“What, you’re like dumping me?” Wagner didn’t usually show emotion, so the slight rise in his voice was significant.

“No, of course not, but we’re here to learn, right? This time is important to both of us, we both have the same chiyuv to learn. Just, you know, things are sort of different now that we’re working together.” Kivi felt generous saying “working together” when really, Wagner sat in his office and got people to sign up for credit cards while he, Kivi, was the landlord, the boss, the CEO. It made him think of his father-in-law. Benjy Halb would introduce his employees as “people who worked together with him.”

“Kivi, we’re not immature,” Wagner said. “What shaychus, so we work under one roof and learn together also? Who cares? What am I missing?”

Why, Kivi wondered, did Wagner have to make this harder than it needed to be? Every day, across this very beis medrash and the many batei midrash that surrounded it, chavrusas broke up with each other: graciously, easily, quietly, they parted and found new chavrusas. It wasn’t such a big deal.

“Wags. You’re not missing anything, leave it. Why are you getting all bent out of shape? You’re good in learning, there are lots of guys who work who want a solid chavrusa for a few hours every morning, you’ll have a new chavrusa by tomorrow if you’re interested. It’s just that I see you all day, and I want a chavrusa who’s just about learning, nothing else. Why are you doing this to me?” Kivi was genuinely perplexed.

Wagner closed the Gemara, kissed it, and walked Kivi out the parking lot.

“Because I think you’re making a mistake and it’s bugging me. I don’t think you want to stop learning with me cause it’s too much, as you say, and you feel like we have too many distractions. I think you want to stop because I’m too much from your old life.”

Kivi had seen it coming, and he was ready. He looked up slowly, exactly as Wagner would have done to him.

“Pssshhhh, free therapy in the parking lot outside BMG, nice, should we put up a sign on the bulletin board?” he asked.

Wagner didn’t appreciate it. That was his trick: the relaxed, unflustered reaction to harsh words. Kivi had seen him do it many times over the years.

They walked by the house for sale near yeshivah, where just last week, Wagner had stopped and said, “Kivi, listen to this idea. It’s pure geonus,” and, flushing with pleasure in his own concept, he shared his plan to buy it. “Imagine I knock it down and open a mechanic — oil changes, tire changes, basic body work. Listen, every yungerman in Lakewood will use it because they can drive here, leave the car, go to seder, then come out and drive home, car as good as new. It’s brilliant.”

Kivi had laughed. He didn’t think Wagner had the sort of money to buy the house, let alone knock it down and build a garage, and he has a sense that Wagner was about to cross a line into new territory. He could almost hear the next question, “You think maybe your shver would be interested, it’s a win-win? Can you hook me up?”

He’d stood there, looking more apprehensive than he’d intended to, and Wagner said, “Relax, I’m not going to ask you to hook me up with your shver or anything, don’t look so panicked.

(Excerpted from Mishpacha, Issue 731)