by Naomi Ragen
“We will find someone to help out.”
“But the expense…”
“I will bring home my first paycheck soon. That is the first thing we will spend it on. Help for you, my dear Leah-le.”
She studied his handsome, kind face, flushed now with the effort to be understanding, to reach out to her, to make things better. Her whole body tingled for his touch, wanting to kiss him, hug him. But the enforced physical separation could not be breached. This was the halacha. She wanted to cry with frustration.
And so they patched things up. But it was not over, she knew. It was just beginning. One day, she would be forced to tell him everything.
* * *
“Shoshana, it’s me. Are you busy?”
“Leah, how are you? It’s been so long.”
Since her marriage, Wednesday nights at the skating rink had been put aside along with her Rollerblades. There was simply no time.
“How are the wedding plans going?”
“It’s … complicated.”
Oh no! Leah thought. Like her, her friend Dr. Shoshana Glaser had crossed a minefield to achieve her engagement to the man she loved, a fellow medical doctor, newly divorced and undergoing the conversion process to Judaism. “I thought you were all set!”
“Nothing is ever easy, is it?” She sighed. “But let’s not talk about that. How are you doing?”
“Could we meet for coffee? Do you have time?”
“For you, Leah, I’ll make time. Evenings are best for me.”
How could she get away in the evening? That was the most hectic part of her day! Someone would have to put dinner out for the kids, then put them to bed. Yaakov would find the house empty. No, evenings were impossible. “Do you have a morning free?”
“You know I love you, but I can’t do mornings. I have rounds and then the clinic. Can’t you get a babysitter one night?”
She had never left the children with a babysitter. Maybe she could ask Fruma Esther? She didn’t think the old woman would mind, so little was asked of her these days since she had taken over all the cooking and childcare. But then she remembered what Fruma Esther had said about not being able to lift Mordechai Shalom. What if she tried and broke something! Was it even responsible to leave the children with her? Yet it was urgent she speak to Shoshana, her best friend in the haredi world and a fellow rebel; the only person she knew who would understand and wouldn’t judge.
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you just ask your husband to watch them for an hour one evening?” There was a bit of exasperation in Shoshana’s voice.
Of course. She could put them to bed first. He wouldn’t have that much to do; he’d be happy to do it. But then she remembered: he was starting his learning program with Meir in the evening. But surely not every night! He would have one night free. She needed to find out which.
“Of course. I’ll call you back. Which night are you free?”
“Let me see.”
Leah heard the rustling sound of flipping pages.
“I have a meeting with my parents’ gerontologist Monday, and John and I are looking at halls on Tuesday. Thursday, I have to go out of town for the weekend. Hey, what about Rollerblading on Wednesday, like old times? I still go every week. I couldn’t survive without it.”
“I hope I haven’t forgotten how.” Leah laughed ruefully. Look how complicated their lives had become! She felt like crying in frustration. But she didn’t want to talk about this while Rollerblading around a rink with dozens of strangers. “Please, Shoshana. I need to talk to you.”
Something in the timbre of her voice must have conveyed the urgency to her friend.
“Okay. No Rollerblading.”
“Thank you so much! Let me see if Yaakov is free. It will be so wonderful to see you.”
He didn’t like to take personal calls at work unless it was an emergency, he’d explained to her, because it was like cheating his employer, siphoning off time he was being paid to work. In such matters, he was absolutely scrupulous, which only made her respect and love him more. After all, if a man wouldn’t cheat his employer out of two minutes’ time, what were the chances he would cheat on his wife? Or lie to her?
“Yaakov?”
“Something happened?”
“No, everything is fine. I’m sorry to call you at work. I just … I need to know what evening this week you are going to Meir.”
“Why is this so important it couldn’t wait for the evening?”
There was a pause as she took in the uncharacteristic harshness in his tone.
“I’m sorry, but it can’t wait,” she answered unapologetically. “I am arranging to meet my friend Shoshana, and she is very busy.”
Unlike me, he thought with a touch of bitterness. But this was his wife, his Leah-le, he quickly reminded himself before his frustration could seep into his answer. He exhaled. “I arranged to see him on Wednesday.”
“Oh,” she sighed. “Well, never mind, then.”
“No, wait, what—?”
“Never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“We’ll talk this evening. Goodbye, Leah-le.”
She sat with the cell phone in her hand, tears falling softly down her cheeks. I’m trapped, she thought with a sense of near panic. Trapped.
And then it came to her. Shaindele.
She had been so careful not to take the girl’s time for granted. She never asked her to babysit or pick the children up from school. But this one time, perhaps she wouldn’t mind. Lately, though, the girl had taken to coming home later and later each evening. Remembering her own teen years, she didn’t like to interrogate her. After all, she wasn’t a normal American teenager. She was a Bais Yaakov girl, held to the strictest possible standards of behavior. Besides, she’d heard Yaakov asking her about it, and he seemed to find her answers satisfactory. Something about studying for exams, was it? A strangely typical teenage cover story, she thought skeptically. But if, in the unlikely scenario Shaindele was lying and was actually off living it up somewhere, why would she want to be the one to blow the whistle? More power to her! Soon enough, she’d be living a staid, middle-aged life as a teacher, having a child every year, and working like a dog.
She was shocked at herself. Where are these negative thoughts coming from? She was suddenly frightened. She really must talk to Shoshana, and she needed to do it now, she told herself urgently, before things got so bad there would be no turning back.
* * *
To her surprise, Shaindele was strangely evasive. But she didn’t say no, just maybe.
“I have to have a definite answer, Shaindele. I can’t make an appointment to meet my friend with a ‘maybe.’”
She was sullen when she looked up. “I don’t know what’s happening on Wednesday.”
Leah was aghast. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I could be busy.”
“Well, maybe you could rearrange your time so you won’t be busy? Just change it to another night?”
“I’m not sure,” she repeated stubbornly.
“Well, I am sure!” she exploded, despite all her efforts and good intentions. “I don’t ask you to do anything! I wash and iron your clothes, wash the dishes, make you dinners, and even pack your lunches! What am I asking from you that makes it so hard for you to say yes? One hour on a Wednesday night? We are a family, and I need your help!”
“You could find a babysitter,” Shaindele insisted, bringing Leah’s frustration to the boiling point.
“You know, I think the time has come for you to tell me exactly what you are doing every night until so late,” Leah said, her voice uncharacteristically steely. That got the girl’s attention, all right, Leah saw.
“I … I already told Tateh.”
“I know what you told your tateh. But maybe I’ll just call this Shulamis Glickstein’s mom and ask her about it.”
“No, don’t do that!” Shaindele shouted.
“Lower your voice, young lady.”
/> “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mother.”
“And you can’t tell me what to do. What’s Shulamis’s phone number?”
“None of your business!”
“Okay, never mind. I’ll look it up on the computer. Glickstein.” There were probably two million Glicksteins in Boro Park, Leah thought, but the threat should be enough. It was.
“All right already! I’ll do it. I’ll babysit for you on Wednesday night,” she said ungraciously.
“Thank you, Shaindele,” Leah answered with a corresponding lack of grace, shutting the door to her room with a little bang.
The children heard the raised voices and heard the door slam. They had never seen Leah angry. Mordechai Shalom began to cry, and Chasya sat on the floor with her back to the wall, holding her stomach.
What have I done? Leah thought, terrified.
She lifted Mordechai Shalom into her arms and hugged him, then crouched down next to Chasya. “Shall we put on some music and dance?”
The tears immediately disappeared, and the child jumped up and put her soft little arms around Leah’s neck.
“Not Pirchei,” she demanded, referring to the yeshiva boy choir.
“Okay, not Pirchei. But we’ll have to play it softly, and you can’t jump up and down. Mrs. Weitz downstairs doesn’t like the noise. And we have to pull down all the shades so nobody can see us.”
“Why can’t they see us?” Chasya asked.
A question! “Well, because when you have so much fun, people get jealous and then they want to join in and have fun, too. But I don’t want Mrs. Weitz to dance with us, do you?”
Chasya shook her head, beginning to giggle, astonished at the idea of the harried, heavy woman with her huge, pendulous breasts hopping up and down the way she did when she danced.
“So we’ll be very, very quiet and dance like this,” Leah said, putting Mordechai Shalom down, then pulling down all the shades. She began tiptoeing softly in circles around the living room, humming her favorite sixties songs, waving her hands wildly, and shaking her head up and back like vintage Janis Joplin. The children laughed hysterically, following behind her, imitating her, not bothering to wait for her to put on music.
Their laughter, she thought, is better than any music, any antidepressant. I must never compromise or endanger it for any reason that is in my power to prevent. Please, God, make this my prayer. Help me to keep my word.
10
THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
She got to the coffee shop early, taking a seat by the window so that she might at least see her friend’s little red car pass by—there was no way she’d find a parking space nearby. It was an Italian convertible, an extravagant engagement present from John. “Who needs a diamond ring when all I do all day is sterilize my hands and put on rubber gloves?” Shoshana laughed.
He’d given her a ring anyway, a circle of marquise diamonds with a sapphire center stone, the “color of your eyes, my love.”
Leah looked at her own simple wedding band, which by custom must be of plain, unengraved, solid gold. Yaakov wanted to buy her an engagement ring. He was going to sell Zissele’s jewelry to pay for it, but she’d stopped him. “Put it away for Shaindele. She should have something from her mother.”
She really didn’t care, she kept telling herself. She’d known the life she was choosing when she fell in love with a haredi widower with five children.
She remembered her days as a hi-tech product manager and sales representative earning bonuses so obscene that she’d been able to afford anything: a Manhattan apartment she’d shared with Andrew, who made even more than she did; designer purses; season tickets to the Met and ballet. Often she’d pass by Tiffany’s and Bulgari on Fifth Avenue on her way to work, stopping to stare at the bling in the windows. She loved bling as much as any woman, she told herself. Just not enough to barter body and soul for it.
There she was, her dear friend, as slim and beautiful as ever! As usual rushing, just a little late.
“Shoshana!” She rose, throwing her arms around her friend.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Leah waved her explanations away. “Do not apologize. I’m the one who is stealing your precious Rollerblading time. It was very good of you. I would never have asked unless it…” Her voice trailed off.
Shoshana looked at her searchingly as she shrugged off her coat. “Spill.”
Leah swallowed. Could she? Would she? She thought of Chasya holding her stomach and Mordechai Shalom’s tears. She had prayed, and now she had to do the work. Hishtadlus, it was called. You prayed, but then it was incumbent upon you to make every effort humanly possible to solve your own problems. Only then would God intervene to help.
“Shoshana, I’m struggling. I don’t know how much longer I can go on.”
Her friend reached across the table, taking Leah’s hand in both her own. She was shocked. “But I thought you were so happy! That you and Yaakov … the children … that it was everything you ever dreamed of. What’s happened?”
“Nothing … everything. I am happier than I have ever been in my life and more in love with the man I married than I ever dreamed possible. He is the best person … the most loving partner, father…” She choked, the tears rolling down her cheeks shamelessly, the floodgates opening. She tried to stop, taking the tissue hurriedly offered by her friend and blowing her nose as she wiped her eyes on her sleeves.
“Yes, you look ecstatic,” Shoshana drawled, which just started Leah off again. “Okay, okay. Sorry. We’ll be serious now.” She waited for a few moments until Leah was able to compose herself, the appearance of a waitress with notepad in hand speeding up the process.
“I’ll have a latte with soy milk and a butter croissant,” Shoshana told the girl, who was trying not to stare as Leah dabbed her eyes and straightened her tichel. “What do you want, Leah?”
But she couldn’t speak.
“She’ll have an almond croissant and a cup of green tea. Jasmine, if you have it.” Shoshana turned her attention back to Leah. “Is that okay?”
Leah nodded.
The girl disappeared.
“I’m sorry. I … I just have no one to talk to about these things.”
“What things?”
Leah took a deep breath. “Taharas hamishpacha.”
Shoshana leaned back. Family purity, the umbrella term for everything relating to sex. Of course. What else? The one thing you could never bring up with your sex partner! So ridiculous. But she tried to be kind. “I’m a little surprised, Leah. I expected you to have problems, but I thought it would be all the housework and childcare being dumped on you, in addition to developing your business and paying the bills—”
“Yaakov started working full-time!” She felt compelled to interrupt, to defend him.
“You know I love Yaakov. He’s one of the good guys,” Shoshana placated. “But sex? Really?” She raised her eyebrows in amusement.
“What, because I wasn’t a virgin?”
“Well, sort of. And even though this is Yaakov’s second marriage, I expected you to be the experienced one in this relationship.”
She shook her head miserably. “It’s not the sex. That’s been wonderful.”
“Glad to hear it!” She blushed, then smiled. “Then…?”
She lowered her voice to a whisper, looking around. “It’s the lack of sex! It’s the whole thing. The counting seven clean days after your period, the vaginal inspections, and the mikvah—that bewigged matron examining my naked body, picking off stray hairs—I could really live without that, believe me … but it isn’t even that. The worst thing, the very worst thing is…” She paused, swallowing a sob caught in her throat. “It’s that we aren’t able to touch each other, even hand each other a plate of food, or sit on the couch together, and our beds are pushed apart for almost two weeks every month. It’s driving me insane! I don’t know how much more of this I will be able to stand.” Again, the tears rolled down her cheeks.
&
nbsp; “Wow!” Shoshana handed her another tissue. Then she sat silently, rearranging the packets of sugar.
The waitress arrived, placing their orders in front of them. The croissants smelled heavenly, as did the coffee and tea. They waited silently until the girl unpacked her tray and left. Shoshana leaned forward, sipping her drink, then crumbling the pastry before slipping only a tiny fraction into her mouth.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to say. Remember, you’re talking to a girl who’s never been married. And while I admit John and I haven’t exactly been saints, there is so much I still don’t know. Have you talked this over with Yaakov? Does he know how you feel?”
“How can I?” Leah burst out, gripping the table. “He’ll hate me. He’ll be so disappointed. It will just confirm for him everything people told him before he married me: that my religious commitment wouldn’t last, that I’d change my mind and want to go back to my secular life as soon as I figured out how hard this would be.”
“But, Leah, why now? I don’t remember you complaining about your wedding night. I’m sure it wasn’t what you were used to, but the two of you seemed to manage that all right.”
“Because we could talk about it. Because Maimonides says a man and a woman can do anything they want during the times they are permitted to be together. So everything else is custom, stringency, not halacha. Taharas hamishpacha, that’s halacha. No way around it. How can I ask Yaakov to sin?”
“You know, I think you are misjudging the situation. A lot of what goes on in the haredi world—including taharas hamishpacha—aren’t biblical laws carved in stone on Mount Sinai. They are customs or rabbinical add-ons, strictures created simply to keep a fence around the actual biblical laws. Like not touching a pen on Shabbos when the actual prohibition is not to write.”
Leah leaned back. “So does that mean we can … that there is room to navigate?”
Shoshana shrugged. “You are the two people in this relationship. It is going to be what you both decide it’s going to be.”
