by Chana Lebawitz
There was something so satisfying about
the blue, blue water and the larger-than-life animals. She got down on the
water bed, half submerged in water, and Star leaped up beside her. She threw
him another handful of fish, then stood to dry off.
* * *
Chava Masha took a forkful of her
mac-and-cheese and let out a breath. The warm overhead lights gave an aura of
calm, and she felt her muscles relax. She brushed her shoes over the old beige
tiles. Nothing like an old-school eatery. She blew on her cup of cocoa. A gust
of cool air hit her, and she turned to see the door open. “Shifra!” Chava Masha
embraced her old school friend.
“I had a home consultation on this
side of town,” said Shifra as she pulled off her fur-lined gloves and joined
Chava Masha at the table. She leaned forward, her freshly curled hair swooping
over her shoulder. “What are you doing these days?”
Stuck. Why did every small
encounter leave her feeling trapped? “What about you?” Chava Masha returned.
Shifra didn’t seem to notice. She
smiled, showing a row of pearly whites, and began a ballad about working with
special children: “It’s like I can…I don’t know…connect with them. And when I
do, it’s just the most special feeling ever.” She picked up the menu, tracing
her manicured finger down the list.
Chava Masha nodded, eyes shining.
“I have that in my line of work also.”
Shifra looked up. “You never told
me what you do.”
Good one. Trapped, Chava Masha
clutched her mug. “I,” she took another bite then a sip of cocoa. “I work with
marine mammals.” That was safe enough.
Shifra tilted her head, “Like
research?” Chava Masha reddened, “It’s actually more like,” she searched for
the word, “hands on, I guess.”
“I love it. We always knew you had
the brains for some cool,” she gestured with her hand, “out-there type of job.”
She laughed and Chava Masha tensely joined. She felt like she was back in high
school – big brains stationed at the back of the room. Quiet, ever so quiet.
She felt suffocated. She felt her drooping pony wet against her neck. If only
her hair were done; she was far from sixteen.
Shifra was still waiting, “What is
it you do exactly?” She traced the rim of her bowl.
“I’m a dolphin trainer,” said
Chava Masha slowly. Silence
“A what?” Shifra laughed, a
tinkling sound. “Like in an aquarium?”
Chava Masha stared into her cocoa.
“I mean it’s a private facility. Women only and all that, and they are so
accommodating.” She clutched the handle. “They don’t even mind that I wear a
full tznius swim set.” She paused for
air. “I don’t do shows, just the training. They’re not show dolphins. They’re
injured ones. It’s a rescue facility. They’re, like, special dolphins.” She was
rambling. Breathe, Chava Masha.
Shifra was looking at her
expectantly. “But kinda, yeah.” She trailed off. “In the aquarium and all
that.” Shifra tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at the menu. She looked
back up, slowly. “You work as a dolphin trainer,” she repeated dumbly.
Chava Masha blushed harder.
“Exactly.” Her fork scraped against the china bowl.
“That’s so…,” Shifra searched for
the word, “fascinating.” Her eyes danced around and bulged.
Chava Masha looked into her bowl.
She knew that look too well. Three years is a long time, but it isn’t long
enough to forget. That was a lifetime ago. That was the last date she went on,
three years and counting.
* * *
It was dark outside. Chava Masha’s
face was illuminated by the computer light. Chava Masha Greenbaum, 24 years
old. Occupation: Dolphin trainer, Josephine Alt Dolphin Rehabilitation
Facility. She clicked. The cursor obediently followed. She gave it a hard
stare, then slowly, deliberately, pressed the backspace key. Occupation… The
word stared back at her questioningly – the world is yours, take your pick. She
paused, then resolutely typed, “Eighth grade Chumash teacher, Darchei Noam.” How
much more fitting.
She sent her updated resume to
three shadchanim.
*
* *
The calls came
in quick. She had five resumes all lined up. Five! The first five suggestions
she had received in three years, and they all came within days of each other.
Goodness, she never had to deal with this type of decision making before. In
the end, Avigdor Grunblatt made the cut. Somehow he was everything she was
looking for and then some more. Her stomach danced and squeezed in the queerest
way. It was hope she realized, hope.
*
* *
She sipped her
diet Fanta. “Most girls don’t choose that on their first date,” he said. His
eyebrows crinkled and he laughed, and Chava Masha found herself laughing along
with him. She looked at her drink, “I just don’t want to bore you.”
“You’re right,
I’ve had enough of girls asking just for water.” He straightened his tie.
“No.” Chava
Masha turned serious. “I’m not like that,” she said quietly. “In a way I’m sort
of that typical Bais Yaakov girl, but then, on the other hand, I totally have
my own personality. I don’t do silly things just because, I don’t know…” she
searched for the words, “just because everyone decided that the only way to
live life is to blindly follow the crowd.” She blushed. Gosh, that was a stupid
thing to say on a first date.
“No, I like
that,” he said, tilting his head. “It’s good to follow everyone for real ruchniusdig things, but for silly,
superficial things, it really can get suffocating.” He took a drink of his
Coke. “And you’re a Chumash teacher; you’re the real deal.”
Chava Masha
blushed again.
“What’s the big
deal if you like things like Fanta soda and…” he trailed off.
“And dolphins,”
she whispered.
*
* *
For their fifth
date he took her to the National Nature Observatory. “It’s so interesting,” he began
as they walked around the park. “My aunt works at Darchei Noam, and she said
she doesn’t know of you.”
“Yeah?” said
Chava Masha. Her hands were ice. Her mind was jumping about. “That’s so
interesting.” She looked at her shoes and clenched her fingers together. “I
mean, I guess I have more of a quiet personality.” She was at a loss for words
for a moment. “So maybe…” she trailed off, beet red, her heart pounding.
Avigdor looked
at her. “Oh, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” They walked in silence. “How
do you like it,” he asked. She looked at him questioningly. “Teaching,” he
filled in. “How do you like teaching?”
She breathed
out slowly. “I love it, my students,” she faltered, “I really feel a connection
with them.” She looked up and her eyes got fiery. “I love it. It makes me feel
so alive. And I feel like I’m making a difference, because without this help,
some of these…these students…would have a really hard time functioning on their
own.” She trailed off breathless.
“That’s
beautiful,” he shook his head. “Wow.” They walked on, and Chava Masha kept her
eyes on her feet. “Where should we go next?” he said, breaking the silence.
“Next what?”
she asked. Her mind was scrambled.
“Next date,” he
laughed.
“Oh, of
course.” Now she was laughing too, the tension ebbing out in one happy swoosh.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She smiled and waved her hands. “Really, you can choose.”
She giggled, “I’m really not fussy about most things.”
“Only Fanta
soda?”
“Right, that,”
they laughed again.
*
* *
“I think you’re really going to
enjoy what I planned for today.” Avigdor glanced at her. “You said you like
dolphins?” He smiled conspiratorially.
“Yeah,” she smiled, fingering her
scarf. But as the drive went on, her smile loosened, and she began to feel
weak. He turned the wheel and pulled into an agonizingly familiar parking lot.
Chava Masha’s face drained of color. The sign in front of her was blue and
white and ever so familiar: “Welcome to Josephine Alt Dolphin Rehabilitation
Center.”
“How,” she paused for air, “how
did you get passes here?” She felt the air evaporate, and she had to pant to
get even one shallow breath. Avidgor was oblivious.
“I have some connections,” he
laughed. “You know they don’t usually take in guests here.” Yes, Chava Masha
knew. The car walls pressed in on her, and she saw the stark, harsh truth
glaring at her in the form of the two cheerful dolphin statues framing the
door. There was no way out. She turned to him to say something, to push off the
inevitable.
There was a knock on the window. Chava
Masha jumped. Marcien. Of all times. Chava Masha turned a shade whiter. “Aw,
did you come with your fiancé, Masha?” she asked.
“Sorta,” choked Chava Masha.
“You know her?” Avigdor asked
perplexed from the driver’s seat.
“Know her?” Marciene trilled. Time
slowed to a syrupy drip and Marcien’s voice filled the entire car. Chava Masha
wanted to cover her ears, to yell, to grab the wheel, and to bring them
anywhere, anywhere but here. “Why,” simpered Marcien, “she is our most invested
worker we have on staff here.” She looked at Avidgor. “You should know she is
someone special.”
“Thanks, Marcien,” Chava Masha
whispered hoarsely. A quiet heavier than any words filled the car. Avigdor
turned the keys in the ignition and the car came to life, breaking the silence.
“What was that all about?” he
asked finally. He reversed out of the parking lot. Her stomach was knotted in
such tight loops she almost couldn’t get out a single word. “I’m sorry,” she
whispered.
“Sorry, what?” He kept his eyes on
the road. He stole a glance at her, “You work there?” His voice was
incredulous. She nodded. “And you teach, when?”
“I don’t,” she whispered hoarsely.
Silence filled the car again. A silence that burned. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“You lied,” he said.
“Because if I put that on my
resume…” she began and then she was rambling, close to tears. “If I put it on
my resume you wouldn’t even have looked at it. You would just have tossed it
out and chose one of the other 15 girls offered to you. And,” she breathed,
“and I had enough with being tossed aside. I am more than my job, and what does
my job say about me, other than a side hobby I enjoy.” She took a shaky breath.
“I care about Torah, and I want a long-term learner, and,” she took another
breath, “I can support, I really can. But the shadchanim keep redting
me biochemists and literature PhDs, and…” she ran out of stream, “It’s not
typical for a frum girl to be a
dolphin trainer.”
“Okay,” he said finally, and his
voice was a little softer. “I think I can try to understand.”
“Yeah?” asked Chava Masha.
“You know,” said Avigdor, and a
little pink crept into his cheeks. “I really do understand you.” Chava Masha
turned curiously. He paused, “You know the night shiur I talk about?” Chava Masha nodded. “I, well, I really,” his
face got even redder, “really…” he whispered.
“Just say it!” said Chava Masha.
“Really, there is no such shiur.” The air in the car stood still.
“I have a side dog-walking business.” He stared at the leather wheel “It
rejuvenates me, and I come to my learning with a clear head,” he said quietly.
He stretched his taunt fingers, “and besides, a little cash can really come in
handy sometimes.”
“You what?” said Chava Masha. Her
mouth hung open. The budding gadol hador she
was dating walked dogs for petty cash.
“I love it,” he looked at his
nails, “it makes me feel alive.” He trailed off.
Chava Masha looked at him askance.
Horror bubbled in her stomach for just a moment. Then she giggled, because she
really wasn’t one to judge. “Okay,” she said, “I understand.” He was still lost
in his thoughts, “I mean it’s really not so crazy. The Avos were shepherds…and it makes you feel alive,” said Chava Masha.
“And even if everyone thinks it’s
strange…” he said.
“We couldn’t really care,” she interrupted.
“We?” he laughed. “Well,
alright. I guess we have a tentative Mazal Tov.”
