Queen Esther Cleans For Pesach,Bracha Goykadosh

As she washed the last bit of grime off the very last dish, Esther Koenig wondered exactly what she had gotten herself into. There she stood, in her suffocating small apartment building, by the little box of a window, which only faced another apartment building, repetitious white stone, her hands cold and clammy, washing, yes, washing, the dishes. She turned off the faucet, dried her hands, and took a deep breath. She chose this life. She wanted this life. She knew this was the right way to live.

And yet, at the very same time, she knew her mother and sisters would laugh at her and her seemingly self-imposed poverty and self-exile from life, as they knew it. Who would have ever thought that Esther Judas, the pretty, vivacious girl from Flatbush who looked like she lived for nothing more than diets and 13th Avenue shopping sprees, would become Esther Koenig, a simple, unassuming housewife and teaching assistant who wore aprons?

Certainly not Mrs. Judas; she had high hopes of her daughter marrying a doctor, or maybe a lawyer; yes, of course, a ben Torah, that was expected, but someone had to make the parnassah, and Esther couldn't go out andwork. And Esther's sisters would have never thought that their oldest sister who barely batted an eyelash, let alone lifted a finger at home would have ever chosen a lifestyle that was in any way hard, or a challenge.

But she did. Esther Koenig, kollel wife. She loved it, of course. She had always been somewhat romantic at heart, dreaming of fairy-tales and high- heeled shoes carelessly strewn by the doorway, the smell of chocolate strudel wafting from the oven. And she had always had a rose-tinted, hazy view of kollel life, almost as if she was watching a dream or wearing glasses with a too-high prescription.

She thought it was beautiful. A husband learning all day, while his wife supported him and supported Torah as she went out to work and conquered the world. She had found the picture alluring, almost tantalizingly sweet, as if it were a candy she had to taste. And she had. And Esther Judas, spoiled, somewhat-petty, maxed-out credit card Esther Judas had become Esther Koenig; Esther Koenig who had been waltzing on a cloud of a dream since her wedding in November to kollel yungerman Chaim Koenig, and had suddenly, on Shushan Purim came crashing down into the cold light of reality.

And all of a sudden, she abruptly wakened from the trance she had been drifting through and realized that this year she was not going to be with her family for Pesach. Nor was she going to be with anyone else's family, or a hotel's family. This Pesach she would be at home, in this squishy little apartment. Cooking and cleaning for the bachurim that Chaim would bring home from his yeshiva. And she thought, very wryly to herself, even though she knew very much that it was wrong to feel this way and that she should be happy and proud that she was being able to sacrifice so much to do a mitzvah, that she wasn't going to be a queen this Pesach. She was going to be a slave.

And it was right then, that she felt that familiar lump at the back of her throat, the one she always felt before she was going to cry, (except previously, when she was still single, the only things she ever really cried about were lost Cartier tennis bracelets and failed cake recipes) and Esther felt her eyes slowly well with tears. And then there was a bang.

All senses on alert, Esther stood, her eyes wide and her back straight. Then there was another bang and Esther resolutely went to answer the door. The doorbell had broken yesterday.

"Hi, Esther," Chaim said as he came into their apartment. "My night seder was great, you should see my chavrusah. Mamash, such a genius, such an ilui."

"That's good," Esther said sitting on the sofa opposite Chaim.

There was an awkward silence for a moment and Chaim looked at Esther expectantly, his brows furrowed and his mouth slightly open. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

For a moment, Esther wanted to let it all spill, but she knew that would only drown Chaim in worries. She wanted to tell him how this was hard for her and how "No, everything's okay," Esther said. "I'm just a little tired I guess."

"Oh," Chaim said. "I guess this wouldn't be the best time to bring up our Pesach plans."

Suddenly, Esther felt more relaxed. Chaim knew. Chaim understood. He would tell her that it was okay. That they could go home to her parents or maybe his great-uncle and aunt, the ones who had a villa in the South for Pesach. Chaim knew how hard she had been working. Esther smiled benevolently. "Now is a good time as any," she said.

Chaim's tensed-up shoulders fell back comfortably. "Great. Because I was just speaking to the yeshiva's mashgiach, and he said that some of the boys won't be going home for Pesach, especially the Israeli ones. So I told Rabbi Wein that we could for sure host at least three or four. That's okay, right, Es?"

"That's fine," Esther squeaked.

"Great," Chaim gave her a broad smile. "I knew you'd be happy."

There was another long silence for a moment.

"Guess we should start cleaning now, huh?" Chaim said.

"Cleaning?"

"Yes, for Pesach?"

"Well, I thought we could get an ozeret. As a matter of fact, my mother already spoke to one of her friends here and someone is coming on Sunday."

"Your mother is sending a cleaning lady?" Chaim said with a confused expression on his face.

"Yes," Esther said. "But don't be worried. My mother said she'd pay for it. Sort of like a post-wedding present. She said she feels bad that we're not spending our first Pesach with them, so we can have Margarita for a couple of days."

"We can have Margarita for a couple of days," Chaim repeated. "Oh, Esther"

"What?" Esther said. "What's wrong? We don't have to worry about a thing. Not the money and it'll be a little more relaxing, you know?"

"It's not about the money, Esther. It's just that," Chaim paused as if he was trying to formulate his words. "It's just that, even though you got it, you don't have to flaunt it. Pas b'melach, right?"

"But-" Esther began to say, but inwardly even the princess within her knew Chaim was right. It was just like when she was six and she would bring her new set of markers to school even though the other girls didn't have markers. The other women, her new friends, would probably feel awkward.

"It shouldn't be so hard, right?" Chaim said. "We'll work on it together and we'll get this apartment fit for Pesach."

"I just," Esther began to say, but then she shook her head.

"What?"

"No, nothing."

Chaim nodded and then opened up his sefer.

"I just never made Pesach all by myself," Esther whispered.

* * *

The days slowly "dusted" into weeks, as Esther kept herself busy with her job. She figured she would probably do all her cleaning a day or two before Pesach. And cooking, well one was allowed to cook on Pesach, was she not? Spring's green breeze caressed Esther's cheek as Esther waltzed down to the mall, eyeing the windows hungrily.

She was only window-shopping, she thought as she passed a store with the most beautiful dresses in the front. It wouldn't hurt if she window-shopped. And, she thought, as she stood before the store, it really wouldn't hurt if she went in and looked around.

She slowly walked into the store and the little jingle of the bell almost transported her into another world. She took a long, deep breath and smelled all the clothes, all the beautiful fabrics, the silk, the satin, the linen, the pretty rainbow of spring colors, pastels, all waiting to be worn.

"Can I help you?" one of the salesladies said, jolting Esther out of her reverie.

"Umm," Esther began to say. "That's really-"

"Well," the saleslady pounced. "We just got these exquisite new dresses from France, the latest rage there you see, and I think we have a pink that would look just darling with your skin."

"A pink?" Esther said, feeling uncharacteristically flustered.

The saleslady showed Esther a beautiful dress, and Esther could almost feel her heart plummet into shallow waters, just like it did in the old days when she saw something pretty.

"Let me try it on," Esther said, heading toward the dressing room. Once in the dressing room, Esther looked at the price tag. Wow. There were days when she wouldn't have blinked before spending this much on a scarf, let alone a dress, but now things were different.

But, really she could spend the money her mother had given her for the cleaning lady on this dress. She deserved it. She did, didn't she? She would be the most beautiful wife, and besides, wasn't a husband supposed to buy his wife pretty things for Yom Tov? Why not, why shouldn't she have this pretty dress?

But this dress was part of a different world. A world that she chose to leave. She couldn't look back.

With a wry laugh, she hung the dress on the hook, and very sardonically thought that the princess, she, Esther Judas, had become a pauper.

* * *

"Is everything okay?" Chaim asked Esther as she scrubbed the counter.

"Everything is fine," Esther said. "Just fine. Except that this counter will not get clean whatever I do to it."

"Esther, I think we bought it that way."

"I thought it would get clean anyway, but apparently not," Esther said with a bitter laugh.

"Oh," Chaim said meekly.

Esther felt something within her pop. "You know, this cleaning business is really, really hard. My hands are raw and red and the place is still a mess! I don't know, I don't think I'm going to be able to clean this entire place for Pesach!"

"I'll help," Chaim offered.

Esther snorted before she could even stop herself. "Sure."

"No, I'll help," Chaim said grabbing a dishcloth. "We can do this together."

Esther reflected on the irony of the scene. When was her father ever in the kitchen? When did he even ever help clean?

She looked at Chaim and smiled.

* * *

There she sat, around the small, somewhat cramped table, white linen tablecloth as soft as silver, glasses of wine glistening like rubies and the smiling faces lit up all around. She fingered her simple outfit as she listened to her husband deliver a dvar Torah, and suddenly, she knew that she had been a pauper all along, and now, now she was a princess. Now, now she was really Queen Esther.

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Queen Esther Cleans For Pesach , Bracha Goykadosh