Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 28 of a new online serial novel, Nine A.M., by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
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Dearest Elky!
Embroidered with the loving hand and heart of a shvigger, in honor of your promotion at the office!
Mama (Mottel’s Mother)
Elky rubbed a finger over the small leather bag and the buttons that closed it, and raised shining eyes to Chaya Kush. “Thank you!” she said. “It’s so beautiful!”
“I’m happy you like it,” Mottel’s mother replied with a smile. “I saw a few of the younger women with such handbags in the last two weeks, so I thought it could be a good gift for you.”
“Yes, Katarina has been giving handbags as payment for embroidery and sewing work that she likes. They must have bought stock somewhere, so she can distribute them.”
“Do you like that style better?” her mother-in-law asked, somewhat hesitantly.
“No, this is much more special. It’s wider and more comfortable on the shoulder, and your stitching…” She studied the tiny, perfect, maroon stitching, and the satin flower affixed to the strap. “It’s gorgeous. Thanks so much again! It really makes me happy!”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” her mother-in-law said as she turned toward the door. In the stories that her mother a”h used to tell her about the days before the Reich, a mother-in-law wouldn’t dare pay a visit to her son and daughter-in-law’s home at six in the morning. But for them, this was the ideal time. Elky got the gift just before she was supposed to leave for work, and this way she didn’t have to be pressured to prepare a fancy dinner and scrub the house, like everyone said you had to do before a mother-in-law’s visit. Why prepare a fancy supper only to have to eat it hastily in forty minutes, after work, and then have to disband the party because they weren’t allowed to be outside anymore?
No, Chaya certainly didn’t need a fancy meal or the headaches that would inevitably come along with it. But she definitely was expecting the appropriate gesture that should have followed this morning visit: that her daughter-in-law should walk to work together with her. Two thirds of their route was the same, and also, they would likely meet a number of women on the way, who would see that things were going swimmingly between them.
But Elky did not seem to remember these basic rules of etiquette. She smiled, wished her mother-in-law a “wonderful day,” and closed the door, leaving the other woman outside. Chaya Kush gaped at the door, feeling very foolish.
Since Mottel had told her last week that Elky would be given more responsibilities in the camp office, she had worked diligently. She’d sewn that beautiful little handbag during unconventional hours, and had envisioned the two of them walking together in the morning, with Elky wearing the new purse. Now, not only would that not happen, but all the women she’d meet, who knew very well that her house was not in this area, and that her daughter-in-law’s house was, would surmise that something was amiss between them this morning.
But everything had gone so well! So—why this uncomfortable situation?
Did Elky not like the bag? Would she have preferred to do some side work for the Wangel family and receive a more fashionable piece, like the other young women had gotten?
But Elky had been so warm and sincere just now, and her thanks had seemed genuine and heartfelt. That must not be it.
Chaya stepped behind the only tree that grew in the yard of her son’s little hut. Soon the first women would start passing here on their way to work; she didn’t want to be caught standing here, humiliated.
Suddenly, a new idea popped into her mind, casting Elky in a different light. Maybe Elky had come across a problem of some type that was delaying her at home, and it wasn’t comfortable for her to deal with it next to her mother-in-law? To this day, Chaya remembered her own mother-in-law’s first visit to her home. The official purpose of the visit was to give her a birthday present. Her mother-in-law had brought her three huge, gorgeous apples from Spain, which had cost a fortune, but Chaya had gotten up a bit late that morning, and discovered that one of her coat buttons had fallen off. Her mother-in-law’s visit had caught her before she’d had time to find the button and sew it back on.
She’d been terribly ashamed to tell her shvigger what an inept daughter-in-law she had—a girl who only looked the next morning for a button that had fallen off the night before. But she’d had no choice. And so her shvigger had sat and watched Chaya crawling around the room, searching desperately for that missing button, until it had been found and duly sewn back on. Finally, they’d set out together.
Today’s youngsters were more afraid to admit to their shortcomings, but on the other hand, they also allowed themselves to defy clear and natural rules. The fact that she was able to admit the mishap to her shvigger didn’t mean that Elky was also able to do that.
Okay, so something—whether a missing button or something else—had happened to throw Elky totally off, and it had banished all thoughts of basic respect for her mother-in-law. Chaya decided that she’d wait a few minutes here outside, while trying to make sure that no one saw her from the main path. When Elky would come out, she’d tell her casually that she realized something was delaying her at home, but that she didn’t want to give up the opportunity to walk with her daughter-in-law, so she’d waited for her outside. And then she’d change the subject, and would never again mention Elky’s rather rude behavior.
A minute, two, three… Chaya waited, all the while envisioning a series of possibilities of what Elky was doing now: what she didn’t want to do in her mother-in-law’s presence. Only when the echo of the footsteps on the path had more or less faded did Chaya realize that if she didn’t set out very soon, she’d be late to work at the sewing shop!
But…Elky would also be late!
What was the tardiness about? Was this her way of showing gratitude after the Wangels had added hours and everything else they had given her?
Chaya didn’t want to think badly of her sweet daughter-in-law, and she certainly didn’t want to say anything about it to Mottel, but she really hoped Elky wasn’t becoming negligent as the result of overconfidence. That was not something the Sherers would take kindly to. But there was a limit as to what she could allow herself to say.
This waiting was also above and beyond what was called for.
Chaya took another deep breath and stepped onto the path, throwing one last glance back at the small house, whose single window was tightly shuttered. She had no idea what Elky was doing now, but at least her wait wasn’t totally useless. Now the path was empty, and she wouldn’t meet anyone along the way.
With a scowl on her face, she walked away from her son’s house, alone.
***
What was the role of a woman in her world, on a random, humdrum, winter morning?
Dena had already davened. She’d said the whole “yom” of Tehillim, which her mother had only begun to do when her youngest was eight. She’d even tried to stitch a row and a half on the needlepoint that her mother-in-law had bought her two weeks ago, but then she’d stopped.
Maybe it was Duvi’s recess time now. And maybe he forgot his bag of vegetables at home? Dena felt an urge to go and visit her children in cheder. Just because. For no reason other than the fact that she was sick and tired of being alone with the four walls until five in the afternoon.
Maybe she should go visit her mother-in-law? But the latter might faint if her daughter-in-law just landed in on her one morning, without any advance notice or clear reason for the visit.
She walked through the rooms in the house, checking what was clean and what needed cleaning, so that she could tell Lana, the cleaning lady, when she’d come in the afternoon. Then she stepped out onto the porch with her needlepoint.
It was one thing if she’d be an elderly lady, with a full and busy life behind her. Perhaps then, she’d find satisfaction in having such a peaceful day. But under these circumstances, the emptiness in her day really wasn’t something Dena could enjoy or appreciate.
How much longer was Bentzy planning to help out his father? He’d never spoken about a clear return date; the only thing that was clear to her was that their return to Eretz Yisrael in itself was a very murky goal. They had spoken in general about the lifestyle that awaited them here, the boys’ schedule, the things Bentzy would be busy with, and the fact that it would be much easier for her to run a home in Vienna than in Israel.
But she hadn’t thought they were talking about years there.
Now she was afraid that she would have to start imagining herself celebrating Duvi’s bar mitzvah here.
Would she sit until then on this porch, doing one stitch in her needlepoint, sighing, looking out, and then repeating it all?
If she’d tell this to any of her sisters, even those who had thought her trip was something to be excited about, they would start to have pity on her—that much was sure. But how could she tell them? Her letters were too short. Expressing herself in writing had never been her thing, and international calls were prohibitively expensive.
She needed friends who lived here.
During the time they’d stayed at her in-laws, Bentzy’s mother had invited some young women over on Shabbos afternoon so she could get to meet people. But she had felt so different from them, as if she’d never get used to the non-Israeli mentality. Her quiet nature probably also contributed to the fact that no relationship had developed beyond those short encounters.
For a while already, her mother-in-law had been trying to persuade her to go to a parshah shiur for young women, given by Rebbetzin Weg. She claimed there were lots of nice young women who attended the shiur with whom she could surely find some common ground. But she preferred to stay home with Duvi and Shloimy.
Maybe this week she should go? They’d been here for more than ten months already; she needed to break the barrier of her shyness at some point. And if there didn’t seem to be a return date on the horizon, then that “some point” would best be very soon.
Dena folded her needlepoint without adding even one stitch, and stuck it back into the flat package it had come in. A friend was a good idea, but it would not fill all her empty hours.
Bentzy had suggested that perhaps she could also work at the factory, and maybe that would give her some fulfillment. She’d stared at him in surprise. The packaging factory? Her? He’d laughed and said he hadn’t meant work scraping machines, but something more office-oriented, like photocopying papers or answering phones.
After the substituting jobs she’d had in the local playgroup back home, and her regular Monday job at the Ohr HaTorah preschool, she couldn’t imagine herself working at the factory. She’d prefer a million times more to tell stories to little children, because then at least she’d feel like she was doing something meaningful.
It would be one thing if she’d need to work in order to help support her family, or if it was a chessed organization; then she’d be happy to do it. But if this work was only to resolve the issue of her boredom, it all seemed so pointless. Just to sit in an industrial office and answer phones? What kind of lofty meaning could such a job possibly have?
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