Avi knew Heshy could be brash and over-confident, but he also knew that Heshy Labinsky had done this before, more than once
Faigy Korman wasn’t the type who offered opinions regarding her husband’s friends. She was happy he had friends at all, men being so focused on work all the time. He wasn’t much of an athlete, like her sister Yocheved’s husband who went out every Sunday to play basketball with a group of men, and she had to beg him to go to the annual men’s barbecue in their neighborhood. He was vehemently against WhatsApp chats, and if not for his shiurim and board meetings, she doubted he would socialize at all.
So when Heshy Labinsky called, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t grimace or mutter, even though she had what to say.
Heshy Labinsky, she had always thought, believed that other people had been created simply so he could boss them around with all his ideas and have them say how amazing he was. The appropriate response to any and every comment Heshy Labinsky made, she once noted, was “wow.”
He’d never been easygoing, and business success had certainly not made him more endearing. Every few months she saw his name and huge smile in a dinner ad for whichever mosad was anointing him guest of honor, and she felt relief that she and Avi had moved to Lakewood instead of staying in Brooklyn, where he’d been their neighbor.
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