Her phone rang just as she reached the elevator, and Golda debated whether she should answer — in her annoyance at Mirel, she’d forgotten to silence it when she entered the home. She glanced at the screen: Bracha, her oldest.

“Hi, Ma, so glad I caught you.” Golda said nothing. “I need Esti to come over tomorrow straight from school. Ephraim has a dentist appointment, and I cannot take five kids with me. I tried it last time, and it was a nightmare.”

“She should be home today by three. Why don’t you call and ask her?”

“Because, Ma, I don’t want to ask her. I want you to tell her that’s what she has to do,”Bracha said in what Golda recognized as her patient voice.

“Bracha, I realize it’s difficult to take all the kids, but I’m not sure what Esti’s plans are. Why don’t you call her when she gets home.”

“Mommy, she’s twelve. There is nothing important she needs to do. Just because she’s the youngest doesn’t mean she has to be so spoiled.”

If it hadn’t been Tuesday and her ladies weren’t waiting for her to come and read to them, Golda might have considered explaining that Esti wasn’t spoiled, but that having three sisters and two sisters-in-law who expected you to be at their beck and call was far from easy. Not that she hadn’t tried to explain this before. Ariella actually had a lighter schedule than Esti, but there was some unwritten rule among her children that once a sibling had started shidduchim, they were no longer expected to babysit.

“Bracha, I’m at the home, my ladies are waiting. Call Esti.”

Golda silenced her phone and dropped it into her bag.

She rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, anticipating the warmth radiating from Mimi Steinhaus.

Mimi opened the door before she had a chance to knock.

“Mamaleh, come on in! I heard you coming!”

“How could you have heard me coming? The hallway is carpeted,” Golda asked with a laugh.

“My heart heard you,” Mrs. Steinhaus said, grasping Golda’s hands and pulling her inside.

Golda dropped onto the plush couch.

“Here, Goldie. Have some cookies.” Mrs. Steinhaus set a plate on the coffee table in front of her.

“If my mouth is full of cookie, I won’t be able to read.” Golda smiled as she flipped to the bookmarked page in the worn copy of Gone with the Wind.

“Nu, take a cookie, and you’ll read after. You need to make a brachah to make the book kosher, Mamaleh.”

After finishing the chapter, Golda pulled herself off the couch, reluctant to leave. Where else could she go to be called Mamaleh and feel like a good little girl again?

Golda took the stairs down to room 357, where she read parshah stories to Sarah Rosen. (“Don’t worry, I have Torah downstairs,” she’d assured Mimi Steinhaus, who apologized for requesting secular novels.)

After finishing on the third floor, Golda knocked at apartment 243.

“Come in,” called Bella Benami. “How have you been, dear? How are the children?”

Fifteen minutes later, Golda bit her lip. She always promised herself she would just read to Bella. But Bella was so easy to talk to, and it all — the marrieds wanting Esti as their full-time babysitter, Ariella not finding a dress for her cousin’s wedding, Mirel’s very helpful advice to dress her in garbage bags — came pouring out.

“I’m sorry, Bella. I’ve done it again. I wanted to make your day better, not unload my problems on you.”

“Feh.” Bella waved her hand. “Treating me like an intelligent person is making my day better. Finally, someone who acts like I’m more than just a bag of bones.”

Golda was about to head to the stairs when she remembered she had a new name on the second floor. Naomi Baum. She hesitated for just a second before knocking, but surely this was not the same Naomi Baum she’d once known. Even if it was — 30 years had certainly softened the woman.

Oh, but it was the same Naomi Baum who greeted her at the door. Significantly older, but no doubt the same woman — narrow lips, eyes too light to be called brown but too dark to be hazel, and a nose that twitched ever so slightly when she spoke.

Mrs. Baum showed no sign of recognizing her.

“Come in,” she said pleasantly, stepping aside to let Golda in. “You’re the lovely woman who offered to read? What’s your name?”

The thought entered her mind to give a false name, but that would be childish. Besides — everything that happened took place 30 years ago.

“Golda Neuman.”

Mrs. Baum’s eyes narrowed. “Oh my — you’ve put on a lot of weight, and you can’t possibly be as old as you appear to be, but still, I should’ve recognized it was the same face under the wrinkles. Maybe I’m getting old. You’re the reader?”

Golda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That woman clearly has issues she’s never worked through, she thought.

“I don’t have to be. I can leave if you’d rather.”

“You’re here already, you may as well get on with it,” Mrs. Baum said, settling into a dusty-blue recliner.

As if she’s acquiescing to a colonoscopy. Or doing me the favor!

“What would you like me to read?”

“You come to read, but you don’t bring any books?” Mrs. Baum shook her head and flicked something off the arm of her recliner.

“I usually keep books with each of my ladies, in their rooms.”

“And if someone new signs up — you have nothing to offer them,” Mrs. Baum said, her narrow lips disappearing as she pursed them in disapproval. It was her signature expression; Golda remembered it from her days as her tenant.

Let her be as critical as she pleases, she told herself now. I’m not going to take the bait.

“Maybe we should discuss what you like to read, and I can bring it next week,” Golda said, though obviously Mrs. Baum wouldn’t be signing up again.

“Why don’t you just choose something off my shelf,” Mrs. Baum said, waving her hands in the direction of the bookcase. “They’re all worth rereading, or I wouldn’t have kept them, would I?”

I suppose that gives me immunity from choosing the wrong book, doesn’t it? Golda laughed to herself as she walked over to the bookcase, scanned the titles, and plucked an old favorite off the shelf. Without waiting for approval or leaving time for any additional commentary from Mrs. Baum, Golda did what she knew she did well: read in a way that allowed her listeners to fall into the story.

The chapters were short, so she read two, glancing up from the book to notice Mrs. Baum clearly captivated. As she closed the book, she wondered if Mrs. Baum would complain that she hadn’t read enough, but she stayed as long as she did with any of the other women. Golda stood up and placed the book back on the bookcase and headed to the door without waiting for the thank-you that would not come.

“If you’d like me to continue next week, let Yonit know. She’ll put your name on my list.”

Where would I be now if I’d taken those finals? With my own practice? Setting my own hours, making enough money to actually make it worth working, rather than running Rabbi Wexler’s office?

Golda, she’s a harmless old woman in an old-age home. Let the past go. For all you know she’s here because she has no family to take care of her.

Harmless? She forced you to move out for no reason. There’s no such thing as emergency renovations.

Look at you, getting all rattled over what must be an octogenarian! Ignore her! She won’t sign up again, and you can forget all about her.

Golda was at the first of the double doors when she realized that she’d completely skipped the first floor. Miriam Hurst and Hindy Friedman were still waiting for her! She wondered if anyone noticed her bizarre choreography as she turned around and headed back to the stairs.

To say Golda was surprised to find Naomi Baum’s name on her list the next week would be an understatement.

She tapped on the door to room 237.

“You may as well come in.”

She found Mrs. Baum in the same dusty-blue recliner looking for all the world like she was there for a root canal.

“The book should be just where you left it last time — assuming you know where you left it.”

Now, now, Golda, it wouldn’t be nice to snort at an old woman. Just start reading.

Golda glanced up several times, to see Mrs. Baum lost in the story, but the moment she noticed Golda looking at her, Mrs. Baum made it a point to yawn or study her nails.

Golda finished reading and placed the book gingerly on the shelf, careful not to crease the cover and give Mrs. Baum something to complain about.

“It isn’t made out of crystal, putting it on the shelf needn’t be such a production.”

What do I even say to her when I leave? I always tell the other women what a pleasure it’s been, or how I’m already looking forward to seeing them again next week, or both. It certainly would sound sarcastic if I said those words now.

“Have a lovely day, Mrs. Baum.”

If Golda hadn’t bumped into Bella on her way out, she might have embarrassed herself again by skipping the first floor.

“Golda, so nice to bump into you.” Bella took her hands and looked into her eyes. “How are you, dear?”

I saw Bella less than half an hour ago. This is… strange.

“I bumped into Naomi Baum earlier today. Did you know we grew up together? She mentioned that you were her tenant when you were a young newlywed.”

Understanding dawned. Golda had once told Bella about her terrible experience with Mrs. Baum all those years ago. She’d never dreamed Mrs. Baum would end up in a room just down the hall from Bella. Wonderful Bella must have put two and two together.

What would I do without Bella! She’s made sure to catch me on the way out of Naomi’s room just to give me an extra dose of love.

ÒYou donÕt look like it’s Tuesday,” Zalmy said.

Golda looked up from her cutting board. Tuesday was a favorite day in the Neuman house. The office was closed, Golda read to the women at Beaumont, and, home at 2:00 p.m., she spent the afternoons preparing her best suppers. Soup and salad and something she’d patchkeh with while the music played. Tonight’s sesame chicken was being kept warm in the oven, there was soup bubbling on the stove, and music was playing in the background, but the hack, hack, hack of her salad slicing was all sharp, angry moves instead of the usual harmony flowing straight out of her into her food.

“You will never guess who I saw at Beaumont today,” Golda said as her angry knife hacked the ends off a cucumber. Zalmy jumped back.

“If it’s enough to ruin a Tuesday, maybe don’t tell me.”

“Naomi Baum,” said Golda, beheading another cucumber. “I actually saw her last week, but I was positive she wouldn’t sign up again, so I didn’t bother telling you.”

Zalmy cocked his head. “Name rings a bell. Refresh my memory.”

Golda threw the knife on the table and stared at Zalmy, openmouthed.

“Rings a bell? Zalmy, are you okay? Naomi Baum, the landlord?”

“Right, right, right. Of course.” Zalmy looked at Golda expectantly.

When Golda kept silent even as grated carrot overshot the salad bowl — and Golda never grated anything out of the salad bowl — Zalmy dared open his mouth.

“Golda, please, I don’t get it. Yes, Naomi Baum was quite a nuisance when we were young. But now she’s an old lady in a nursing home.”

Golda pushed her tongue against the inside of her bottom-right jaw, but she didn’t say a word. It’s not his fault he’s a man. It’s not his fault he doesn’t get it. Explain yourself and stop attacking the salad like a madwoman.

Golda wiped her hands on a towel, made a brachah, and popped the carrot stub into her mouth. Then she got herself a cup of water and sat down across from her poor, confused, clueless husband.

Golda took a deep breath. “Yes, it was thirty years ago. But we are still suffering the consequences. Have you forgotten that if not for Naomi Baum, I would probably have a very nice degree now and would be making a lot more money in a lot less time. And I would have been doing that for decades.”

Zalmy started to open his mouth, but Golda waved a finger at him. “And don’t start Hashem-ing me here. Of course, it was what Hashem wanted, but megalg’lim chov al y’dei chayav, and all that.

“I could be home early every day, have time to fuss over the kids, over supper, babysit the grandkids so everyone wasn’t always expecting Esti to drop her life for them. Imagine if every day were Tuesday!” Golda’s face turned dark. “And now that nasty woman is ruining my Tuesdays as well.”

“There’s nothing wrong with these, why do you always cut them off?” Zalmy asked as he picked up a cucumber end. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Golda. You never told me what happened with Mrs. Baum at Beaumont. But how could it ruin your Tuesdays?”

“Naomi Baum added herself to my reading list. And she hasn’t changed a bit. She goes out of her way to be nasty, like she wants to hurt me. Maybe I was hurt when I was twenty, but now I’m just angry. She doesn’t deserve to have someone read to her.”

“So don’t read to her,” Zalmy said as he chewed the cucumber ends.

Golda looked at her watch. The kids would start wandering in soon to see what supper this Tuesday brought, but she really wanted Zalmy to understand.

“But don’t you get it? Don’t you see how small and petty it would make me if I didn’t read to her?”

“So read to her,” Zalmy said, half statement, half question as he turned his right palm upward.

Golda took a deep breath and clenched her fist. “No! It’s a chutzpah that she even puts her name on the list after what she did to us back then — and she’s behaving the same way now! Reading to her is irritating. She’s playing a game with me, using me for some ulterior motive I can’t figure out.”

She saw Zalmy was dying to suggest again that she not read to Mrs. Baum, but thankfully, he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

She closed the kitchen door. And spoke very, very quietly.

“Last week Bracha wanted Esti to babysit. Today Malky called wanting Esti to come help her with the kids. I told Malky that every single day a different sister or sister-in-law calls for Esti’s help. I said Esti is only twelve, and she has a right to friends and fun even on days when she doesn’t have to study for a test.

“So Malky starts explaining how she tried every other babysitter and she’s desperate and every person she called wanted to know why her sister isn’t babysitting. But Esti’s not their maid!

“I’ve been shopping with Ariella for weeks. We’ve gone to every store in the city,” Golda lowered her voice further, “and I’m not exaggerating that not one single thing has looked nice on her.”

“What about your sister Mirel? Did you ask her for a recommendation? She always seems so eager to help,” Zalmy suggested.

Golda ignored the interruption. There was no way to explain that Queen of Unsolicited Advice is not the same as “eager to help.”

“Mrs. Glattstein needs to retire. The last thing she knew how to use in the office was the mimeograph machine. But either she doesn’t realize that I’m doing both of our jobs now or she doesn’t care. So what am I supposed to say when Rabbi Wexler wants to know why I haven’t gotten my work finished? Tell him he’s paying Mrs.  Glattstein to keep her chair warm?”

“Rabbi Wexler can’t be that oblivious, can he? Surely, he sees that Mrs. Glattstein’s never busy when he walks in?” Zalmy interjected.

“And if he doesn’t? I should be the one to tell him?” Golda asked.

“You should ask a sh’eilah,” Zalmy said, nodding.

“And maybe I will — but that’s the point, Zalmy. Maybe I have to ask a sh’eilah about work. The marrieds could use help, and Esti needs a childhood. All day long, everyone wants something from me, and I never know if I’m doing the right thing — who I’m helping, or if I’m helping. But then there’s Tuesday.

“And it just feels good. I know I’m doing something nice. It’s easy for me, and I don’t have to think about it. One day a week, I can just do a feel-good chesed. But now, no matter what I do—”

“Now, no matter what you do about Mrs. Baum — whether you read to her or not — it doesn’t feel good. If you read to her, you feel like she’s taking advantage of you. And if you don’t read to her — you feel petty,” Zalmy finished for her.

“Right,” Golda said as she shut off the soup.

“But does that really ruin your whole morning there? Don’t you still enjoy your other ladies?”

“I do, but… it’s not the same anymore.”

Golda wanted Zalmy to understand, and she could have explained in a way that he would, had Esti and Ariella not walked in just then.

“Yes! I love Tuesday suppers,” said Esti sliding into her seat. But she looked up after three bites. ”Mommy, why aren’t you acting like it’s Tuesday?”

“Have I ever told you you are the most clueless kid I’ve ever met?” Ariella said.

“If I were clueless, then I wouldn’t notice that Mommy was acting funny,” Esti answered back.

Naomi Baum isn’t even here to enjoy ruining your supper, so can you please cool your anger and enjoy your family?

Golda bopped Esti on the head with the end of the empty seltzer bottle. “You, young lady, spend too much time with adults. And yum, these are delicious, if I do say so myself.” She popped a piece of chicken into her mouth.

Later that night, Zalmy looked at Golda. “I had an idea. Maybe visit Beaumont on Shabbos? It won’t change Tuesdays, but it will give you an opportunity to see whoever you like when you’re not obligated to some list.”

Golda imagined spending Shabbos afternoon schmoozing with Bella and smiled.

Shabbos afternoon was warm and breezy. Zalmy wasn’t the only one who thought Shabbos was a good time to visit Beaumont. There was a low rumble across the normally quiet lobby — groups of women chatting, visiting high school girls, and families sat in clusters of floral upholstered chairs.

Golda spotted Bella in a lively group in the corner, and she headed over. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed who was holding court.

“Bella — what would I do without you? Rachel, you look great in that hat — blue really complements your coloring.”

The woman throwing out compliments and making everyone smile was a Naomi Baum that Golda had never seen.

Mrs. Baum was a good deal older than Golda — her children were married by the time Golda moved in. So it’s not like she’d have seen Mrs. Baum at the babysitter or in the park. Had she been oblivious to this bubbly personality living above her all those years ago? She stared, fascinated, at the circle of women gathered around Mrs. Baum.

Before she could decide whether this whole Shabbos idea was a good one or if she should make a hasty retreat, Bella noticed her.

“Golda! What a pleasant surprise!” Bella beamed. Golda walked over to the group.

“Mamaleh! Come sit down.” Mimi Steinhaus patted the chair next to her.

I guess I’ll never be an adult to her. Golda smiled to herself — but her smile froze when she caught sight of Mrs. Baum’s face.

As her eyes landed on Golda, disdain replaced the megawatt smile. Mrs. Baum quickly looked away and launched into a story of how Miriam Hurst’s voice reminded her of the famous singer she’d once met. No one seemed to notice how her smile disappeared whenever she laid eyes on Golda.

Finally, after sitting long enough to be polite, Golda waved at Mimi and Bella and walked quietly out the double doors.

Who is Naomi Baum? she thought to herself as she walked home. Come to think of it, she’d always been nice to Zalmy. Golda recalled asking Zalmy to try again after she’d been informed they couldn’t extend their lease. She’d been sure Mrs. Baum would acquiesce to Zalmy. It was like that; Mrs. Baum would say no to anything Golda asked and yes to Zalmy’s requests.

What about her was so detestable to Naomi Baum? What had Golda ever done to her? From their first encounter, Mrs. Baum had been out to get her.

“Mommy, should I set the table for Shalosh Seudos? Binyomin came with his family.”

Golda looked at Esti. She’d been so lost in thought she’d barely noticed she’d arrived home. Binyomin hadn’t mentioned he was coming — at least figuring out what to serve would distract her from Mrs. Baum.

“Thanks, Esti, that would be great.”

Why in all these weeks has it never occurred to me to go to Naomi Baum first? Golda thought. Ever since that eye-opening Shabbos a few weeks ago, Golda had watched the same scenario on repeat. Every nurse or repairman who interrupted their reading sessions was treated to accolades and compliments by Mrs. Baum. But to Golda, Mrs. Baum showed no warmth at all.

Today, instead of starting at the highest floor and working her way down, Golda went straight to Naomi Baum. She was just as critical and biting as usual, complimenting the dietitian’s colorful sweater while glancing sideways at Golda’s black one. And then, on the way out, she thanked Golda for getting her ready for a nap. But there were her other ladies to look forward to; Golda would go to Bella last so the older woman could soothe any lingering bitterness.

Golda knocked as she stepped into Bella’s suite. She picked up the book that sat waiting on the end table, settled herself on the couch, and started to read.

“Golda, dear, what’s wrong? You’re not yourself.”

The other women had also noticed a difference, and Golda had brushed them off. She contemplated denial here, too, but this was Bella. Maybe it wasn’t fair to read to Mrs. Baum before the others.

Golda lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I feel so childish, Bella. There’s someone who isn’t very nice to me. I should ignore it, but it makes me angry.”

“Naomi?” Bella asked gently.

Golda hesitated.

“I’m asking for a reason. I told you I’ve known Naomi for many years.”

That was all the invitation Golda needed. “Bella! It’s the strangest thing. She’s so nice to everyone but me. I’ve never done a thing to hurt her as far as I know. No matter how she treats me, I try to be nice. It’s almost like… as if…” Golda shrugged. “As if she’s trying to get me to do something nasty in return!”

“Don’t you think it’s strange, Golda, if she really finds you so distasteful, that she continues to sign up week after week for you to read to her?”

Golda looked at Bella sharply. She’d thought it was Naomi’s way of torturing her.

“Golda, you have no idea how unconditionally loving you are. You give and give to everyone, no strings attached. That’s not how my generation grew up. We had to earn it. And I remember Naomi as a child. If she didn’t do her chores or eat all the food on her plate, or if she did something she shouldn’t have… her parents were a lot colder to her. When she got married, her husband was the same. If he was happy with the dinner she made, the way she kept the house, dealt with the children, then he was nice enough. But if not — he made his displeasure known.”

Golda thought of all the times she caught Naomi childishly changing her expression the moment Golda noticed her enjoying her reading.

“Now, put that silly book down,” Bella instructed, “and tell me if you’ve managed to find a dress for Ariella.”

The time passed quickly after that, and soon enough Golda was in her kitchen slicing vegetables into matchsticks. This Tuesday’s supper would be a family favorite — stir-fry and egg rolls.

She wasn’t her old Tuesday self, but she wasn’t full of the anger and resentment of the last few weeks.

The next week, Golda stopped for a moment to admire the fish. Were they always this beautiful? she thought.

As she glanced at the list from Yonit, she recalled last week’s conversation with Bella. How did I miss it? Naomi Baum signs up every single week, of course she’s enjoying me.

Golda knocked on the door to suite 237.

“Come in,” Mrs. Baum called from her recliner, the same bland expression on her face. For some reason Golda couldn’t dredge up the resentment she’d felt in the past.

Unconditional love. That’s what Naomi Baum wants from me. She goes about it the wrong way, that’s for sure, but it makes it more understandable. Everyone needs unconditional love. She must’ve seen from right when I was a young kallah that I wouldn’t react to her pettiness. And maybe in her thinking, had she treated me well, my friendliness would’ve lost the unconditional element.

“What’s taking so long?” Mrs. Baum yawned.

Lousy actress. Golda allowed herself a little smirk as she took the book off the shelf and began to read.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 884)