Leah Avrahami cast wondering eyes on the girls in front of
her:
"So why didn't you come to ask?"
The question hung for several seconds in the small room.
Larissa didn't hurry to respond, while Esther stubbornly
played with her braid. Leah motioned for them to sit and they
did so silently, slightly embarrassed. Suddenly she had a new
idea.
"Do you feel comfortable in class?" She asked brightly.
"Us?" Larissa threw out quickly, "Of course we do," Esther
slightly loosened her hold on her braid and added in a quiet
voice, "Why shouldn't we? What's the connection, anyway?"
Leah sighed. Yesterday the 10th grade homeroom teacher had
called: Larissa and Esther weren't registered for the big
class trip. She asked Leah to check into it. Leah was the
housemother of the dormitory in which Larissa, Esther, as
well as a few other girls from the class, lived. She always
went above and beyond the call of duty in order to improve
the morale of the girls. The rooms had a warm and homey
atmosphere. There remained not a trace of the squeaky bunk
beds or the rusty and dark iron cupboard. Each room contained
new formica furniture, bright lamps and a matching curtain
that waved in front of a polished window. Even her own
children didn't have such a room.
Leah's ambition was to make the dormitory girls feel on par
with the rest of their friends in class, those who would
sling their bags over their shoulders at the end of the day
and march home to tell their mothers their experiences at the
seminary, with a backdrop of a steaming plate of lunch and
the young voices of their younger siblings.
Indeed, a steaming plate always awaited the dormitory girls,
nutritious and varied, and with the most home-cooked taste
possible. Young voices also weren't lacking a few tables away
where the girls from kindergarten and the lower grades sat
and ate with sweet ringing voices: "Miss, can you give me
some rice?" Only a mother was missing in this scenery where
so much had been invested.
As soon as the teacher had called, Leah knew what was behind
the girls' refusal -- the hundred shekels for the trip.
Esther has a sick father, and a mother who was fighting for
survival. Esther doesn't even ask, she doesn't consider it a
great pleasure to hear, "There isn't any," from her parents
who would like to give her everything possible. It was just
that a hundred shekels was impossible. And Larissa? Larissa,
who has been wearing the same skirt for three years and re-
dyes her shoes each season — from where would she get
such an astronomical sum: one hundred shekels?
The dormitory administration helped the girls as much as they
could. Girls suffering from economic woes were assisted in
every way possible. School supplies were bought for them, a
school uniform, even soap and toothpaste. Why didn't they
request assistance in paying for the trip? Leah's confusion
returned and heightened in light of the faces of the two
girls who sat stubbornly and in silence.
"If you're happy in class," Leah finally broke the silence,
"what's the reason that you don't want to go on the trip? Why
didn't you ask for the money?"
"Look," Larissa tried to sound confident and honest, "I don't
think it's so terrible if I don't go. I've been putting off
all kinds of important errands that I have to do and there's
the paper that I have to finish already. If I don't go, I'll
have a free day to finish it all up..."
"Really," Esther cut her off, encouraged by the thread of
finality that Larissa had woven into her explanation, "we've
already gone on so many trips, it won't be so terrible if we
miss one trip. I'm thinking of going home to visit. That
could be very nice, actually."
Leah held her peace with a closed expression, even though in
her heart, her amazement didn't abate. Larissa's paper was
almost finished and except for an introduction, there was
nothing more to invest in it. And only this week, the girls
had gone home for Shabbos, so that being homesick wasn't
exactly overwhelming Esther. So why really didn't they come
and ask? She gave them another look. Maybe they'd give a real
reason after all. But the girls facing her maintained their
silence stubbornly and confidently.
*
Leah quickly sprayed from the blue bottle and skillfully
wiped the window. For her, Thursday was more challenging than
any other day of the week. Work at the dormitory was in full
swing. She had to supervise the girls so that they would
complete their weekly roster of chores, fill the order that
had arrived from the kitchen and authorize unscheduled leaves
from school. Only late in the afternoon was she free to go
home, where her mop and pail, mixing bowl and a chicken
defrosting on the counter, were awaiting her arrival.
This particular Thursday, Leah quickly finished the large
window in the living room and turned to dust the bookcase. A
lock of blond hair peeked out from the doorway.
"Ima, look what's written here," Shoshi offered her mother
the paper with one hand (the second held a mop). Leah took
the paper and scanned the lines that Shoshi pointed to.
"Today Only," the headline said, a standard ad for a
children's clothing sale. But in a moment, Leah understood
what it was about. The sale included an amazing collection of
brand names at bargain prices. "Only for cardholders of
`Clothing Club', the bottom line read.
"`Clothing Club'?" Leah wasn't familiar with a company or
store with that name but the prices were certainly
surprising.
Leah abandoned the idea of washing the balcony floor,
postponed her baking and turned to change her housecoat for
civilian clothes. After a half hour, she arrived at the
address in the ad. The place was buzzing with women who
crowded the small shelter, looking through piles of
merchandise that were piled on shelves and hanging on
racks.
But Leah smelled a rat. Something seemed unnatural about this
sale. The crowd looked different from what you usually see at
sales. And the cashiers and salesladies, they usually have no
place here. On the other hand, the prices were surprisingly
low and the merchandise certainly first rate.
"What's going on here?" she asked herself surprised as she
piled winter undershirts into a purple plastic basket. She
added another few pairs of socks and cute baby clothes which
were selling for pennies. "Yehudit won't believe it when she
sees the prices of these clothes." She thought of her married
daughter who would be happy to get something for her baby. In
contrast to the eagerness which possessed her, the atmosphere
around her was serene as ever. Her suspicions grew.
Leah approached the cash with three overflowing baskets and
her wallet open and ready. "Can I see your membership card?"
the gentle woman on the other side of the counter asked
quietly. Leah was momentarily confused. She had completely
forgotten about that, but recovered immediately:
"I don't have one yet but I'll be very happy to buy one. How
does one join the club?" In her enthusiasm she didn't notice
the thin smile spreading on the face of the woman opposite
her:
"You don't have to buy a card, you get it for free. That is,
if you meet the criteria." Leah loosened her hold slightly on
the purple baskets.
"Criteria?" Her suspicions took on the form of a flashing red
light.
"Yes, the sale is meant for families who are blessed with
many children, undergoing financial difficulties. If you want
to join, you have to send the tab on your ID card which lists
your children to the office of the organization . . . "
Leah's face changed shades and she became dumb from
astonishment.
"Uh... yes... well, I think... that I'm not eligible... I
just... I didn't know about any of this..." she said at last
with supreme effort, clearing the way for the next lady.
It was just a distribution of some chessed
organization. Things fell into place in her head. The
salesladies are the organizations representatives and that's
why they look more like rebbetzins than salesladies. And the
women, well, this isn't a group who are used to sales because
they can't allow themselves the luxury of buying at them.
Weak-kneed, she returned the merchandise to its place,
refusing to believe that it had all been a lovely dream and
she wouldn't be able to buy the nice skirt at such a low
price. She dragged her feet over to the bus stop, her arms
empty and her heart heavy, as the wonder and disappointment
were giving way to growing frustration. She remembered the
chores she hadn't completed and those still waiting for her,
and a feeling of injustice spread through her: Why wasn't it
even hinted at that it was a chessed organization?
Just like that to inconvenience a woman on a pressured
Thursday and only at the end to let her know that she wasn't
eligible. She felt anger, as well. What, all of a sudden, was
this membership card for the Clothing Club?
A smile fought its way to her face. It would have been more
appropriate to request a card membership for "Chassdei
Yossef" or "Love Your Neighbor" or whatever they called
themselves. In any case, you don't call this a "Sale". A
"Distribution" was the right word. So why had they written
everything in such a confusing and misleading way?
Two women had arrived at the bus stop speaking quietly, their
arms full of overflowing packages. They, obviously, possessed
a club card.
"That was a successful buy," said one in a quiet voice.
"There were real bargains this time," added the other. "This
sale was really worthwhile."
Buy? Sale? Worthwhile bargains? What's going on here?
"I convinced my neighbor to come and she enjoyed it so
much."
"It's a shame that the stockings were a bit expensive . . .
They're good quality." One of the women bent over her bag and
took something out.
"You see? It'll fit Devorah... It's exactly her size."
Leah's anger dissipated slowly and sparks of understanding
began to glow. They were talking as if they had really
returned from a sale and not a... distribution. Comprehension
dawned. It was clear. They hadn't come to a Gemach or a
Chessed organization. They had simply come to a sale with low
prices and they had a membership card in the Clothing Club
not Chasdei Yitzchak, not Ezrat Menachem, not a support
group. Of course not — just a regular sale.
She arrived home with a light heart and a full head and went
to sift flour without a shadow of resentment. When the aroma
of the challos permeated the house at a late and
impossible hour, Leah knew that she had a solution. Why not?
Can't somebody copy success?
*
"Esther, Noa, Larissa and Sarah," Shuli from 11th Grade
called into the rooms. The four girls rushed out.
"What's happened?"
"Nothing, why are you so nervous?" the girl laughed. "The
house mother is waiting for you downstairs in her room; she
needs you to help her." The four girls descended the stairs,
chatting calmly.
"Sonia won't be here today or tomorrow," she told them,
purposely avoiding Larissa and Esther's eyes. "I thought
maybe you could fill her shoes instead of our having to look
for someone from outside," she explained apologetically.
"Since your class finished early today, I thought you'd be
free to work in the laundry room."
Larissa blinked unhappily. Leah caught it before she said
something. "And, of course, you'll be paid." The girls looked
at her obviously surprised and suddenly Larissa didn't want
to say anything. "Is there anyone who isn't interested?" Leah
asked in the calmest tone she could. Noa raised her hand.
"I prefer not to," she said hesitantly.
"Me, neither" Sarah joined in. "I have a lot of homework and
I'm afraid I won't get it done." Leah smiled relieved. The
plan was working.
"You're excused then, Noa and Sarah."
Larissa and Esther worked without pause, sorting, working the
machines and folding. They returned sweaty to Leah informing
her that not a sock remained in the laundry room and that
they wanted to come back tomorrow. At the end of the next
work day, Leah gave them 130 shekels each and many thanks for
their lifesaving help. In her heart she thanked the Master of
the Universe for her success.
*
The bus took off with 32 happy girls on board and backpacks
filled with good things. One of the girls put a tape into the
cassette and lively sounds were heard between the seats.
Larissa bent over her bag and took out a colorful, rustling
bag. She opened it wide and offered crispy chips to those
around her. A couple of the girls thanked her and helped
themselves. Larissa suddenly joined in with the singing. What
a miracle that Sonia hadn't come right before the trip, and
how wonderful that she had had 30 shekels left to buy some
snacks.
