Bruchy suffered terribly, either with the challenge of mothering eight kids under the age of nine, or with an only child, or with the sudden fear that her first sentence was terribly cliché
B
ruchy stood in her kitchen. It was an ordinary kitchen, as most kitchens in frum fiction are wont to be, except that it had a missing drawer in the island, to make the story unique.
Bruchy was married to Baruch. “Two typical names, but also unique because of the alliteration, right?” Bruchy had mused to her best friend Gayil when she’d gotten engaged.
Gayil, who had a typical name with a twist, served the incredible purpose of filling spaces in all of Bruchy’s conflicts — and there were many — without the bother of having to have her own backstory, and also knowing exactly what to say when.
Bruchy and Baruch were married for ten years, and they had five children. No, that would be too perfect. They either had eight children, including a set of triplets, or they only had one child, born after nine years of marriage.
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