She grabbed her pen triumphantly. Green she scrawled on the page. Oh, wait, why green? Hmmm.

She closed her eyes again, mainly because it had worked so well the first time.

Green. Grass sprouts. Little buds bursting off tree branches. Green grass, wet with dew….

New beginnings, she jotted down on the page. My life is green because I’ve embarked on a new beginning. She looked at her paper with satisfaction. There. She’d done it.

And for the next part: What color would she choose for her life?

Green, she wrote, smiling slightly. Just green.

But what color did her life used to be? The instructor hadn’t asked, but why not? Everyone else was still scratching away and she’d barely written a sentence.

My previous life, she penned, was pink. A rosy pink, just a shade brighter than could be described as delicate. It was bright and happy and it made other people happy just to look at it.

And sometimes I wonder if I made a terrible mistake by walking away from something so beautiful just for… greenery. For something fresh and new and budding and oh-so-fragile. A buzzer sounded from very far away.

But I couldn’t do pink any more — it may have made others happy, but it was leaving me feeling gray. Still… is there some color between the two? I wonder.

The tantalizing aroma of grilling steaks made her stomach growl. Estee gazed at her tablescape with satisfaction. She’d pulled out the blue flowered tablecloth, a dupe she’d found on Amazon, used her white china, gold chargers, and gold candlesticks. Blue velvet ribbons were tied on the candlesticks, and in her humble opinion, the table looked like a professional party planner had set it.

The steaks were almost ready, the green beans were crisp and garlicky, and the roast potatoes were just about ready. She had a bottle of sparkling grape juice sweating on the table and lemon wedges in glasses of seltzer.

Yonah was going to love it. After all, it wasn’t every day your husband made a siyum on a masechta. Estee remembered Yonah’s first siyum, back when they were engaged. She’d imagined herself making huge lavish events every time Yonah completed something, but her husband had asked her if they could just do a small thing at home.

Well, she wasn’t sure about small, but she was doing something at home. And she had invited his parents for dessert. They deserved to shep nachas, too.

“Knock, knock!”

She spun around. “Hey, Yons.”

His eyes sparkled as he took it all in. “This is insane. Estee! Thank you so much, I can’t believe you did all this.”

She glowed. She was proud of him. He’d pushed through whatever was going on in his life and worked hard. She felt the fruition of every seminary class and every shanah rishonah shiur, all rolled into this one blissful moment.

“Wash for hamotzi,” she called out. “I bought that sourdough you like.” She hurried to light the candles. There, the table was now perfect.

She glanced around. Where was Yonah?

“Yons? You washing?”

No answer.

“Yons?”

She poked her head into the kitchen. Yonah’s back was to her. What was he reading? She peered over his shoulder. Oh… boy.

The receipt.

He looked up at her, eyes confused. “You spent 600 dollars on food? For a dinner?”

She jutted out her chin. “Not a dinner. A siyum.”

“You paid 200 dollars for steaks?!”

She couldn’t believe this. She’d worked so, so hard, shopping and cooking and setting up and he was harping about the receipt?

“Yes, I did, Yonah. I wanted to make you a nice siyum.”

He snorted quietly.

Now she was mad.

“When I wanted to buy new shoes, I held back. When I decided I hate my everyday sheitel, I did not buy a new one. When I’ve been wearing the same two maternity dresses every single Shabbos, I did not go shopping. Today, I shopped for your siyum and went all out. Why is that so wrong?”

Yonah swallowed. “Estee. It’s not so wrong. It’s just that… we can’t afford it. I wish we could, I wish we could buy all the things you just listed, but we can’t. Like we literally cannot.”

Estee felt her face flush. “Well, that’s hard, Yonah. Really, really hard. Is it so wrong that I want things? That I need to be able to buy something nice now and then?”

He smashed his hand over his eyes. “No. No it’s not. Estee… do you want me to get a part-time job? Go out to work in the afternoons, so you feel more settled, more comfortable?”

Her mouth dropped open.

He had to be joking. He was joking, right?

“I’m not joking,” he said earnestly. “Think about it.”

And so she thought about it. She thought about being able to afford what she wanted, about not needing the weigh every single purchase. She thought about Yonah heading out to work, giving up on this dream after only ten months. She thought about ordering sushi and lattes and buying nice bags and shoes.

She imagined telling her family and friends that Yonah had left kollel so soon because it was too hard. Then she blocked out her family and friends’ imaginary reactions and thought about her own feelings, what she wanted, really, truly.

She was young and so was Yonah. But they weren’t too young to want something deeply. Something real.

She smelled something burning. Was it her dreams of a kollel life?

“The potatoes,” she said dully.

Because honestly, she was too confused to have anything else to say to him just then.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1047)