Why was my sister shutting me out of her life?

Esther: My personal life is private, and I didn’t want you sharing it with your social circle.

Tzivi: I just wanted to help you and be there for you. How could you leave me out of it all?

Tzivi

My sister Esther was born two days after I turned one. Which means I can never forget her birthday. I dialed Suri while whipping up brownies for Shabbos.

“It’s Esther’s birthday tonight.”

Suri mm-hmmed down the phone. “I know. Texted her happy birthday earlier. Don’t tell me you want to make a surprise party or something? I think 21 is a bit old for that.”

“Nope.” Oil, sugar, flour. A white cloud rose out of the bowl. “But you were married by 21, I was engaged, and Esther needs a shidduch. Miri’s going to be coming home from seminary in June and she’ll be waiting too. C’mon, doesn’t Yaakov know anyone?”

“How about Eli?” My older sister countered. I could hear noise in the background, it sounded like she was baking, too.

“Eli’s chevreh isn’t Esther’s type. That boy she went out with... Moshe what’s-his-name, didn’t he learn in the same yeshivah that Yaakov went to?”

“Yeah. Six years ago. Yaakov doesn’t know the bochurim there now.”

I sighed. “Okay, okay, forget Yaakov. Maybe we can think of someone. I mean, what about Mrs. Goldberg’s son, the one who went to Israel really young? Isn’t he a real masmid or something?”

“I think he’s married already.”

I aimed my oil spray at a 9x13, squeezed the nozzle. “Okay... so who else do we know? I mean, my friend Laykie just went out with someone. He was a little older, maybe 26, 27, would Esther mind that? She said no in the end, I think she wanted someone a little more with-it, but it could work. Should I get his résumé?”

“Maybe,” Suri said vaguely. “Listen, Tzivi, you know how it is with these ideas, we talk and talk and then forget half of them. If you think this guy is a good idea, then speak to a shadchan, get a yes from the boy’s side... let’s not get all carried away before it’s even relevant.”

“Carried away?” I was hurt. “Don’t you care about Esther? If we can help out by brainstorming, I think it’s only right that we should.”

“Brainstorming only goes so far,” Suri said. “Let’s not argue. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying, if you think it’s a good idea, follow up, okay?”

“Of course,” I said stiffly, closing the oven door. “Oops, need to run. Good to talk.”

“Brownies... nice.” Eli walked in, washed his hands, and headed for the cooling rack. Halfway there, he stopped. “Wait, special occasion or something?”

“No, they’re for Shabbos. Mostly. Go ahead,” I said, tossing him two plastic plates. “I’ll have, too. Um, in honor of Esther’s birthday.”

“Mazel tov.”

I switched on the kettle. Eating brownies without a cup of coffee is missing out on half the experience. “We need to find her a shidduch already,” I said.

We had this conversation around once a week. Eli tried not to roll his eyes. “I’m thinking... Hey, how about that guy, Horowitz... Avi, Ari — yeah, Aryeh, that was it. He was in the dorm with me, we were chavrusas at some point...”

“Horowitz from 38th Street?” I couldn’t help giggling. “Omigosh, you have no idea how many times his name came up for me. I think maybe seven people suggested it. But they said no. I wonder if they’d say yes to Esther...”

“What, they turned you down?” Eli raised his eyebrows and mock-glared. “How could they?”

“They knew I could do better,” I kidded. He laughed.

“Seriously, though, maybe it’s worth a try for Esther?” I persisted. She was such a great girl, we really needed to do something.

“Maybe I’ll give him a call,” Eli said. “Or better, I’ll ask Motty Reich... they were good friends.”

He made good on his promise, Eli, but Horowitz said no to Esther too, and the boy Laykie had dated was busy, and his mother said something vague about putting Esther’s name on her list, which meant nothing.

A couple of weeks went by, life was busy, and the next time I remembered Esther’s shidduchim was when my friend Avigail texted me. Hey, want to join shidduch meeting in my house next Wed evening? Bring names and we’ll brainstorm.

I didn’t even stop to think. I’m in.

“This meeting,” Michal said, “is just an excuse to get together with each other and sample goodies. Yum.” She motioned at the laden table, and we laughed.

“Pecan chocolate chip bars? Almond biscotti?” Chaya Pessy asked. “Even popping the popcorn was enough for me.”

“Aww, you have a tiny baby and you’re probably already back at work, right?” Shiffy countered. Chaya Pessy, our chevreh’s resident superwoman, shrugged and tried to look modest.

“Tachlis, shidduchim,” Avigail said. “Tzivi, you want to start?”

“Sure,” I said. My friends all knew Esther, at least a little, but I launched into a detailed description anyway.

“She’s looking for a long-term learner, right?” Shiffy asked.

“Totally, for sure. She’s the type to go live in Eretz Yisrael forever. Or not. You know, whatever her husband wants. She’s not, like, set on any particular location. Lakewood, Israel, wherever he wants to learn.” I laugh a little self-consciously. “We’re pretty different. You know, she’s not the one who’s all into designer brands and the latest fashion — not that she doesn’t dress well, I just mean—”

“We get it,” Michal said drily.

“You’re a good sister,” Avigail smiled.