The conversation went worse than Chaim had expected.
Gitty had always been a challenge for Shaindy, and the language was the least of it. When Heshy had called to tell them that he wanted to live in Eretz Yisrael forever — when you find your place, you just find you place, he laughed, and here he knew that he was home — Shaindy had been relieved.
She loved Heshy fiercely, of course, but she had never really gotten him — his big peyos and thick beard one day, close trim and cool haircut the next, the guitar lessons and chassidus-is-the-root-of-my-soul stage, and then the kannai phase, when he had censored their succah decorations and removed gedolim whose ideology he had trouble with.
Chaim found his youngest son entertaining. Learning was hard for Heshy, and the boy clearly didn’t have zitzfleish, so what should he do? Baruch Hashem, he was erlich and had wonderful middos.
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