Rivky laughs. “Well, I’m stupid and vain sometimes,” she says easily. It’s true, but Rivky is so cheerful about it that Chana can’t hold it against her
ON the way to shul, distracted by her conversation with her sister-in-law, Chana Hartman trips on a neighbor’s tricycle and breaks one of her heels. She only wears them when Rivky and Eliezer come for Shabbos — only remembers them in the face of Rivky’s perfectly styled sheitel and fashionable dresses — and apparently, she’s forgotten how to walk in heels.
One moment, she’s talking to Rivky about their ten-year-old girls’ school drama, and the next, she’s flat on her back.
“Chana! Chana, are you okay?” Rivky is peering down at her.
“I’m fine,” Chana says automatically, even though it’s an outrageous lie. She is not fine. Her back is aching, her hip is flaming with pain, her sheitel is probably a wreck. And are her stockings torn?
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