Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 72 of a new online serial novel, Outside the Bubble, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
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“So,” Mali said, “until when can I let you know if I’m coming, Ima?”
“I think we’d like to know by Thursday, so we can get organized early enough on Friday to come and get you from Tzefas.”
“Fine,” her daughter said. “I’ll try to let you know as soon as I can.”
“Great, sweetie,” Hinda said, and when the conversation ended, she tried to remember when the two of them had last ended a conversation on such a positive note. And when their last phone conversation had been, in the first place. They had certainly spoken to each other around Yom Tov time, but what about since then?
She hadn’t spoken to Mali for a long time.
And when had she last spoken to Baruch?
And Avigdor?
It wasn’t nice to admit it, but she seemed to call Avigdor only when she needed his help with Yosef, though of course they also spoke weekly when he called her. But why was it only once a week? He was probably taking pains not to disturb the new couple. And Baruch…she spoke to Baruch only when he called from a public phone, because trying to reach him in yeshivah was always complicated. Their conversations were usually fine, just few and far in between. She spoke to Chani more often, but with Avigdor’s wife Esty, for example… True, last week she’d asked to speak to Esty, to see how she was doing, but Avigdor’s wife was always a bit quiet, distant and always very busy. And she, Hinda, was also busy, and also didn’t have time—and the children had long known that.
Hinda kicked at the little mound of earth on the ground. The swing moved gently forward and backward, and she leaned against the back of it and closed her eyes. There was quiet in and around the bungalow, as Dov and Yosef slept deeply, and the night air was still and silent.
Her children were also busy with themselves and their lives, and it was all fine. But she was the mother.
Had she neglected them in an attempt to keep up with the pace of her new life?
Not that she was blaming herself; she didn’t have any spare energy for that now, and that was even before the fact that a court martial for mothers’ guilt was usually not a fair trial. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t rethink things a bit.
She had been rather self-absorbed lately, and that was only natural. Just like it was natural for her to have withdrawn into herself after Shmuel’s passing. But then, she’d been young and really selfish, and with all of the hurt and petty anger she’d built up against Michoel for speaking to her as he did—he was the one who had pulled her out of that place.
Now it was happening again, when she was older and more mature, when she already knew how to give of herself to others. True, Dov was now in first place, and his children also took up a significant part of her, not to mention Yosef, who also knew how to take up a large share of his mother. But to be honest, there was enough of her left to give to her other children.
Hinda didn’t suddenly call Esty and Avigdor, Baruch, or Chani. No, she wasn’t impulsive. She also wouldn’t hurry to organize a big family Shabbos this week, and not only due to the fact that this bungalow didn’t have enough room for them all. Perhaps she wouldn’t even organize such a Shabbos next week in her own house, in Haifa. After all, her children were adults, and they were settled and managing beautifully, baruch Hashem. They knew they had a loving mother even when she was busy, and it wasn’t like she’d thrown them into the desert, hungry and in rags, just okay enough to survive.
Her swinging became a bit more vigorous, and her feet lifted from the floor as she gazed at the small patches of grass around her. She’d always been that type of mother—she didn’t hover around her children or chase after them—but she was a very good mother. She listened, empathized, and did all the things she was supposed to, and she thought her children always felt loved and safe in her company. They knew she had their backs, and that if they ever wanted her advice, she was more than happy to give it to them. Mali had never wanted her advice, even when she was little. Mali had always been a little different than the others; perhaps she was the first one who looked for something different, or who wanted her mother to look for something different for her.
Hinda closed her eyes. It was good, to come to a point in life where you can look into yourself and find your weak points. The question was what to do with the weakness she had found. She couldn’t change her personality, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to, but she could always improve.
One of the sprinklers in the small garden suddenly switched on, and cold drops of water spattered onto Hinda’s forehead. She didn’t bother to wipe them away; the cool wetness was pleasant. So, she wasn’t supposed to start chasing after her daughter-in-law, but a phone call to her once a week, to compliment Esty on some of the grandchildren’s cute remarks that Avigdor had shared with her, could be a great thing. She had to ask Baruch to call more often, and Avigdor also had to realize that he interested his mother, not only when she needed his help with Yosef. It made no difference that she was busy and preoccupied and didn’t always have the headspace to deal with regular, mundane matters.
Hinda moved a bit to the right as the spray from the sprinkler grew stronger. Mali… Hinda had stopped calling her when Mali had stopped, almost consistently, picking up the phone. But recently, their relationship was thawing a bit, and she could try again to generate some friendly mother-daughter conversations. She’d been able to break the ice with Dov’s daughter Penina pretty fast, even though the beginning hadn’t been easy. There was no reason why her own daughter should remain so distant.
Hinda stopped the swing and stood up. The sprinkler stopped together with the swing, as if they were synchronized. It was time to go to sleep, especially since the thoughts about change were beginning to slowly take on the voice of her conscience. It was good, that thing called conscience, but caring people needed to remember to limit it sometimes.
***
Dr. Jerry Skulholt had soft green eyes and pronounced cheekbones. The contrast was interesting, and Martin spent a long moment studying him before returning a limp handshake.
“Pleasure to meet you…” he murmured, as his eyes darted every which way.
“You’re probably tired from all that traveling,” the psychiatrist said, smiling amiably. “And I imagine that you would also like to see your uncle, Mr. Perl, already. So we won’t let this introductory meeting last too long, alright?” He asked for Yosef’s passport and the translated documents, and studied them in silence for a few moments before setting the whole batch down on the table.
“Can I see your pills, Josef?”
Martin opened his suitcase slowly and took out three different pill bottles. Hinda and Dov had promised that they would get Yosef other pills, because he, Martin, needed to take these with him; otherwise, his whole show would have too many holes. The psychiatrist took the containers, turned them from side to side, peeked inside, and counted how many pills there were of each type.
“Okay, so for the first two days, you’ll continue taking everything as usual,” he said, pushing the bottles back to the youth. “Then we’ll talk. Are you happy to have come here, Josef?”
Martin-Josef nodded vigorously.
“Why?”
“Because I want to be well.”
“Who told you about this place?”
“My mother. Michoel told her.”
“And what did he say? That he is healthy?”
“Not completely, but mostly.” Martin looked only at the table and not at the face of the doctor.
“You need to cooperate with us in order to get well.” The psychiatrist’s eyes lost some of their softness for a moment. “You need to trust us, Josef, and to obey our instructions, in order to be well. Okay?”
“Okay. Sure. Which instructions?”
“Slowly you’ll learn everything. But let’s start with the basics. You came with a phone, right?”
“Yes.” Martin took the device out of his pocket.
“Excellent. Call your mother and tell her you arrived safely, and that next time, you’re going to call from the office, because we don’t use personal phones here.”
“Oh.” He nodded.
“Aside for that, do you have a mirror among your belongings?”
“No.”
“Not even something small, in a toiletries bag or something? Behind a hairbrush? Next to the toothpaste?”
“No.”
“Photo albums of any kind?”
“No.”
“Good. We don’t allow those things here. Those are the basic instructions. Tomorrow at ten, you’ll come here again, for your first private session. Then we’ll have a two-hour group session.”
“What do you do there?” The man smiled, making his cheekbones stand out even more. “Interesting things. For now, though, call home, to your mother. Then give me your phone for safekeeping, and you can finally go visit your uncle.”
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