We’re out, now, living a safe, happy life. My prayers have changed from, “Please help me,” to, “Thank you.”
Navigate to other chapters of Homeless... at Home by Shlomit Weber
Homeless... at Home
Table of contents
Chapter 18 - Woman of Valor
Chapter 19 - Aftershocks
I was on my way to work this morning, starting the first day with my new status, and I stopped at a red light next to a kiosk that sells flowers. The riot of colors matched my mood, and also reminded me of some unfinished business.
My lawyer didn’t appear at the court with us or at the rabbinate. I realized that she doesn’t even know yet that the divorce is final.
I dragged my bike up onto the sidewalk, bought two bunches of the cheeriest flowers, and took a detour over to Dina’s office building.
I bounced into the waiting room with a grin and a flourish. The receptionist looked up, “Shlomit! Hi! Wow! Flowers! Dina – it’s Shlomit!”
“Shlomit?” Dina called from her room. I went in and held out the flowers to her. I couldn’t trust my voice, so it was a good thing Dina spoke first as she rose and came around her disk, her grin matching mine.
“You did it. You’re finally finished with him.”
Dina took the flowers, hugged me, and then stepped back and folded her arms across her chest, contemplating me. “When did we start this, Shlomit?”
“Over three years ago,” I admitted with a grimace of chagrin.
“You’re not the same person, Shlomit. You were such a mouse three years ago. I honestly doubted whether you would go through with it. But you did.”
On my way out through the waiting room I wondered if either of the nervous-looking women sitting there was envying me – being on the other side of all the pain.
Five years ago, I spoke with a woman who had just left her abusive husband. “You know the feeling you get in your chest when you hear his key in the door? Well, I haven’t felt that for a month now.”
Well, we haven’t felt that feeling for three months now. Seth has never been in this house and hopefully never will be. At first, we felt the same giddy freedom we experienced when he was away on a trip. I thought that would fade as reality set in, but the joy and peace has only gotten sweeter and deeper with the passing weeks.
Leora said that her friends pointed out that my wrinkles have disappeared.
I barely recognize my daughter these days. Her room is neat and tidy because she says she can’t study in a balagan. She has organized her notebooks and frequently shows me beautiful pages of notes she has copied over in rainbow colors. I realize that I haven’t gotten an envelope from her school for a couple of months now, and at first I wondered if the school has our new address. But Leora has shown me several very respectable test papers.
Eli is blossoming. He made up a fully functional tool chest for Seth, and Seth agreed that Eli could have the rest of the tools. Eli told him he can always borrow anything he needs.
Leora said recently that our house feels more like normal peoples’ houses now.
Eli showed me plans he had drawn up for a bed/cabinet for their room at Abba’s house. The next time I talked to Seth, he told me to inform Eli that he is not willing to have such a monstrosity in his house.
Rafi is … engaged. He listens to our conversations and participates. No longer seems to be shutting out the world.
I find I like cooking – and even washing dishes. We eat real cooked food every night of the week.
Mom has a Malapropism: “If I were me …” Well, we’re finding out who we are when we are us.
I can tell from people's reactions to my announcement, something about their own marriages, because they project their situation onto mine.
Some people say, "Oh! The poor children!" They obviously have husbands who are a positive force in their children's lives. Like Dad has always been in ours.
The ones who ask, "How will you manage?" obviously have husbands who share their burdens.
The ones who look excited and envious, and ask for details about the legal aspects, or ask how I convinced Seth to sign the agreement or to let me have the children or to give me the gett - they must have entertained thoughts of leaving. I wonder what goes on behind their closed doors.
Some seem angry or disappointed in me for not sticking it out. Is it because they've been putting up with years of misery in their marriages and they feel that I am taking the easy way out?
I guess I'm a 'divorce snob'. I wouldn’t have divorced Seth if he had been a good father, no matter what was going on between the two of us.
But who can decide for someone else?
Hi Kay,
Last night we had an impromptu party and sing-along.
I had thought I would spend the evening buying varnish for the bookshelves. This afternoon Eli finished the cupboards that the shelves will sit on - they look great.
But Yehuda called and asked whether he could stop by on his way to folk club. Eli said to ask if he's bringing supper, and Yehuda said he had some Moroccan meatballs. I had leftover chinese chicken.
We had a meal of leftovers and conversation, and then Yehuda got his banjo from the car. He said he could skip the folk club. I got out my guitar, and the song books, and we all sang and sang – pausing (or singing louder) every time Eli called out, “I’m drilling!” It was really fun.
Love, Shlomit
Henny is here for Passover. We always laugh when we remember her first visit. Uncle Henry had said that his friend would be visiting Israel for the holidays, and wondered whether she could stay with us. When she arrived, I apologized … the house was torn apart because the children and I were in the process of painting walls. Henny said that she loves to paint, and if I had an extra painting tee-shirt she would love to help.
Henny has been helping us clean all week, and we were enjoying a quiet restful Friday evening – all three children were with Seth at the old house.
Henny was exclaiming over the transformation in our family. “Shlomit! He was such a drain on all of you! You and the children are so lively and happy now!”
“Yeah - professionals have been telling me that all of us will need serious therapy to overcome the years of abuse. But just three months of living out from under his thumb has worked wonders. Henny – when I look back and think how we all were when we lived with him …”
Just then, the front door crashed open and Leora came in and plunked herself down at the table, looking as though she were about to cry.
“What happened, Sweetie?”
She just shook her head and Henny said, “Well, we’re very glad to have you here. Just the girls!”
Leora tried to smile at Henny, but it was a very sad smile. “Ima, I know you want us to try and have a normal relationship with Abba, but … you should tell Abba that, not us!”
“What happened?”
“Oh, nothing. He just let me know what I already knew. What he really thinks of me. That’s all.”
“Aw …” I put my arm around her and pulled her toward me.
“It doesn’t matter, Ima. I don’t even care at all. I don’t expect him to love me or anything. It’s just him being him.”
She sat a moment. “Rafi and I were just goofing around. He was laughing, Ima, you can ask him. But – as always, Abba wants Rafi all to himself. I forgot that it’s different at his house. Nobody else is allowed to even joke around with Rafi at Abba’s. So Abba suddenly charged at me and started screaming, ‘You’re a retard! You’re a retard! Get out of here! Go home! Go to your mother!’ He calls you ‘your mother’ now, not ‘Ima’.”
I hugged Leora again, and Henny put a bowl of fruit compote and ice cream in front of her.
“That’s not the worst part, Ima. I left. I was happy to leave. I only went over there because you said maybe he would be better with us if it was only once a week. But he followed me out the front door shouting so the whole neighborhood could hear him – “You're a retard! And bring back my shirt!” She puckered up but sighed a shaky sigh and found her voice. “Ima, it was like … he didn’t only want me to get away from him just then, because he was angry. It was like … like he wanted me out of his life forever. Like … like if he never saw me again he would be happy and … and all he would worry about was that maybe he wouldn’t get his flannel shirt back, that I wore home after we swam at his new apartment building yesterday.”
Ah. Now that he's got the pool, he doesn't feel he has to be nice, too.
We talked of other things for a few minutes, and then we heard Seth’s voice out front, commanding, “You two wait out here.” Didn’t want any more defectors, I guess.
Leora jumped up from her seat. “Ima!” she whispered. “He’s coming to apologize. I’m just not ready to hear him apologize yet. What does he think? That he can just come and say, ‘I’m sorry,’ and it doesn’t matter what he did? Tell him I went to bed.” She ran upstairs.
Seth? Coming to apologize?
Seth pounded on the door. His tattoo did not suggest a mindset of meek apology. I opened the door with trepidation, and he barked at me, “Where is she. Tell her I want my shirt!”
“Seth … can’t she bring it …”
“I! Want! It! Now!”
“Leora has already gone upstairs …”
“I can wait,” he ground out between his teeth.
The shirt came flying down the stairs. I handed it to Seth and he turned wordlessly and left. Eli and Rafi, standing outside the gate, gave me miserable, longing looks, then followed Seth back to the old house. It wasn’t going to be a pleasant evening over there.
Leora flounced downstairs. I went to hug her but she twisted away. “No. I don’t care. I don’t care what he says or what he does or what he thinks. If I’m less important to him than an old shirt, why should I care about him?”
We three took the dogs for their walk.
“Ima, I’m just glad he said it to me and not to Eli. Eli would have been really sad.”
We walked in silence to the empty lot and sat on the stone wall while the dogs wandered around.
“I’m trying to fool myself, huh, Ima. I’m trying to pretend I don’t care if my own father thinks I’m retarded and wants me out of his life forever.”
Seth, Seth, Seth. Shortsighted Seth.
Hi, Kay,
As they say, you can divorce your husband, but the children can't divorce their father.
There was another run-in between Seth and Leora last Friday.
That night Leora told me she wants to be a Weber. She wants both of us, and the boys if they want to, to change our names so we have no connection with Seth. (We found out today, that until age 18, children must have their father’s last name.)
All week he has been phoning and asking for her, wanting to invite her over – in line with his philosophy that what’s past can just be forgotten. But she has me make excuses for her each time.
What should I do? Should I talk to him? The direct approach doesn't work with Seth. But neither does the indirect approach. If she keeps declining, will he give up? Does he need to have them visit to support his claim that there were never problems between him and them? She feels he’s hounding her and she's getting stressed by it. She needs time to heal, without being badgered and reminded of him every time the phone rings.
Sorry – this is sounding like the other dozens of ‘What should I do?’ letters I have written to you over the years.
Love, Shlomit
Well, I overreacted today. I came downstairs to find Seth in my living room. He usually stays out on the front porch if he comes over for any reason.
I burst out, “What are you doing here?”
Poor Eli explained, “I wanted to show Abba the book shelves …” I went back upstairs till Seth left and then I apologized to Eli.
“I’m sorry, Eli. Of course, you can invite anyone you want, to our house. I’m glad Abba wanted to see your shelves. But after that Shabbat when he chased poor Leora out of his house, it was just a shock to see him come right into ours, where Leora came to be away from him. I overreacted.”
I have to admit that I’m surprised at the effort Seth is making to maintain contact with the children. He calls once a week, just to talk with them, in between times when they visit him. They roll their eyes when they’re called to the phone, but they usually do talk to him.
In the weeks since he called her a ‘retard’, Leora still won’t talk to Seth or visit him. She has had me make excuses every time he asks. A head cold or friends over or exams to study for. If she answers the phone and hears his voice, she immediately calls, “Eli! Rafi! Phone!”
Last week after Seth and I had discussed the painter he found to paint the walls in the old house, he asked if Leora was here. She was sitting right next to me on my bed. “Oh … you want to talk to Leora?” I asked for her benefit. She mouthed, “No!” and waggled her finger.
“Uh … she’s … busy …” Well, busy braiding the fringes on the rainbow banner is ‘busy’, I guess …
“… No, I don’t think she’ll be coming over this weekend with the boys …” I raised my eyebrows at Leora. She wrinkled her nose and again mouthed “No!” In any case, the ‘weekend’ is really only eating Friday night dinner there, and then coming back here or going to friends.
“… Well, of course it has been awhile, Seth. The last time she did come, it wasn’t at all pleasant for her.”
“… You don’t remember that you called her names and shouted at her to leave?”
“… It was the last time she did visit you. Before Passover. In the old house.”
“… Well, maybe you don’t, but she does remember, Seth. It is, after all, the sort of thing someone would remember …”
“… No, Seth. I’m not going to try to convince her. This is between you and Leora. I want her to have a relationship with you, but you’ve got to hold up your end. I’m not going to encourage her to spend time with you if you just insult her.”
“... Well, maybe she is, Seth, but that wouldn’t be totally unexpected, because in fact she IS a child. But you’re not a child, so you just go figure out an adult way out of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
I flinched and put the phone down.
“He tisked and slammed the phone down, right? Ima – Abba should watch Lion King.”
“Yeah. Honey, I think you’re going to have to make the first move at reconciliation. Some weekend soon you should visit him. Before the summer vacation, or else …”
“Or else he will use it as an excuse not to take me to the hotel. That I didn’t come to him for two months. OK, I'll go. It’s really not fair though, Ima.”
“No, but …”
“I know. I know what you’re going to say, Ima. ‘Life isn’t fair!’”
That ragged sigh should never come from someone so young.
When I was clearing my books off the shelves in the old house, I asked, “Seth, what about the photo albums?”
“Take them,” he shrugged.
“I could … the children and I could go through and make up some albums for you to have.”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever.”
Can he really not care whether he ever sees snapshots of his children growing up?
Today on my way home I bought a couple of new photo albums and Leora and Rafi and I went through our thirty or so albums to extract snapshots Seth might want.
Eli joined us and flipped through one of the albums we had finished going through – that now had a blank spot every few pages.
“Ima, are you removing all of the pictures of Abba?” he asked.
“No, of course not! Just giving him some shots of outings we all went on, visits from his parents – that kind of thing.”
“Oh. Because … there aren’t any of Abba left in this album.”
“There must be, Eli – he doesn’t take pictures. If he’s not behind the camera, he must be in front of it sometimes!” I laughed.
“No, look,” Eli flipped past lunchtime picnics in the carob orchard, parties in day care, play houses, projects, dress-up sessions, finger painting, boating at Paul and Nancy's island, the three of them on a tree branch like giggling little birds. Baking Hamantaschen, decorating birthday cakes, first day of school. Gardening when Seth was away, cooking when Seth was away.
Seth wasn’t in the pictures because Seth wasn’t with us. Life happened while he was busy making other plans. Life happened during the couple of hours in the afternoon when I was home and Seth wasn’t. The evenings were usually nothing we wanted to preserve in pictures. The photos in Seth’s new albums were mostly posed family pictures. On his parents’ deck, at the zoo …
And … this one. Lighting Haukkah candles with Uncle Henry a decade ago, a few weeks into Seth’s worst depression. Henry is looking at the camera, saying something. Rafi is lighting his menorah, Leora is telling Rafi something, and Eli is holding the prayer book open for Rafi, so he can say the blessing.
And Seth … Seth’s gaze is off into space. He’s standing there but he isn’t with us.
Jessica called to invite me to a jam session at their house. Over the years that I’ve known them, Jessica and Yehuda have often invited me over to play and sing with them. The only times I accepted were when Seth was abroad.
In the months that we have been ‘out’, I have been to Ashdod twice and they have been up here several times.
“Do you know Bruce?” Jessica asked, “He’ll be coming over. He’s a fiddler.”
Can you believe - my first thought was, “Maybe he’s single!” Good grief, why? I just got out of an awful marriage and have had the best months of my adult life, and I’m ‘looking’?
Jessica and Yehuda and I were playing some of Yehuda’s bluegrass favorites when there was a squeal of car brakes outside and they both laughed, “That’s Bruce!”
A minute later he came in. My age. Kind gentle gray eyes. Eye-contact eyes. Gentle deep voice. Jeans and hiking boots. He’s a terrific fiddler, and sang us a beautiful song he had written.
At one point he asked how I know Jessica and Yehuda, and Jessica said, “Shlomit and her ex-husband used to live near us.”
I remember the first time I heard Seth referred to as my husband. Mom and Dad were visiting, and we were shopping. When we were ready to leave the store, Mom said, “Go tell your husband we’re ready to go.” She smiled at my double take. That blond guy in the army jacket, over there examining flashlights, is my ‘husband’!
Well, here I was, all these years later, and this was the first time I was hearing someone refer to Seth as my ex-husband.
Bruce’s head snapped up and he looked at me with interest.
“Bruce built his own house,” Yehuda volunteered. “Literally. Brick by brick.” He turned to Bruce. “Shlomit and her kids are big DIY-ers.”
So there I was, already daydreaming about having Bruce hanging around the house giving Eli some tips from his experience in building, to round out Eli’s enthusiasm and knack. I could see them working companionably together, as Eli and Seth once painted the bars on the front gate together, and I had hoped that the camaraderie of working together could grow into a friendship between father and son.
Bruce walked me out to the car on the flimsy pretext of carrying my guitar for me. We talked about this and that, and then he asked, “Are you … looking for somebody?”
“Well, everything’s still pretty fresh, but … in principle ...”
He nodded. “Why did you and your ex split up?”
“Seth was … hurting the children.”
“Oh.”
“Why did you two split up?”
Last time I was meeting people, the getting-to-know-you questions were, ‘What high school did you go to? What’s your major? How many brothers and sisters do you have? Do you ski?” Now, I guess, it’s, “What happened the first time you tried to establish a relationship?”
He sighed. “My wife turned my daughter against me. When I tried to discipline her, her mother always took her side. She totally undermined my authority with my own child. I told my wife I wasn’t going to stand for the disrespect, so I left. My daughter hasn’t spoken to me since I moved out. It’s a pity – we had a really good marriage until then.”
We exchanged some more small talk. “So … I can call?” he asked.
“Yeah. That would be nice.”
Poor guy. It’s so unfair for one parent to turn the children against the other parent.
Or … is his complaint exactly what Seth would claim about Leora? Is Bruce’s story a repeat of Seth’s? Did he mistreat his children, but for all the ‘good’ years his wife was bending over backward to keep things together until she decided she had no choice but to side with her child?
“Seth? Hi. This is Shlomit. I just had a thought … Joanie will be bringing her parents over this afternoon to see our house. I thought maybe your aunt and uncle could stop by and see your new place … maybe take some pictures … they could give your parents a first hand report when they get back.”
“But I’m still bringing stuff over. It’s not totally ready.”
“Oh, they’ll understand that it’s not in its final form. But they’re flying home on Thursday.”
Annoyed tisk. “I was going to spend all afternoon bringing stuff. I could have made three more trips.”
“It was just a thought …”
“Oh, all right.” Doing me a big favor.
“Great. Thanks. I’ll tell David how to get to your building.”
“You can come too.”
“Oh. OK. Thanks. Then I’ll come, too.”
The visit with Joanie’s family was nice. Seth's aunt and uncle oohed and ahed over Eli’s shelves and the desk in my room. Leora’s stenciled border. Even my make-shift bed – an old mattress on black root beer crates that serve as bookshelves. It does look kind of IKEA-ish.
Much of the tour was futuristic, “... and here we’ll have a pond, and here we’ll have curtains and here we’ll have a computer table.”
While we drove over to Seth’s place, his aunt rolled her eyes. “It’s just so strange that he’s moving all of his belongings on a little trolley! Walking through the streets of town wheeling a pile of cartons or a bedside table!”
Last week Joanie had asked whether Seth had moved yet. I told her that except for the biggest pieces, he was trundling everything bit by bit on a dolly he borrowed from the lab. “Can’t he be normal about anything?” Joanie had wondered. I guess it got back to her parents.
“Well, we also moved by ourselves,” I defended, “We only hired a truck for things that wouldn’t fit in the car.”
“We keep telling Abba that Ima said she’ll drive the station wagon back and forth as many times as he needs,” Leora added, “And we kids will help get the stuff up in the elevator. But he always says, ‘I don’t need her help, thank you very much.’
He finally said, ‘thank you very much’ and it was said sarcastically.
Seth’s apartment is beautiful. Bright and airy and new. The view is stupendous. You can see a strip of the Mediterranean to the west. Of course, it was surrealistic to see all of our furniture there looking neat and sterile, as it never looked when all of us lived with it.
Hi Kay,
We had a really nice Independence Day, yesterday. I didn't realize the extent to which I dreaded days at home, all these years. We didn't do anything special - went to the beach (on the way, we rescued a baby turtle who was tying to cross the highway). Came home and got cleaned up and grilled steaks - a MUST for Independence Day. Then we toasted marshmallows and I brought out my guitar and we sang and then rented a DVD.
What do you think … should I write a book about my experiences with a person like Seth?
The past two decades seem such a futile waste. All the effort I put into that relationship, and I still wound up divorced. But if a book came out of it, and helped other women, it would all have been worth something.
Could there be a humorous novel about child abuse? We saw A Beautiful Life - the "funny" movie about the concentration camps. Leora and I talked about it yesterday - there was nothing funny about the camps or the deaths or the situation, in the movie, but the protagonist had a happy-go-lucky personality, and could stay happy and cheer people up in spite of the terrible events. Could you have a character who gets joy where she can, and provides an upbeat atmosphere for the children where she can?
I wrote some paragraphs yesterday about the years at the university when Seth and I first met. Now, all day, I have such strong feelings and memories from those college years. I've thought and talked about events from back then, but never in the concentrated depth you need in order to write about it.
Leora wants to write some chapters from her standpoint. She told me I have to get the point across that the hitting is not the worst. The words and the feelings are the worst.
Love, Shlomit
The game is over. It’s just going to take me awhile to realize it.
Bruce and I have talked on the phone every few days and he has come to the house twice. He came over tonight and asked, “What would you like to do – go for a walk?”
I was just about to say OK when he added, “… or stay here and play some music?”
I was stymied. When Seth would propose something, he always made it clear what I was supposed to agree to. Even when he would put up a straw man option, I could tell which was the right answer.
Then Bruce added to my consternation: “… or did you have something else in mind?”
OK. That last was probably the straw man. He probably wants to walk or fiddle – but which?
“Anything … whatever you want ...” I tried, hoping for some more hints.
“Well, anything is fine with me.”
What’s THAT supposed to mean???? ‘Fine with me’ was always Seth’s phrase for when we’re going to do something I have suggested and he thinks it’s a bad idea and will do his darnedest to make sure it doesn’t work out. But it must mean something different in Bruce-speak from what it does in Seth-speak.
I was getting a little annoyed by now. I guess it’s hard to get to know a new person. You don’t yet know how to interpret their code. How to read between the lines.
Then I looked up into Bruce’s pleasant, kind face and it was nothing like Seth’s challenging, threatening face when he was waiting for me choose the correct option.
And it suddenly hit me. “You mean it, don’t you!” I said with a giggle of incredulity. I put my hand on Bruce’s arm.
“Mean what?” It was his turn to be puzzled.
“You really want to know what I want to do tonight. There’s not a right answer and a wrong answer. I mean … you hadn’t already decided, before you asked me, what you wanted to do. If you had already decided, you would have said, ‘I would really like to … whatever.’
Poor Bruce! He had no idea what I was babbling on about.
I sighed and shook my head. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I told you I had some baggage, and this is … probably just one small gym bag. It’s going to take me awhile to get used to being with a normal straightforward person.”
So we went for a walk. Walking side by side instead of single file – a refreshing blend of where he wanted to go and where I wanted to go - and then came back and played Irish music for awhile. Rafi recorded Bruce’s fiddling on the computer so I can practice the guitar chords for ‘next time’.
Hi, Kay,
You said your friend enjoys her kid-free evenings when they’re with their father. It hasn’t worked out that way here.
Since Seth's "retard" rampage, Leora hasn't gone to visit him at all, and when the boys go, they don't stay long. Last Tuesday, the boys went to Seth, and Leora and I were just hunkering down for some girl talk, when "swish" (the sound of the weather strip under our front door) the boys were back . They had barely had time to wolf down a couple of slices of pizza.
And on Shabbat, they usually show up, sometimes with friends, soon after dinner.
This Tuesday, Seth was going to take Eli and Rafi out for Rafi’s birthday supper. I drove Eli and Rafi to the pizza place right after Rafi’s piano lesson because there wasn’t going to be much time before Eli’s eye checkup. Luckily Seth offered to go to the doctor with Eli straight from Sbarro. Leora had three friends over. I had just gotten Leora and her friends started making waffle batter when Rafi called to be picked up at Seth's. I barely got home before Eli called to be picked up because he had homework. I got home from that trip to find that the waffles had flopped, so I made a batch of pancake batter. Then the eye doctor called to say that the pack of snapshots Rafi was supposed to give to Seth, had been left in the waiting room, and if I don’t pick them up right away, there's no telling if I'll ever see them again, because they're moving tomorrow to a new office. So that was my quiet ‘Visitation Tuesday’ for this week!
Till I start my hot love affairs, that's OK by me.
Love, Shlomit
We had a really nice camping trip to Ashkelon this weekend. We all felt so free and good. At one point, Leora said, "Ima! Enough of your belly-laughs!" Everything strikes me funny nowadays - I'm catching up on all the laughter I missed over the years.
I didn't realize the extent to which I was always on guard, "before". Even now, anything that's connected with Seth has an edge of fear in it, for me. Leora says that when someone mentions him, or when I talk to him on the phone, I start to bite my nails.
We're getting the old house ready to sell, now that Seth has trundled his last dolly full of boxes across town. A guy came in for $1000 and took down shelves and picture hooks and curtain rods and light fixtures. Scraped all of ELioRafi's stickers off the sticker wall in the blue bathroom. He filled the cracks, and painted the walls and woodwork plain white – returning the house to how it was when we moved in.
It took three days to remove all evidence of fifteen years of living.
Eli called me at work yesterday and suggested that we paint the downstairs bathroom terracotta. We went out later and bought paint, and when I got home today the ceiling was white and the walls were a warm cheerful terra-cotta. He’s right – we have enough boring off-white in the house. He also put terra cotta swirls on the wall in the entry-way – some layered 3-D effect he saw demonstrated on TV – and he put a terracotta border around the edge of the bathroom ceiling.
Every time I went into that bathroom - to use it or just to bask in the peachy glow – I found myself staring at that orange-bordered ceiling and for some inexplicable reason – I felt like writing on it with a marker. That ceiling is low enough to reach, because the storage area is above it.
Suddenly, I realized that the orange border has been reminding me of the orange-edged pages of the autograph book I had in junior high.
“How about …” I suggested as we gathered in Leora’s room for our unofficial end-of-the-day gathering, “… if we use that bathroom ceiling as our guest book. Everyone who visits us can grafitti their names up there.”
We all trooped down and stood in the bathroom staring up at the ceiling.
“We can always just paint over the writing if we get tired of it.”
“Me first!” Leora ran up to get a marker from her room.
“Ima,” Rafi noted as we surveyed our signatures, a few minutes later, “If you really do have that house warming party, the guests can sign the ceiling!”
“Good idea. Wow. Now I’ll have to have that party.”
So we had our party. Ostensibly for my birthday and housewarming, but the banners should really have said, “Free at last!” The house was full of people and chatter. ELioRafi made me a cake shaped like a house. And now we have a decorated bathroom ceiling.
Oh, of course. I was wondering at work today why my neck is stiff.
People signed in all different colors and styles. Some just wrote their names. Some drew a little picture or logo. We’ve got smiley faces and hippos and rainbows and sunshines. Nora wrote, “If I were taller I would write more.”
I have always felt fortunate to have a US passport. I don't need to arrange for a visa to travel to most places in the world.
Since the divorce, though, I can't leave Israel with the children until I have arranged for a temporary cancellation of the restraining order. This involves having Seth sign a release form, and then going to the family courthouse in Tel Aviv to fill out forms and submit them. It takes most of a day. Then, to make sure that the border police has gotten the cancellation order from the courts, I fax a scan of our passports and call repeatedly to find out whether everything has gone through.
This trip has been work all the hassle, though. We have visited Seth's parents and my high school friend Jane, and we'll visit Jeanie and then my parents and Kay. Paul will fly to Ohio for a weekend at some point. This rented sub-compact doesn't have the feel of riding high in our old White Elephant van, but it's nice to be on the road.
Now we're visiting Seth's brother Roger's family.
ELioRafi were happy to get reacquainted with their cousins – dinner conversation was a pretty sophisticated discussion of Harry Potter – Dana is loaning us her copy of Goblet of Fire so we’ll have two copies for the four of us to squabble over instead of just the one we bought.
When the children were all watching a movie in the den, Becky and I looked at each other and laughed. “So, you did it!” Becky smiled.
“Yup … I did! I still can’t believe it. This new life still seems so new and wonderful, but at the same time, the old life seems so long ago and far away, after half a year.”
“I … I defended you to Seth’s mom, by the way …” Becky told me.
“Ah. Thanks. Maybe that’s why she has been so understanding. Even having me stay with them.”
“But … really! It’s obvious that you and the children had to get the appliances! It’s only right! From a financial standpoint, obviously, he should be the one to buy new things. And, it would have been so much harder for the four of you to manage without the essentials until you could buy new ones. But she mentions at every opportunity how you took everything and left ‘poor Seth’ with an empty house …”
“Becky! She … But we … But he …” I flapped my jaw.
“What?” Leora asked as she came in with her empty Dr. Pepper glass. “Who said we took everything?”
“Well, Grandma got the idea …”
“Ima! No! No fair! First he goes and takes everything for himself, and then … Oof! He tries to make people feel sorry for him? He should decide what he wants. If he wants people to feel sorry for him he should have given us more stuff. Then he wouldn’t have to lie. Yeah, I know you’re going to say he probably didn’t exactly lie, but you know how he does it. He says things … sort of hinting … and you’re not expecting him to be lying, so you go by what it sounds like he’s saying. Aunt Becky? Can I have a pen and a piece of paper? Thanks. Here, look. Here’s who got what.”
Too bad Leora didn’t have her law degree yet, when I needed a lawyer!
I was out back hanging laundry when Leora and Rafi got home from their trip up north with Seth, his girlfriend Mira, and her son Yossi.
“Hey! You’re back! How was it?”
“Good!” Leora exclaimed, “It was fun. Mira’s really nice. We went ice skating … but Ima! Abba threw Yossi!”
“Threw him? While you were skating?”
“No! Back at the room! You know how he does to us – grabs our arm and sends us slamming across the room. He did that to Yossi!”
“He did?” I looked at Rafi for confirmation.
Rafi nodded, wide eyed. “Ima, I don’t think Yossi's father, you know, gets mad like that. Yossi doesn’t know how to be careful around Abba like we do.”
“Abba told us to bring our duffels out to the car,” Leora explained, “but Yossi left his in the room. So Abba, you know, told him, you know, through his teeth, to Bring! That! Bag! Out! Now!”
Leora put her hand on her chest. “Ima, it was so scary!” My own heart was pounding just imagining Seth losing his temper.
“I think Yossi thought Abba was pretending to be angry,” Rafi explained. “He probably never saw a grown-up act that way in real life.”
“What did Mira do?” I wondered.
“Well,” Leora considered, “I think she was surprised. She had a look on her face like, maybe this guy isn’t as nice as he pretends to be. I think it’s good if she finally saw him how he really is.
“Ima?” Rafi asked, “Should I tell Yossi to be careful around Abba? Should I tell him he has to be sure not to make Abba angry?”
“Well … don’t tell him too much …” I warned.
“Ima’s right, Rafi. Abba will just get mad at you if he finds out you blabbed,” Leora warned.
Leora and Rafi went in to take showers and I finished hanging the laundry.
“Ima?” Leora said, when I went up to kiss her, “I don’t think Mira will stay with him, now. No woman in her right mind would stay with a man who hurts her children!”
“You’ve got that right!” I muttered sarcastically.
“Oh! Ima! I didn’t mean you! That was different!
“You know, Ima, I really used to think it was OK – what Abba did to us – because we were his own children. Now that we live here, I can’t even imagine that I used to think that was normal.”
Hi, Kay!
How are all of you – fully back in the swing of school, I guess.
ELioRafi have vacation for the week of Succoth. Eli spent his time building a beautiful computer table with cupboards and bookshelves. He put up curtain rods and painted the upstairs bathroom and put up a lizard-shaped toilet paper holder and towel hook. Fixed the doorbell. He's nice to have around.
Seth took Leora and Rafi on a trip to the Golan Heights with his girlfriend Mira and her 11 year old son. (Eli would love to have gone, but he wasn’t invited because there were only five places in the car.)
Leora said Mira is very nice. I was hoping she would be a horrible person who deserves Seth, so I wouldn't have to worry about her.
I need to digest something that Leora and Rafi told me about when they got back. They said that Seth got angry at Yossi and threw him across the room.
I really surprised myself. I didn't even see this incident, and it's not even my child, and I've hardly seen Seth for nearly a year, and yet, all the feelings came right back, from when he used to do things like that to Eli, Leora and Rafi. Right now, thinking about it, I see my hands shaking as I type. The fear. Leora said she was scared.
So - now what? Do I need to warn Mira?
If Mira doesn't make it clear, right now, that she won’t accept his treatment, I'm afraid that she and Yossi are in for the same things we went through.
Well, she still has time to find out what he’s really like. Maybe it’s none of my business.
But do I need to worry about ELioRafi? Apparently the constraints that I imposed on his behavior while I was threatening divorce, no longer hold. If he can't even control himself over a minor disobedience from another woman's child, when she is right there – a woman that he presumably wants to impress - is there any chance that he will be able to control himself if my children are alone with him, and he gets angry at them? Seth lives on the 9th floor, and there's a balcony with just a railing around it. Am I crazy to imagine him getting mad at one of them, and the child running out onto the balcony to get away from him, and falling or getting pushed off?
What should I do?
Talk to Seth? That's the last thing I want to do, and it would only make things worse. (That's exactly what I said for 24 years, isn't it.)
Talk to Mira? But that doesn't solve the problem of how Seth could treat my children.
I know that if he gets into another depression, I will have to make sure the children are never alone with him. But this was a trip when everything should have been fine. And yet he lost control like that.
I had assumed that Yossi would be safer with Seth than my children are, but how many times, in cases of child abuse, do you hear the phrase, "... his mother's boyfriend".
Is there a web site where you can arrange for your ex to be abducted by aliens and taken off to their home planet?
Do you have any insights? Love, Shlomit
Hi Kay, thanks for the feedback.
Seth’s Uncle Henry also advised me not to approach Mira, because then if they break up, I could be blamed and the children would be in danger from the backlash. Seth's cousin Joanie knows Mira, and had already realized that she might need to warn her at some point. So there is a safety system here.
It surprises me, though, that Mira’s presence don't enable Seth to control himself.
I feel so sorry for Mira. I know she must be torn. Here is this available man with money and education. I could catalog the hundreds of excuses you make for someone when you're trying to justify staying with them.
He's a good boyfriend. He used to write me poems and give me presents. As long as he needs something from you, he can be nice.
Love, Shomit
Seth -
I signed the forms to lift the restraining order on the children so you can take them to Kenya at Hanukkah.
I don't need to tell you that I do so with misgivings. I am agreeing to let them go with you on this trip - not because I am confident that they are in no danger from you. But because in weighing the possible danger to them, against the good experience such a trip will be for them, and the fact that they want to go, I decided, reluctantly, to give you the benefit of the doubt and let them go.
As you know, other times that I have trusted you, they have wound up getting hurt.
I ... ask you? Beg you? To do whatever you can to keep your cool for the week that they are with you. No matter what they do or say, or how you feel.
Africa is far away. The children will be in a strange place where they don't know how to get help for themselves. They will be totally dependent on you.
If they come back and say that you lost control, I will need to reconsider things.
Shlomit
Thanks for signing the forms. I'll pass on a brochure of the trip to you. As you'll see, we are going to a resort area. While we are going to a strange place, this is a low-key trip.
I have already gotten advice from Batia, which I put into action.
Seth
As the boys left to go eat pizza at Seth’s, Leora reminded them to bring her her allowance. “This is the first month after it was raised!” she said excitedly.
I had been amazed that she had convinced Seth to more than double their allowances, based on research she had done into the amounts her friends were getting, and what they were expected to use their money for.
As soon as the boys got home, she pounced on Eli: “Did you bring my allowance?”
“Uh.. no… Abba said you have to visit him in order to get it.”
“What? I have to go all the way over there just to get it?”
“No, I think he means that you won’t get last month’s allowance at all. Because you weren’t over there at all, last month.”
“No, Eli,” I interrupted, “He couldn’t have meant that. It’s her allowance. It’s not supposed to depend on … anything. Certainly not something like whether she visits him.”
But I was wrong. Leora called Seth and that’s exactly what he had meant. Anyone who doesn’t visit him for an entire month pays a 150 shekel fine for the error.
I offered to pay Leora her allowance for last month, but she said that the actual money is beside the point.
The children use a phrase, ‘Ani beHelem’ – I’m in shock. I just got a surprising phone call from Bruce:
“Hi, Shlomit, it’s Bruce. I just called to say I’m sorry about last night.”
Last night? Last night was fun. We spent the evening with an Irish friend of his who plays fiddle. The two of them traded music and techniques and insights. Bruce is trying to get his Irish fiddling to be more authentic.
“I realize that I wasn’t very attentive,” he explained. “It must not have been pleasant for you to just tag along.”
“No! Bruce, last night was so much fun!”
“Oh, good. I’m glad. I just didn’t want to let Shabbat go by without apologizing.”
We talked some more, and then we had to hang up to get ready for Shabbat.
I just sat staring straight ahead for a few minutes after I hung up the phone. Wow. Wow. Is this normal human behavior? I guess so.
Wow. Ani beHelem!
As I get the children ready for this trip to Kenya - as I shop for their malaria pills and long sleeved shirts and sun block, and take them for their yellow fever shots - I realize that before I send them off with Seth, I need to take additional measures to protect them. Not only from the mosquitoes and the blazing sun and the microbes, but from Seth if he gets stressed.
It will probably be OK. But if something happens, this decision to let them go will be like the scene in a movie where they zoom in on the ashtray next to the Christmas tree and you know that the house will burn down. They zoom in on the parachute getting ripped as it's being packed, and you know that the pilot will have to bail out.
When you read in the paper about a violent father who finally does something that results in tragedy, you say, "How could she have trusted him after everything he has done!!!"
But I have a resource, don't I. Batia. Seth has said a dozen times that I can just consult Batia if I am worried about him. She knows him and understands him.
Seth still hasn’t reimbursed me for his sessions with her, so the understanding that she has gained belongs partly to me, right?
==============
"Hi, Batia, this is Shlomit. How are you?"
"Wow! Shlomit! It's nice to hear from you! What can I do for you!" she purred.
“Well, maybe you know that Seth will be taking the children to Kenya for Hanukkah vacation. I’m calling to ask if you could suggest some things the children could do to keep him calm while they're with him …"
"What kind of things, Shlomit?"
"Well ... Something they could do or say if he gets into a rage. If his flash temper seems to be about to go off.”
"I’m puzzled, Shlomit! Where is this ... fear is coming from! Why you think the children might be in danger from Seth?"
Huh? "Well, I'm not even so worried about little things, Batia. If he just yells or insults them ... that kind of thing can’t harm them now as it could when they had a steady diet of it. Even if he charges at them or does his grip and sling thing ..."
"Shlomit! You paint such a violent picture of Seth!!!"
OK. There's my answer to whether Seth discussed 'losing it' with Mira's son a month ago. He's still gaslighting the shrink.
I was ranting by now - well aware that my office mates were listening in.
"Batia! You know Seth so much better than I do. You understand him. If you have discovered why he explodes, it does no good to keep it to yourself."
"Oh!" Batia giggled, "How could I know Seth better than you do? I suggest that you let Seth and the children work it out. Your three children know exactly how to upset Seth. If they would behave themselves, and not always be trying to yank his chain, things would go much more smoothly.”
These $3600 were just thrown out the window. He never discussed any of it with her, did he?
I had called Rafi to come to the phone, and while we waited, Seth said, “So the kids had a good time in Kenya. Did they tell you that our bus was charged by an elephant?”
“Yes … and I heard that Rafi also got charged at.”
“What do you mean?”
“He had locked the key in the room or something and you … charged at him.”
“I didn’t touch him.”
“No, but when you charge at them you’re plainly letting them know that you could hurt them if you were pushed just a little farther. Well, here’s Rafi …”
Guilty as charged.
Last night Leora told me that Seth bought Mira a big heavy necklace with three colors of gold, for Hanukkah.
"That's encouraging," I told Leora, "It sounds as though he is intending to have a more normal relationship with her than he did with us."
"I think it's to say he's sorry for what he did to Yossi."
"OK, still. It would be the first time he felt like apologizing for his behavior."
I laughed. Leora asked why.
"Oh - I was just thinking - if I had a heavy gold necklace for each time Abba was mean to one of you, we would be living on easy street. And I wouldn't be able to stand up straight."
"But don't you see, Ima! He's just going to spend all his money on Mira, now. All the money the boys and I should inherit. He says he's going to take her to Rhodes."
"Yeah, honey, I know how you feel. But he's free to ..."
"After how we lived all those years, Ima! No decent food and no normal clothes or anything! And now he just goes and gives it all to Mira! He never gave you jewelry.” She paused to think. “Did he ever give you a present, Ima?"
"That perfume last year ... and ... the tumblers."
"What's a tumbler?" Leora wrinkled her nose.
"I mean the drinking glasses. For Hanukkah in ... when we were first married he gave me eight of them. You know - for the eight days of Hanukkah."
"We didn't even get the glass glasses, though, Ima. He kept them. And he never even let you WEAR jewelry! He's not only letting her wear it - he's spending hundreds of dollars on it for her. He never even gave you an engagement ring."
"Well, I told him that I would rather save the money."
"You saved money, all right, so he could spend it on somebody else! It's unfair anyway that you let him have half of the money when there are four of us and only one of him, and when we were the ones who couldn't buy anything all the years. He never scrimped on himself. And you let him have all the stuff from the house ..."
"Leora, he pays half of your expenses. And - I got you guys! You’re worth more than money any day! He got what he values most, and I got what I value most."
"But don't you see, Ima! It's worth it for you, maybe, because you got us, but it isn't worth it for us! We have to be careful with money and watch him just spend it like crazy! Oof! Forget it!” she flounced off.
Why do I get a jolt of happiness and relief when I think of Seth giving Mira a nice gift? I guess I feel safer when I can believe that Seth is normal.
It's still important, for my children's safety, that Seth stay on an even keel. I'm hoping that Mira will help with that. The more normal their relationship, the more likely they will live in harmony, and the more likely he will stay happy. Normal gift giving is one normal thing. Good for Seth, if he finally realizes it.
Sigh. Even more than I missed getting gifts from Seth, I missed giving to him. There was never any way I could give him anything, or do anything especially nice for him. If I did what he commanded me to do, I was only performing to spec. if I did anything additional, he reminded me, “I never said you could do that!”
OK. Another bubble popped.
I keep discovering A) that some of the things I had been dreading are nonexistent, and B) that I’m not the only one who has been bending over backward to accommodate Seth.
Two weeks ago, when I called Rina to invite them for lunch on Shabbat, I was a bit apologetic, voicing one of the concerns I had pondered whenever I thought about Life After Seth - “I realize that for Ze’ev … well … he won’t have Seth to talk to.”
Rina laughed. “Are you kidding?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, Ze’ev and Seth never had anything at all to talk about. I think Ze’ev will be overjoyed to not have to try to keep a conversation going between them.”
Then today, at work, when I invited Veronique for lunch this Shabbat, I made the same sort of apology. Avi and Seth do have a lot in common – both being in academia and in experimental science.
“Shlomit, I wouldn’t have said anything,” Veronique made a chagrined face, “but every time you guys would visit, Avi wound up completely exhausted from trying to talk to Seth.”
“But they always talked together for an hour or more!”
“Yes, but it was never a normal back-and-forth conversation. Avi said that Seth never returned his serves. Avi would say something, and Seth would … either poo-poo it, or top it or just make some remark that didn’t leave any hooks. Nothing to attach a rejoinder to. Seth could go on and on in a monologue, describing something, but it was never what you would call a conversation. I think Avi will be very happy to visit just you and the kids!”
“Ima?” Leora asked when I got home from work yesterday, “Is Bruce your boyfriend?”
Poor Leora – is she worried that I’m going to run out and bring home a replacement for Seth?
“No – just a friend.”
“I thought so. Then you have to sign up for the Jewish dating websites.”
“I do?”
“Yes! Ima! I want you to get married right away. Well, not right away, but soon. I want to see what it’s like to live with a real mother and father who act like other people’s parents. You know, talking to each other and laughing and calling each other ‘Dear’ and everything. Find somebody with children.” She instructed. “Ima … I want to live in a house with a father who loves his children. Even if I'm not one of his real children.”
I hugged my poor daughter whose dreams are so modest.
We googled ‘Jewish dating’ and found dozens of sites. You post a photo and a description of yourself and of who you’re looking for. The children and I had a great time defining the quintessential ‘Ima’! It really is a good thing to do, isn’t it. Think about who you are in twenty five words or less, and about who you want to share your life with. Here is what we settled on:
My profile: I’m happy and healthy. Reveling in new-found freedom. Living a full life with my three wonderful children. We do carpentry, camping, hiking, biking. I see the world as a wonderful interesting place, populated with wonderful people. I’m a technical person, but I’m interested in music and psychology and everything else. I have many friends from all stages of my life. I love animals. I’m very self sufficient in dealing with day to day matters, and in keeping myself busy and happy. But I would like a chance to love someone special.
My expectations: I’m looking for a happy non-violent person. Someone who can relate to others and empathize with others. Who treats friends and family with respect and generosity. Someone who is generally in a good mood, but if he isn’t, can admit it and ask for a hug or a chat. Would never take a bad mood out on anyone else, especially on a child. Good sense of humor. Relaxed. Self confident enough not to have to run over other people.
Like a mother cat with safe healthy well-fed kittens.
Even work is better, now. I’m happier throughout the day. Everyone seems to like me better.
Work is more interesting., I can concentrate better – I’m not always running the background job of worrying.
People are shocked to learn that I have left my husband. I don’t seem like the type who would get up and say “I’m leaving!”
Where is this mourning we’re supposed to be doing?
Seth called yesterday and asked to speak with Rafi. “Wow, really? Great! … Yeah, I’ve heard of them. … Sure! … OK - I’ll go ask Eli… Of course he would! Well, you could ask him and see.”
“Eli! Abba wants to talk to you! He’s taking us to those race cars you drive yourself!”
Eli picked up the receiver. “Oh. Oh, I thought... But a kid in my class said … OK. OK, in that case, I guess not. Bye.”
“Abba is taking Rafi to a place where you drive race cars.”
“Only Rafi?”
“Abba says they’re more for younger kids.”
Rafi came back from his outing all excited about having driven the cars around a race course.
“It’s too bad – Eli would have loved it, Ima. There were plenty of kids his age there. It’s too bad Abba talked him out of going.”
Sigh.
This evening, at supper, Leora sloshed some juice out of a full glass as she moved it so that I could lower the new wok onto the table. As she came back with a sponge, she said, “Now, if this had happened at Abba’s, this is what we would be hearing right now:” she growled and hissed and pounded the table with her fist. The boys laughed and I gave her my obligatory ‘that’s not nice’ face and the conversation moved on to other topics.
It’s so nice to be away from that!
This phallic sputnik lamp has been an issue between us for the past quarter century. He bought that lamp for our first apartment in spite of – or because of - the fact that I thought it was ugly and obscene.
Over the years, I was the one who kept the darn thing dusted and polished (unable to ignore the similarity to milking a mutant cow). I was the one who chased down the little bud-shaped light bulbs that kept burning out. Every time I tried to lobby for its retirement, Seth beamed me an amused, gloaty grin and poo-pooed my attempts to convince him to give it up.
In fact, I realize now, when I thought of splitting up, and imagined Seth in a place of his own, my mental image always focused around that phallic fixture.
So … you’re on the edge of your seat for the punchline? Well, here it is, in this e-mail:
From: Seth; To Shlomit; Subject: misc.
I left the sputnik lamp in the old house. If you want it you can have it.
When religious Jews disagree over who owes money to whom, the neutral solution is to give that amount to charity. Seth and I have the perfect neutral solution for the money he took from our common account to pay Batia – to just give the money to our children, and we can call it quits.
I hate arguments. But Leora claimed recently that it was unfair to the children that I didn't ask for more of the family savings. That convinced me to ask Seth, once more, by email, for a fair resolution of at least this contested amount:
To: Seth; From: Shlomit: Subject: The $3600 you owe me
Seth,
We have been apart for a year now and you have not yet repaid me the money that you paid to Batia during the three years after we split up our assets, but were still married.
There are other personal expenses that I had assumed you were covering with your own money during that period, but because we never actually spelled out what expenses were to be paid from our separate accounts, I can't claim reimbursement for those expenses.
But you specifically told me, repeatedly, that you were paying for your visits to Batia from your own money, and that therefore, I had no right to expect that the sessions with her should be helping you with your behavior within the family.
If you disagree with my estimate of $3600, let me know what would be a better amount.
If you don't want to give me the money, then just give $1000 to each of the children, and I will consider the matter closed.
Seth, I trusted you with all of the banking for those months – and in fact for the whole marriage. I could have asked for proof that you weren't taking advantage of me. I could have taken advantage of you. But I played it straight. Until I was out of the marriage, I was in it.
Then in the one thing that I did check – your payments to Batia - I found that you were dishonest.
I know that by your 'every man for himself' theory of interpersonal relationships, you don't respect me for being gullible and trusting you. I wasn't doing it for you, but for myself. At least one half of the marriage could be based on respect and generosity.
If you are expecting Mira to be satisfied with the same kind of 'marriage' you designed for us, I suggest that you be fair to her and tell her about your philosophies ahead of time.
- Shlomit
To: Shlomit; From: Seth: Subject: Re: The $3600 you owe me
Shlomit,
After we separated, I used my own account for all of my personal purchases above those that were just a continuation of past activities. This included such things as purchase of appliances, dishes, etc.
As far as Batia is concerned, no I am not going to reimburse you. It was your idea to go to her in the first place.
I have moved on.
As far as the kids and money are concerned, they are well taken care of. At age 18 they will have control of the money in their trust funds.
- Seth
Why is he talking about what happened after we divorced? What about the three years before we split up?
And … what are the 'continuation of past activities' that he paid for out of our common account?
And ... he only paid for his own dishes after I caught him trying to use common money for them. The refrigerator, too – if I hadn’t been there when he bought it, would that just have gone onto 'our' credit card?
And … he’s ‘moving on’ with $3600 of my money in his pocket!
Oh, well. I tried.
- - - He's My Last - - -
When Rafi was a month old, we were both still in the hospital. I was finally allowed to get out of bed and walk around, so I went to visit him in the preemie ward. It was only the eighth time I had seen him, so once I had hobbled down the hall, and fed him his bottle, I just sat holding that warm little baby, as he slept. My tiny boy.
A nurse passed by and smiled at us. "You've been sitting here holding that baby for over an hour. It's obvious that he's your first."
"No," I told her, "he's even more special. He's my last."
Many of you thought my speech at Eli's Bar Mitzvah was too long, because it was the first time I had a captive audience. Well, this is my last!
If it gets boring for any of you, just allow your attention to wander freely.
- - - Wonder - - -
I'll skip to a day when Rafi was three, and the children and I went out to buy shoes. And got three helium balloons into the bargain. Eli and Leora knew to come have me tie the strings to their wrists so we would make it home without losing the balloons. Rafi wanted to know why we were doing that. Eli and Leora and I bombarded him with explanations about gravity and gasses and blimps and hot air balloons and why boats float on water and even informed him that you would talk like a duck if you had breathed in helium. "So Rafi, if you go outside and let go of the balloon by mistake, it will go up, up, up in the sky and you'll lose it," I warned.
"It will?" He looked at his balloon with wonder. "My balloon will go up in the sky? I want to see it do that!"
"No!" the rest of us cried. "No! You'll lose your balloon!"
We got home, still in possession of three intact balloons. Once we were safely in the house, I untied the strings and Eli and Leora started doing all sorts of interesting experiments with their balloons. Then, I heard Leora shriek, "No! Rafi!"
I rushed out from the kitchen to see Rafi heading out the front door with his balloon in his hands.
Just as I caught up to him, he released the balloon and was watching it rise. With a look of pure rapture on his face. As Leora started to ask him how he could do such a thing, I stopped her. "Leora, look. I think Rafi has gotten as much pleasure from his helium balloon as anyone ever has." Eli joined us and the four of us watched that little green speck disappear among the clouds. A much more graceful ending for a helium balloon than their usual fate - either to pop or to just get slowly wrinkled and earth-bound.
- - - Absent Minded Professor - - -
Rafi has always been my little absent-minded professor. He's in tune with that vast world beyond what we can see and hear.
I'll admit that there are times when it is hard for me to keep my perspective. Ten minutes before Shabbat when I'm frantic with last minute rush, and Rafi drifts over to ask why we can't see the insides of our eyelids, or if I know what planet I would like to live on.
- - - Children of Israel - - -
When you read Rafi's Bar Mitzvah bible portion, Schlach, you realize that the Israelites needed a few people like Rafi at that point, to help them put things into perspective.
Here are the Children of Israel, ready to enter the promised land after a year of traveling through the desert. They have just witnessed the wonders and miracles with which Hashem brought us out of Egypt. They were being led by the greatest prophet before or since, who was in personal communication with the creator of the universe. You would think they would be caught up in the wonder of it all. But, no. They worried more about their safety and comfort, just as we would today.
So when Hashem told them to go up into the promised land, they couldn't just trust him. They had to be practical. They had to be sure. They wanted to know exactly what they would be encountering. They sent scouts to check it out. Hashem was displeased by this lack of faith and sent the Children of Israel to wander for thirty nine more years.
- - - Trusting Hashem - - -
Like the Children of Israel, contemplating the unknown land Hashem had given them, and the unknown battles to be fought before they could settle down into their new lives as free people in their own land, we often find ourselves hesitating to take a needed step. Even when the alternative is to wander homeless for decades in an uncomfortable, frightening wilderness. Where they couldn't really settle down, because they never knew how long a settled period would be, before that cloud would rise again.
The wilderness was a known entity. They had learned to deal with its dangers and discomforts. Would they be strong enough to stand up to their opponents if they just marched forward as Hashem wanted them to?
We fool ourselves into thinking that Hashem will be more likely to protect us if we let 'fate' make our decisions for us. That he will protect us from the fallout of our non-decisions more readily than from the consequences of our actions.
- - - Messages - - -
But how can we know what Hashem wants us to do?
G!d has myriad ways of communicating with us, even though we don't have Moshe to lead us, or scouts to go ahead and tell us whether the results of our actions will be OK.
When I see the reassuring little message on my computer screen promising me that it is now safe to turn off my computer, I find myself wishing I had little message boxes popping up before each thing I propose to do in life. "It is now safe to make this investment ... to quit this job ... to go on this camping trip ... to merge onto this highway ... to buy this house ... to make aliyah ... to leave this relationship ... to decide against earthquake insurance."
We don't have any guarantees to tell us what is safe. But we can get reality checks from prayer, from the wisdom of trusted friends who will be there to support us, from our conscience.
And sometimes, like Nachshon, we must just step into that water, even though we have no idea how we will get to the other side.
- - - Archetypes - - -
From Rafi, I have learned to be more in tune with the world of wonder. With the real world of feelings and archetypal experiences. With life as it is experienced by the right side of our brain.
In this high-tech era, we tend to get confused as to what is real life, and what is the window dressing. We think that the things we can see and touch and buy and use - are 'real'. The other stuff is just an also-ran - the touchy-feely stuff. Our relationships. The undercurrents.
But it's these undercurrents that are universal. What do I have in common with a woman who might have been watching the spies trudge out of the Israelite camp, off to scout out the land? My house is very different from her tent. Even my tent is hi tech! My clothes are different from hers. Our neighborhood bears little resemblance to the Sinai desert.
But when I held my tiny baby, there in the hospital, I was feeling exactly what she felt, the first time she held his great, great, great, great grandfather. When I step out into a fragrant spring day, that zing of joy in my chest is just what she felt. When I survey my pay stub with satisfaction, it's only a pale imitation of the satisfaction she felt surveying her flocks or her little garden plot.
When I gave Rafi his scooter, that act was the same, in all but the most superficial ways, as that Israelite woman giving her son his first donkey. Or as my great great granddaughter giving Rafi's great great grandson his first jet-pack so he can fly to school.
When we are told to sanctify time and not space, we are being told to concentrate on the eternal aspects of life - not on the superficial.
We must stop living for the things that are window dressing.
- - - Rafi - - -
Most of us know that Rafi has many wonderful midot and abilities.
A talent I see in Rafi that might well be the most important a person can have, is his ability to keep himself cheerful. And through the legitimate ways - of doing his best, being on good terms with those around him, and concentrating on all the wonderful aspects of life. If the only way you can stay happy is to ignore the times when you hurt others, that's not legitimate. The ability to stay out of the dumps is invaluable - for your own sake and for those around you.
In fact, in the management of our moods, we do seem to ignore the nuts-and-bolts here-and-now world and concentrate on the world of vibes and nuances. A grumpy person is often ignoring a life full of blessings, and is angry and disappointed over things the rest of us can't see. A cheerful person can get joy from mushy stuff like friends and sunsets and song, even if bad things are going on in his or her life.
We tend to be proud of our native abilities, but to quote one of my favorite philosophers, Albus Dumbledore, "It is our choices, Harry, that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities"
It's not what you've got - it's what you do with it. We get mitzvah points for taking responsibility, not for being lucky.
- - - "Earth to Rafi" - - -
A couple of months ago, I went to talk with Rafi's teacher. She said, "Rafi is - well, he's - not connected to the earth."
I think she was surprised to see me grin with pleasure where she had expected a frown of concern.
She couldn't have known that I was thinking of one of my favorite quotes, from the book Phantom Tollbooth.
The book is a kind of Odessy. The boy, Milo, travels to many strange societies, and each one shakes up his way of thinking about life.
At one point he meets another little boy who seems to be walking a foot up in the air. The boy, Alec, explains.
"... in my family, everyone is born in the air, with his head at exactly the height it's going to be when he's an adult, and then we all grow toward the ground. When we're fully grown up, or, as you can see, grown down, our feet finally touch. Of course, there are a few of us whose feet never reach the ground no matter how old we get, but I suppose it's the same in every family."
A brilliant demonstration of what the maturation process, unfortunately, does to most of us. Just roots us to the ground. Alec also points out that this way a person sees everything from the same vantage-point throughout his life and never has to change his point of view.
Milo asks, "Does everyone here grow the way you do?"
"Almost everyone," replied Alec, and then he stopped a moment and thought. "Now and then, though, someone does begin to grow differently. Instead of down, his feet grow up toward the sky."
"What happens to them?" insisted Milo.
"Oddly enough, they often grow ten times the size of everyone else," said Alec thoughtfully, "and I've heard that they walk among the stars."
- - - Wishes - - -
So, Rafi, my wishes for you, as you become bar mitzvah, are that you'll never lose your sense of wonder about the world. That you won't get too distracted by the window dressing, except to keep hold of enough practicality to make things go smoothly. That you'll make your life and the lives of those around you the best it can be. That you'll trust that Hashem will take care of you if you are really doing your best.
And other than that, Rafi, just keep walking among those stars!
Over the years, I have seen any number of attempts to define happiness. Well, Ruthi has provided me with an operational definition, on my bathroom ceiling.
Ruthi visited last weekend. I asked her to sign our ceiling, but didn’t notice her blessing till just now, after she left:
“May you always be as happy as you are today”
When I read it, I smiled and thought, “Yes! Oh, yes! From … my ceiling … to Hashem’s ears.”
What a perfect definition of happiness. A condition in which you hope that all your days are exactly as good as today.
Was there ever a time, during my marriage, when I would have thanked someone who wished that on me – that the rest of my life would be no better than what I was living through?
When I came home after a happy, noisy Rosh Hashanah dinner with Nora’s extended family, I was surprised to find the door unlocked. The dogs didn’t greet me with the frenzy of having been alone for four hours. The house was dim and dingy – I had only left the table lamp on, because I would be at Nora’s and the children would be with Seth.
“Hello?” I called tentatively. Leora’s head appeared as she sat up on the sofa. “What are you doing here, Leora?” She looked miserable.
“I came home. Your sons! Your sons apparently worry more about missing dinner than they do about their own sister and about doing what’s right.”
“What? You didn’t eat? How long have you been …”
“I would rather eat peanut butter at home than sit at his table after he exploded at me. At all of us.” The sandwich, there on the end table, had only a few nibbles taken out of it.
“Oh, Honey, I’m sorry I would have come home earlier. You should have come to Nora’s. What … what happened?”
“Remember, I took the iron along so I could iron my skirt? So I asked Abba for a towel to iron on. He said, “Take one from the bathroom!” Angry. You know. Through his teeth. With that …” she made a Seth face … “You know. So I went into the bathroom to look for where he keeps his towels, but I didn’t see any clean towels. So I went back and asked him ‘where in the bathroom?’ He was at the computer. Doing his stocks or something. Whatever he does all the time on the internet.”
Ah. Of course. Today was the first day that the stock market was open, after the Twin Towers collapsed. Seth must have been frantic. He had only between nine AM in New York and sundown here to salvage whatever he could from his portfolio. I know he is heavily into high tech stocks. No wonder he didn’t want to be interrupted any earlier than he had to be. In fact … I suspect that if the children hadn’t been there he would have just sat there unloading, right into Rosh Hashanah. So he was probably blaming them for everything.
Seth had been cheerfully investing his 'allowance' money while I was spending mine on my own purchases, and keeping the rest liquid for when we had to leave him.
When the divorce required that he start apartment hunting, he complained, “This isn’t a good time.”
Well, if he had been investing in the family with half the enthusiasm as he invested in NASDAQ, he wouldn’t have been looking for an apartment.
“So, Abba growled his growl,” Leora continued, “and jumped up from his chair and grabbed a towel from the towel bar in the bathroom and threw it at me and sat back down. “But this is just your used towel! Can’t I have a clean towel?” I asked him. He said, “No, for your information, you can’t. What you can do is to leave me alone.’
“So, Ima, it was just so yuckie. It was still damp from his shower. I had to iron somebody else’s skin cells into my skirt.
“So, anyway, I wasn’t quite finished by the time Abba had to leave for Shul, so Abba went on ahead. The boys said they would wait for me, because I didn’t have the key to his apartment, to lock the door.
Ima, we started talking – the three of us. About all sorts of things. Really deep things. How we feel about things and what we want to do with our lives, and the meaning of life and … Ima, I’ve never had such a talk. Even Rafi. He has all sorts of ideas you wouldn’t expect from a little kid. I just felt so close to my brothers and everything seemed so different.
“We talked about the Twin Towers and about dying suddenly and about good people and about being a blessing to the world. Remember, when I said I hate studying philosophy, and you said that in the end, that’s all there really is. Like in your speech for Rafi’s Bar Mitzvah. The things we think are ‘real’ aren’t the important things.
“The three of us just sat there really really talking. About our philosophy. We … well, we lost track of time. We kept saying we should go, but then we each had just one more thing we wanted to say, and I didn’t want it to end, and I think the boys felt like that, too. So finally, we realized that it was too late to go. Like we would just get there and it would be time to come back. So we just kept talking, and it felt so good!
“And it was really like the spirit of Rosh Hashanah. Of a new year starting. It was the best start there could be to a new year. More meaningful than just saying the same prayers in Shul that we say every year.
“I really had this feeling that my brothers are really my brothers. I felt the connection. Because who else knows me like they do, Ima? Who knows you well enough that you don’t feel silly telling them what you really feel? I know why you think your siblings are so special. You’re right - it’s so nice to have siblings.”
“Leora,” I smiled, “one time when you were about five – you came to me and said it was so funny between you and Eli – that sometimes he fights with you, and the next minute he’ll say something like, “Oh! Leora! Be careful!” if he thinks you might hurt yourself. That was so perceptive, because that’s what a sibling relationship is like.”
“And then,” Leora’s eyes narrowed, “Abba got home. He burst in, slamming the door open so hard it smacked the wall twice. He didn’t even say, ‘Hi,’ or ‘Shana Tova’ or anything. OK, that’s nothing new, but he just started yelling. Screaming. Everything awful he could think of to say. He didn’t even give us a chance to explain that we had been talking. So I left. How could I stand to be in the same room with him after he just told me how much he hates us. I thought the boys would follow – we had just shared our real selves with each other. Well, Eli did follow me into the stairs, but just to give me his house key for this house. He said someone has to stay. That they couldn’t all leave. But I know he was also thinking what would he eat for dinner if he came with me.”
I hugged her.
“Now I’m going to have an awful year,” she murmured.
“Oh, no, Leora, he was just …”
“No, Ima. That’s what they say. That’s why you wish everyone a happy Rosh Hashanah and you try to have good food and you want everyone to be with company and family – nobody should be alone …” her voice broke, “Because however your Rosh Hashanah is, that’s how your year will be. Well –“ she indicated the dim room, “this is how my year will be, I guess. Being told by my own father that I’m worthless, and then eating alone.”
We took Sheba and Flie for a walk, and as we sat on the wall to wait for them, Leora said, “Ima? You know, even if Abba had let us explain about the conversation we had been having – he wouldn’t have understood. I’ll bet Abba never had any kind of conversation with his brothers. Or with you. Or with anyone.”
Poor nearsighted Seth.
Standing in the checkout line at the supermarket today, I overheard a couple behind me – recent immigrants from America – discussing “Israelis”. Too casual. Too impolite. Too loud. Butting in to other people's business. No dress sense.
I looked around at the two dozen families standing in line. Lounging in line. Leaning, talking – within their families or to the people in the next line whom they don’t even know. Looking so … at home. That’s what’s familiar about the comfortable way we are all waiting here. The four of us are also super relaxed.
How can I describe it? In the US, when you're out in public, there's a sense that you're out in public. We Israelis are just ourselves. We're at home even when we're not at home.
The Jewish people have survived bad situations and are now reveling in being in a safe home. Just as ELioRafi and I are.
Ten years ago, there was a day when Seth was in a good mood. He phoned me from work just to say hi, he helped Leora with homework, and played with the boys. He accepted a suggestion I made, and complimented me on something I had done. And was pleasant the whole time. I was so happy to see this usually-eclipsed side of my husband that I wrote down every detail of that day to preserve it. And then printed it up so I could carry it around with me in my backpack. So that on days when he was particularly bad, and I felt particularly hopeless, I could take it out and read it to give myself hope that he might someday get himself together.
Wow. I must have used that phrase hundreds of times over the decades we were married. But I never realized till I typed it just now, how apt it is. To pull the Good Seth and the Bad Seth together so he could figure out who he is, and so we could know who we're dealing with at any given moment.
It's been nearly two years, now, since we left him. We left because ... that good day was just a flash in the pan, wasn't it. And now ... we've had seven hundred 'good days' in a row. And I rejoice every minute of every one of them.
I woke up this morning with such joy in my heart, that I decided to sit down and capture yesterday, a typical day post-divorce. I'll print this up and carry this with me, instead of the other one. Something to take out and read in the future, when the children are grown and gone and the house is no longer the bright warm lively home it is now.
Imagine - if I had had the wisdom to turn Seth down, when I first proposed divorce, when he pleaded for time to 'fix his problems'. (Or if he had actually tried to do it.) We would be looking back on half a decade of good days. And the bad ones would have faded from our memories by now.
Actually what I awoke to, this morning, was the lingering smell of last night's potato pancakes. It's the last day of Hanukkah.
Yesterday, on my ride home from work, I stopped at the bakery and bought half a dozen big fat Hanukkah jelly donuts. The children were coming back from a week of skiing in Italy with Seth, and Leora had been worried that she wouldn't have gotten her fill of sufganiot this year. After that I stopped at the post office where there was a package waiting. Each time I rode over a bump, a puff of warm Hanykkah-smelling bakery air came up from the bag dangling from my handlebars. The package was a big box of Swiss chocolates from Uncle Henry.
I got home to the ego trip of being greeted by four dogs. Our two and two of the neighbor's who would be returning from Eilat that day. A wiggling, whimpering mass.
Walking them was a slow business with the four dogs going every which way and wrapping me in their leashes.
There was a knock on the door just after we got back, and it was the neighbor girls, come to get the dogs. I showed the girls the origami cubes I had learned to make from folded note squares.
When the girls left, I ran to the store to buy sour cream and applesauce for the potato pancakes.
Wondering about the kids' ETA, I called Eli's phone and got the voice mail, then called Leora's and she said they're almost home. It has been so nice for them to have the new cell phones. I called them several times while they were in Italy.
Sure enough - a couple of minutes later Mira's car pulled up out front and they dragged their duffels from the trunk. I got a big hug from Rafi. He has grown in the week, I swear.
The house was transformed from its neat and tidy state - with a lone adult rattling around - to a total balagan, ringing with voices, the floor studded with duffels and backpacks.
They all talked at once. We lit Hanukkah candles - Leora had called me from the airport in Milano to ask me not to light until they got home.
The kids appreciated the welcome home signs on the front door, in computer-translated Italian. They gave me a fragile glass goblet with a blown glass pear inside, a bag of pasta, a big white Toblerone bar. They chatted about their trip as we ate the latkes.
Eli’s friend called and they talked for awhile, comparing vacation notes.
Leora’s friend came over and she and Leora went up to talk in Leora's room. I joined them for awhile.
We started a second wash. After Leora’s friend went home, the four of us sat awhile in Leora's room and chatted as we often do at the end of the day. I told about the hootenanny with Jessica and Yehuda, brunch on Friday with Joanie's family, lunch on Shabbat with Nora's. Dinner Friday night with Gipsey's. Candle lighting with Nora’s, the first night. Choir practice. The antics of the dogs.
I had had cable fixed while they were away, but hadn't painted the trellises. My phone had fixed itself. The fish in the pond were still alive.
Rafi and I talked while I hung up the laundry and then we walked the two resident dogs together. It's a good chance to talk at the end of the day - just the two of us. He is so mature and insightful. We discussed whether the children would go to Seth's wedding, even though it's on Lag B'omer - bonfire night. Rafi said it wasn't very nice of Abba to plan his wedding on the kids' favorite holiday.
The children went to bed after enough hugs and kisses to make up for their week away. I washed dishes as the TV station played Hatikvah at midnight.
I went around the quiet house watering the plants. Picking up and straightening this and that. Smiling. I get such peace from walking around my house. Tending my house. I feel so ... womanly. Every corner is so pleasing to the eye. Interesting, pretty, light. Every corner reflects us. It couldn't be anyone's house but ours. My life now is soft and yielding, with rounded corners, whereas my life before was harsh and hard and pointy and dangerous. I was on my guard - even in my sleep. All those years with Seth I was striving. Now I have arrived. I'm home.
I worry that things are too perfect. Maybe the children and I all died in a car crash the day we moved out of the other house, and this is heaven for me? This is heaven for me. Surrounded by people I love, and having everything I need. What more did Seth need from life, I wonder, that he was always fighting to get it?
They speak of quality of life; there's quality of light, too. In the other house, there were never enough fixtures and never enough wattage in the ones there were. The last couple of years he had those long life bulbs that give off such a cold misty light. That house was always dim and sad. Bad Chi. Well, in this house, when we want it to be bright and well lighted for our activities, we flood the place with the halogens. But when we want it to be mellow - for my last patrol of the evening, or when we're leaving on lights for someone to come home to - we just put on the table lamps and the wall sconces Eli put up. And it's muted and warm and mellow and homey. Like candle light. When I told Seth there was something wrong with the quality of the light in that house, he informed me that light has only frequency and amplitude. I'm sure that there's something else that we sense, too, though, that maybe the physicists haven't discovered yet.
For nearly five years, Seth and I discussed 'shalom bayit'. Peace in the home. We signed a legal document that defined what constitutes a peaceful home. I wrote up pages and pages that define what I mean by it. We talked and we jostled around trying to achieve something that would satisfy both of us. But - it's so easy, now! We have a happy peaceful home, effortlessly. Nobody has to define what we want. We just have four people wanting to live happily together. Treating each other with generosity and respect that comes naturally because we love each other.
Would it ever succeed - what we tried to do? If you try to come up with a legal definition of how two people should be living together so that one of them isn't constantly trampling the other's rights, can it ever turn into true Shalom Bayit? Can peace come from the brain if the desire for it isn't in the heart?
On our dog walk, I asked Rafi whether he thought that Seth was marrying a woman with a son his age so that he could convince Rafi to live with them. Rafi said he wouldn't want to live with Abba. He remembers how life was 'in the old house'. We didn't have any friends over and there was never anything new or interesting. We didn't feel happy.
I said that maybe with Mira there, it would be better. Rafi said that Mira is just like me. She’ll do everything Seth wants, just to keep him from getting mad. So their life will be just the same. I had hoped that Mira would stand up for herself more, coming into the relationship at twice the age I was when he obtained me. Well, I wish her all the best. She deserves better than what we got from him.
Leora had said, earlier in the evening, that Mira is stupid to marry Seth. That she couldn't possibly have found a worse person to marry, no matter how lonely she was. And this was minutes after the man had taken them on thousands of dollars worth of skiing in Europe! Beatle song. 'Can't buy me lo-ove!'
OK. I'll print this up, now, and put it in my pack.
I wish I could time-travel just once. I would go back and dig into my back pack and swap this new Good Day write-up for the one I wrote ten years ago. So that when Seth was bad I would take it out and read – not an account of how good life was one fluky day when he was in an uncharacteristic good mood, but this account. Of how easy and good real life is every day, when you are surrounded by healthy, caring, well-meaning people.
I could be the reality fairy and slip into the pocket of each discouraged woman in the world, a glimpse of how joyous life can be in a real home.
-----------------------------------------------
Copyright 2020 by Shlomit Weber
-------------------------------------------------
