Free Hush by Judy Brown, Eishes Chayil Page B

drive a car. I told that to my mother and asked her if it was true. And anyway, I said, wasn’t it more tzniesdig for a woman to be in the car than out in the street? My mother just pursed her lips and said that she had to drive because of different reasons and that plenty of women drove. She looked very annoyed, so I didn’t tell her that only three other girls in my class had mothers who drove and they were all more modern. I liked being more modern, if only just a little bit. When my friends said that my mother was modern because she drove, I told them they didn’t even know why she drove and it was for all different reasons that I couldn’t say and it was none of their business anyway.
    Now I sat in the front seat near my mother and listened to her talk with Mrs. Goldblatt about Devory.
    Mrs. Goldblatt leaned over the car window and, shaking her head, spoke in a low voice. “I don’t know what to do with the child anymore. I’m telling you, I don’t know what to do. Did I tell you about today? Yes, I already told you on the phone before.… I’m telling you, the teachers don’t want her in the classroom. Her teacher Mrs. Greenstein is being really helpful, but I’m at my wit’s end. She used to be so different. What happened?”
    My mother shook her head and stared into space for a few moments. She promised to call her later in the evening, and then drove down the block. At the red light she turned to me. “What happened in school today with Devory?”
    I told her everything. How Devory had been kicked out of class in the morning, then in the afternoon for reading a book—a goyishe book—and how she had walked out without her shoes, munching on the cake, and Miss Goldberg was so angry she was screaming, and she never screams. I laughed, remembering how Devory had looked down at her toes as if they didn’t belong to her. And then I just found the whole scenario so funny I couldn’t stop laughing. My mother didn’t agree. She just shook her head and muttered to herself about “that child.”
    My father was in the kitchen when I entered the house.
    “Where is my missing little girl?” he boomed as he strode out of the kitchen with his arms opened wide.
    Delighted, I dropped my briefcase and coat and ran to the dining room. My father chased after me, and around and around we went until I caught him and climbed up to his waist. He threw me up in the air, hugged me tight, and warned me that I still owed him fifty-seven kisses from yesterday’s game.
    “Totty!” I shrieked happily, dangling over his shoulder. “I can’t give you so many kisses—it hurts my mouth!”
    He plunked me down on the couch, and I tickled him so that he fell backward onto it, and I sat on his stomach and kissed him up until my mother came in laughing.
    “Hashem should bless you two. You could make a comedy. I never saw such a pair. What are you gonna do when she gets married?”
    My father sighed and let his arms dangle over the couch. I groaned.
    “Oh, not again. I don’t want to hear it.” I stretched out my neck, trying to imitate my father’s deep voice.
    “In just a few short years,” I intoned, “you’re gonna grow old, and get married, and fly far, far away from your father.… And of course, you won’t even remember who he is anymore.”
    My parents laughed as I skipped out of the dining room singing.
    “Get ready for bed!” my mother called after me. “It’s late.”
    When my father came to tuck me in, he threatened me with at least twenty kisses.
    “Totty!” I demanded. “It makes me wet. Why can’t you give me just one kiss?”
    My father looked at me sorrowfully.
    “But I am giving you only one kiss. One kiss for every day of your life. One day when you grow older, you’ll get married and fly away, and then I’ll never be able to kiss you again.”
    “ Oy , Hashem,” I said, and covered my face with the blanket. Then I remembered something.
    “Totty,” I asked him, “do I have to get married