She had expected in time to become a part of the social life of those around her. She’d been realistic; it would not happen overnight. But she’d expected that after a year among them, they would have thawed somewhat; that she would invite and be invited in return for Sabbath meals. That she would be asked to join the other women in participating in local chesed efforts—collecting donations for poor local brides and grooms, baking cakes for newlywed sheva bracha dinners, bringing meals to new mothers … But somehow none of that had happened. The neighbors, who had all been friends with Yaakov’s first wife, had very politely begged off her dinner invitations with one excuse or another and had failed to invite her in return. And no one had come knocking on her door to ask her to join in their little local projects. In fact, except for a polite greeting when coming across each other, they pretty much ignored her. And now, with the whole music fiasco, their children had followed suit. If not for Fruma Esther going door to door and basically twisting their arms, Chasya would still be playing all by herself.

While the intervention had alleviated the problem of the children, it had not endeared her to her neighbors. They still kept their distance. At this point, she didn’t really care anymore. Who needs people like that as friends? she told herself angrily. Which was fine except that it meant she didn’t have any friends.

Of course, there was always Shoshana. But as sympathetic as her best friend in the neighborhood was, she was unable to do much. She was in her last year of residency, and her working hours were off the charts. In addition, she was planning her wedding, a complicated and lavish affair that had to include all the religious strictures necessary to keep her parents and their friends happy, as well as all the American wedding aesthetics taken for granted by the groom’s upper-class Bostonian family. In other words, mission impossible. Shoshana was struggling with it. While they spoke on the phone several times a week and had managed to sneak in time for coffee, Shoshana clearly wasn’t going to be much of a companion.

“I know I should try to help myself, HaShem. I could go back to our skating group on Mondays. But that’s the night Yaakov meets with Meir! I explained this to him, and he really tried to change to another night, but it’s the only night Meir can do it … so I said okay.” She sighed. She hated the way this was sounding. Saint Leah, the martyr.

“I guess I could get a babysitter, but the thing is, even though we are both working so hard, a lot of the money is going to pay off loans, and what’s left is eaten up by taxes and rent.”