Part I
The way Tzippy figured it, the world was created to revolve
around her, much the way the earth and its fellow planets
orbit around the sun. She had always reckoned it, simple as a
scientific phenomenon, in plain view for all to see. A dry
fact against which no argument could arouse, a Heavenly
decree embedded in the laws of nature.
Then, one day, an earthquake struck the rickety foundation
upon which Tzippy's dream castle had been erected, sending
the ill-constructed fort to shatter into fragments against
the cold hardness of earth. And Tzippy, who came tumbling
down along with it, was cast into a dreary world which, to
her utter dismay, was more real than anything she had ever
known.
Seventeen-year-old Tzippy Braun, born and raised in a red
brick home in London, was the (spoiled) baby of the family.
Her oldest brother Yosef, 28, had married a girl from France
and had been living in Aix-les-Bains ever since his marriage.
Rocheli, 25, was living in Gateshead with her husband and two
children, while Temima, 23, resided in Switzerland. Then, of
course, there was nineteen-year-old Miri, who was spending
the first year of her marriage in Yerusholayim.
Up until a few months before, Miri and Tzippy had been living
in the same home, leading the same lives, constantly stepping
on each other's toes. Miri had always felt the need to guide
her sister through life, supplying her with oral lists upon
verbal pamphlets of crucial tips she had accumulated through
`years of experience.' She was older and obviously wiser and
intent on being the most helpful big sister she would
possibly be. She had learned life's lessons the hard way, so
why not clear the path of its obstacles so her kid sister
could stride straight through? Her stationing herself in the
precise locations where Tzippy's phone conversations were
taking place was not an offensive act but one of pure
benevolence, and the comments she made in response to
overheard quips were nothing short of wisdom gems.
Tzippy, on the other hand, had never felt any particular need
for her sister's maps of direction or territorial navigation
guidelines. For starters, the seas ahead appeared calm and
friendly, with only a rare trace of those ugly, headed storm
clouds, and besides, she couldn't see what was wrong with
carefully treading through the shallow waters on her own; if
anything happened, she would just swim swiftly back to shore.
Thus, the majority of tips and cautions that Miri
painstakingly comprised were cast aside with hardly a
glance.
As you could probably imagine, this served as a basis for
constant arguments and bickering between the two sisters.
Miri, utterly exasperated that Tzippy showed her no
appreciation and her golden advice no heed, quickly switched
over to a bossy mode. Tzippy, frustrated that Miri gave her
no peace and continued to insist upon dominating her life,
began ignoring her sister completely and made certain to
remain protectively away from her, taking shelter in the
shadows of her friends.
So it was throughout their years of high school, the
situation persevering until the day of Miri's graduation.
Then she was off to seminary -- only to return engaged a mere
few months later. The months that followed held some of
Tzippy's fondest memories: gown shopping with her friends,
jewelry shopping with more friends, and shoe shopping with
yet more friends. Her parents, of course, had to concentrate
all of their energies on Miri's needs, and Tzippy accepted
this without too much commotion. After all, she had her
scores of friends to carry her through, and a fine time she
made sure of having.
As the wedding day drew near, all of Tzippy's older siblings
started to arrive with their families, but this, too, posed
no problem at all, since the large brick house had plenty of
space and Tzippy actually enjoyed seeing her nieces and
nephews now and then.
Then came the wedding itself and ripples of excitement in its
wake. Tzippy loved music, and dancing was her favorite
pastime. She also thoroughly enjoyed having people's
attention focused on her, and as sister-of-the-bride, she
often found herself near the spotlight. Tzippy spent the
night swirling about in elegant fabrics, teaching her friends
sophisticated new steps and gracefully accepting the many
compliments she was given. "Oh, what a little dear!"
"Goodness! I still remember how you would cry for your
pacifier as a little infant, and now look at you!" "Don't
forget who's next in line, gorgeous!"
The week of sheva brochos was also quite nice, talking
and laughing with sisters and sisters-in-law way into the
night. Tzippy missed lots of school and forgot what homework
was and enjoyed a week of pure bliss. The best part of it all
was that Miri seemd to have outgrown her unwavering didactics
on every detail in Tzippy's life, and kept her instructions
to the barest minimum. Despite the nerve-wracking suspicion
that Miri's casualness towards her may have stemmed more from
preoccupation than from the decision to increase her level of
sensitivity toward her sister's wishes, Tzippy was content
not to investigate the matter too thoroughly.
And then it was over. All the relatives went home, Miri moved
away once again, and Tzippy's life resumed its normal
routine. School, homework, clubs, endless phone
conversations, shopping -- all the things of which you would
expect an only girl of seventeen's life to be composed. That
is... until it shattered. Her castle, her comfort, her life.
Everything!
Many months later.
The moment she entered the house, Tzippy could see there was
something amiss. The sight of suitcases lining the carpeted
floor and articles of clothing strewn randomly about was not
one that greeted her often upon arrival from school.
"Hello?" she called out, puzzled. "Anybody home?" She began
traipsing up the stairs, two by two, swung open the closet
door and was about to thrust her school things inside when
her mother's voice startled her from behind.
"Oh, hello, Tzippy darling. I'm so glad you're home. I'm
afraid there's been a bit of an emergency." A knot of worry
formed in Tzippy's abdominal region, right then and there.
She detected a certain note of panic in her mother's voice,
despite her seeming cool. Mrs. Braun tended to understate
things, a trait developed, perhaps, in the light of the
optimistic attitdue in which she viewed life.
"What's the matter, Mom?" Tzippy looked up expectantly.
"Miri phoned earlier this morning." Her mother paused,
finding it difficult to go on.
"Yes?"
"Oh, Tzippy!" Despite her good intentions, Mrs. Braun was
finding it impossible to contain her emotion. "She just gave
birth prematurely and the baby boy is seriously ill. I
promised to take the next plane to see her. I booked one for
seven o'clock. You'll have to care for yourself for a few
days, dear. I'm so sorry. it shouldn't be too long."
Bang! Although Tzippy didn't know it, the earthquake had
struck. The shabby foundation upon which Tzippy's dream
castle lay, shifted out of place. It was a matter of
when rather than if the structure would
collapse...
Mrs. Baun took off and Tzippy remained home alone with her
father who, for the most part, worked later hours at the
yeshiva. The first week really wasn't all that bad. Her
friends and their parents sympathized with her greatly and
Tzippy was invited to practically move in to numerous
friends' houses. She would accompany a different girl home
from school every day and would stay throughout the afternoon
doing homework, talking and eating. Often, she would even
stay the night. Her piano and dance lessons assumed their
normal course so that Tzippy rarely found herself unoccupied.
Her mother phoned the house often, but because Tzippy had
basically moved out, she missed the larger part of the
calls.
Up till this point, every aspect of Tzippy's life had been
customized and her mother's attention had been, for the most
part, all her own. She had been wont to being greeted in the
evenings with perfect meals her mother devotedly cooked up
specially for her. She was growing frustrated in her mother's
absence and the extended stays at friends' houses began to
rub off on her disposition. All of a sudden, she was no
longer Number One on anyone's agenda. She called her mother
up and confided in her, that is, if you reckon a tantrum of
groaning and complaints to be synonymous with confiding.
Mrs. Braun sounded frail and fatigued, although her daughter
missed the cue. "I'm so sorry, Tzippy, dear," she said
weakly. "Miri has just been released from the hospital today
but the baby will be confined there for at least a few more
weeks. I really hope that by then, G-d willing, he will be
strong enough to transfer to a hospital in London. Believe
me, I miss you. And Tzippy, please daven for the baby.
He's such a pathetic, adorable little thing. He's so
uncomfortable. Ask your friends to daven for rach
hanolad ben Miriam."
Their housekeeper had additional hours added on to her work
schedule to assure that Tzippy had a nice hot meal awaiting
her every day in her own home. This relieved Tzippy slightly,
as she was no longer forced to depend on others for her every
need, but the relief was only to a certain extent. Many
nights she would cry herself to sleep, feeling forlorn and
forgotten.
Interestingly, it never even occured to her that the basic
guide for family/human relations may have suggested that she
spare at least a thought or two for the mother who had, with
self-sacrifice, foregone the comfort of her home and routine
and traveled thousands of miles to serve as a full time child-
caretaker as well as projector of comfort and support,
despite her own lack of these crucial traits. It never
crossed Tzippy's mind that perhaps her suffering could be
compared to but the singeing of eyebrows, while her older
sister was enduring the full force fire in the flame's very
heart. No, Tzippy's sympathy had room for only one person,
and that was, of course, Tzippy.
When the day came at last that Mrs. Braun informed her
daughter of her imminent return, Tzippy's joy knew no bounds.
She skipped school and together with her father, went to the
airport to pick up Mrs. Braun, Miri, her husband and their
little baby.
The baby was everything Mrs. Braun had deemed him to be. He
was tiny, to be sure, only about half the size of your
typical infant, and he looked helpless and oh, so
pathetically dependent. But there was a particular charm to
him that even Tzippy couldn't help but notice. He had dark,
distinct hair, more than one would expect from a baby of his
size; small, brown, slightly glossy eyes, a snub nose and
adorable red lips that became heart-shaped when he cried
which was, unfortunately, too often.
The baby's father, Aaron, seemed much the same as always,
save for his facial expression which had throughout his
previous stay always been radiant with joy and was now
serious and thoughtful.
Tzippy's mother looked slightly older than when she had seen
her last; her smooth, dark skin seemed to be finally catching
up with her age, having broken out with a few lone wrinkles.
Her size, never overly massive, seemed to have shrunk
considerably.
It was Miri, however, that really made Tzippy stop in mid-
track, rub her eyes and blink. Miri, her proud, self-
confident sister, the girl who had always looked exactly
right, known exactly what to say and made the exactly desired
impression, now looked utterly depleted. Her rosy cheeks had
gone pale; dark bags had formed beneath her eyes and their
youthful gleam had been replaced with dark depth. She was
like a velvety red rose, deprived of water so long that its
elegant petals and verdant leaves shriveled into a
unrecognizable state. And like a withered rose, all that
remained of her former glory were the full-sized thorns that
clung bitterly on.
Hugs and greetings were exchanged and everyone piled into the
car for the drive home. Once there, Miri and her family
settled in to her old house, and life went on.
*
To Tzippy's dismay, life with her mother back home was not
all it was cut out to be. The baby had many health issues,
and caring for him was both taxing and time-consuming.
Although he was no longer hospitalized, he had to be taken in
for daily visits, and as Miri did not want her husband taking
too much time off his learning, she and Mrs. Braun would
bring the baby in on alternate days.
Due to this arrangement, Tzippy often found herself coming
home to a supper prepared by her sister, whose amateur
cooking was borderline palatable, and was then forced to sit
and devour it in the company of none other than Miri herself,
whom, as far as she was concerned, was becoming less
tolerable by the day.
"Miri, have you forgotten that I can't stand onions?" Tzippy
accused her, upon finding an onion-infested salad that was to
go along with her sausages.
"Sorry, Tzip. I totally forgot. But really, I don't see why
you have to be so picky about little things like that.
Personally, I don't think a salad is any good without
onions."
"Yeah? Well that's your opinion."
"Excuse me! I worked so hard to make you this salad and look
what I get for it: no `thank you', no appreciation. Just
complaints. `I can't stand onions! The toast is burnt! The
this is too that!" Miri's voice rose in an imitation of
Tzippy's.
Tzippy's face flushed in partial indignation, partial insult.
"I'm sorry, but it's true. Mommy takes the trouble to make
food the way I like it and you just don't care."
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're spoiled? A seventeen-
year-old girl shouldn't have to depend on her mother for her
every need. You should seriously think about learning how to
cook for yourself, one of these days. That way, you'll be
more prepared for marriage."
"Look who's talking! Do you by any chance remember the first
meal you ever cooked? Was it more than ten months ago? And
just because you're having trouble getting used to cooking
doesn't mean that I will. You think that all your
problems will follow me around, too."
And so the arguing went on, even more full force than the
year before. Each of the girls snatched every opportunity to
vent the bottled-up resentment they had toward one another.
Tzippy resented Miri for having shifted her comfortable life
style while Miri resented her sister's lack of sensitivity
toward her fate. Sadly, the constant quarreling only
increased the tension in the Braun household.
[How does our sixteen-year-old author resolve this conflict?
Final part, Parshas Noach, leaving you time to think.]
