As if Elisheva knows. She doesn’t even know that Dovi exists, that I had another baby after… after

The fabric store is stifling. Mimi walks among the bolts of material and it’s like everything, the heat, the dust, is caught and trapped within them. Windows would be nice. But no, these stores are like caves, so here she is holding a small blue swatch against the large rolls under the unforgiving fluorescents.

She’s going to match Malka and Debbie, her two girlies. How cute. The three of them in soft blue dresses, an adorable light blue outfit for Dovi, and matching ties for Aryeh and Mordy.

How is it Mordy’s bar mitzvah already? How is she up to this stage already?

Mordy, of course, already has his leining down pat, and he’s running full steam ahead, already set on which yeshivah he wants to go to next year. She sighs, trying to push that mess out of her mind and just focus on the fabric hunt.

She squints at something that looks about right, a little darker than the powder-blue of the girls’ gown swatch. It’s duskier, the color of the sky sighing for a day that was.

She drags the roll to join the options she’s lined up to show Leah.

Where is Leah? Mimi checks her phone. She’ll give her another two minutes before calling again. She’s not going to make a decision about her dress without her. Leah knows this. She’s the big sister who’s been there before, just a couple of years older than Mimi but miles ahead, all-knowing; this seminary, this yeshivah, absolutely this dress.

Her phone jingles. Leah, finally.

Mimi answers, registering the unfamiliar number at the last second.

“H-ii, is that Mimi?”

“Yeah….”

Who is this? But she knows who it is a millisecond before the caller announces herself. That “hi”! They used to joke that Elisheva’s “hi” was already a “hey, how are ya?”

Her arms prickle. It’s been… how long has it been?

“It’s, uh, El—”

“Elisheva!” Mimi cries.

She catches a peeved look from an older woman, and ducks into an aisle of tall fabric rolls where her voice should be good and muffled.

“You recognized my voice. Oh, Mimi….”

She hears longing, warmth, and a certain guardedness. Then: “I know it’s been a while, and I’ve kinda disappeared on you, but, but something came up. I feel so bad to do this, but I really need to ask you if you could… Mimi, I can’t do this over the phone, can you possibly meet me?”

There are so many questions. She blurts one: “Where do you even live?”

“Manhattan.”

Why had she thought Elisheva had left New York? Despite herself and everything, Mimi says, “Ooh, nice, you always did love the city.”

For a second, the ice is broken, and as Elisheva half-laughs in response, it is time that freezes.

Mimi grips the phone, absently notes the clamminess of the hand on it.

“I’m in trouble,” she hears Elisheva say. “I know it’s a big ask, but is there a chance you could come here?”

“Uh, maybe we can arrange some time next week,” Mimi says.

“It’s kinda urgent,” Elisheva chokes out.

Years and years, nothing, and now she needs me urgently?

“Maybe tomorrow?”

“It’s, it’s… could you possible do today, please?” Elisheva’s voice is tiny, lost.

“Are you okay? I mean, obviously not….”

“No,” Elisheva says, “no.”

Mimi takes a gulp of stale air. “I could possibly make it this evening.” Why am I doing this? But I have to. “I need to figure things out, the kids and stuff, you know.”

As if Elisheva knows. She doesn’t even know that Dovi exists, that I had another baby after… after.

“Put the babysitting on me, please. And thank you, thank you Mimi. I’ll text you the address. Bye.”

Mimi finds herself at the end of the aisle, still clutching the blue swatch, hemmed in on three sides by towering rolls of blacks and browns.

The past is coming for you.

She rushes back down toward the fluorescents, toward the light of the door.

“Nothing for you, ma’am?” says the proprietor.

“Not now, thanks,” she murmurs.

Outside, she shivers in the abrupt temperature change. Her phone vibrates and she startles. It’s Leah.

“Sorry Mimi, I was running late. I can be there in five.”

“Thanks, Lay, but don’t bother. Something came up and I’m leaving. Another day, ’kay?”

“Okay…?”

She’s not telling Leah about the call. Not when she has no earthly idea what this is about.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1081)