Free The Marrying of Chani Kaufman by Eve Harris

then, and hopefully the lingerie would have served its purpose.
    â€˜Sounds intriguing . . . anything for me?’
    She couldn’t possibly tell him. ‘Yes, um, well . . .’ Chani petered out.
    He waited in vain for her to go on. He wanted to say he was looking forward to Sunday but he wasn’t certain he really was. He wanted to know what she was feeling. He wanted to know whether she was as nervous about Sunday as he was. His hands grew clammy at the thought of it. Baruch sensed that the conversation was ebbing away. They would be married in two days and they still couldn’t manage a phone call.
    As usual, a void yawned between them. Baruch was only a mile away from Chani’s bus, but he felt light years separated them. The convention of polite small talk was choking him but it was apparent to him that Chani was not ready yet to leave unfamiliar turf, although they had already spoken on several occasions. And why should she be? After all, they still barely knew one another. He felt trapped. This call could almost be a recording.
    Baruch wanted more. He kicked the back tyre of his bike and wondered if he should change tack. A light breeze was stirring the brilliant sea of autumn leaves and they swirled in gusty eddies around his feet, catching against his trousers. He wished Chani was standing here next to him. There was a deep need in him to see her, to read her expressions and move beyond stilted talk. He wanted to know her in every sense, but the more he tried, the further away she seemed.
    â€˜How are you feeling?’ she asked suddenly.
    â€˜I’m fine, I guess – ’ Baruch was momentarily taken aback by her question. He could hear the rumble of the bus. Perhaps he had misheard her? He waited for her to speak again, to be sure.
    â€˜What are you thinking about – I mean, are you thinking about Sunday?’
    This was a first. Her words were crisp and clear. Baruch paused, gathering his thoughts, preparing an honest, if somewhat abridged, censored and acceptable answer.
    â€˜I guess I’m a little nervous – obviously Sunday means things will change forever for both of us and I think if HaShem allows it, the change will hopefully be for the better. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about Sunday . . . how about you?’
    â€˜Um, the same . . . yes, it’s a little scary, isn’t it?’
    Come on Chani, say more. Baruch willed her to go on. ‘Yes it is. May I ask what scares you the most? Is it not knowing me very well?’
    The-wedding-night-the-wedding-night-the – wedding-night. The words revolved in her mind like a washing machine stuck on spin cycle. The engine of the bus seemed to throb to their rhythm.
    But of course she couldn’t say them. ‘B’srat HaShem, all will be well. I will daven for both of us tonight so that HaShem may bless us and keep us, and ensure that our hasanah goes to plan – ’ she trailed off, the fraudulence of these bland sentiments preventing her from continuing.
    â€˜Amen,’ said Baruch. Well, what else was he supposed to say? He had tried. His heart sank. Was she so frum that the barriers would never come down between them?
    â€˜Baruch, yes, I’m scared, actually I’m terrified – I can’t sleep and I can’t eat – ’ gabbled Chani.
    She had revealed too much. The poise she had tried to cultivate lay in tatters. This was not how it was done. But there was a sense of relief in her, a welcome unburdening.
    â€˜I’m the same – exactly the same – so don’t worry – it’s both of us – I haven’t sleep well for weeks actually – well, since I met you – ’
    Chani smiled. The doubts still perturbed her, but his confession, although exuberant, had charmed her. ‘I have to go now, gotta get off here – I will see you in shul on Sunday, Baruch and . . . it was nice talking to you. I