Perri didn’t quite roll her eyes, but the exasperation on her face reminded Chaim of Simi having a Teenaged Moment

“Chaim, do you have a few minutes before night seder?” Perri asked as she swiftly collected the plates and silverware from the kitchen table. “I need to ask you something.”

Chaim finished his brachah acharonah and checked his watch. “Yeah. A few.”

“Can we do this in the study?”

Chaim looked up, confused. He couldn’t see Perri’s face — she was stacking the plates in the sink — but her stiff back would have done an army commander proud. “Umm, okay.”

“Great.” She led him to the room and shut the door. “I wanted to talk to you about Shloimy, and I don’t need the other kids listening in.”

“What about Shloimy?”

Perri sighed. “I’m worried about him. He has this new friend he keeps bringing home bein hasedorim. A really talented kid — they play together, keyboard and guitar, beautiful music. The first time this Lazer came, they sort of lost track of the time and I had to remind them to hurry back to yeshivah. Then today, I came home and found them playing and it was in the middle of second seder. Not like a little late. Like — they were totally missing it. Maybe even on purpose.”

She looked straight at Chaim. “What would you do if you found your son playing his guitar in the living room at five o’clock in the afternoon?”

Chaim ran his tongue over his lips. “I — I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

“Hmm.” Perri’s eyes narrowed. “So think about it. I’ll wait.”

This version of Perri — the calculated judge — always made Chaim nervous. Nervous to say the wrong thing, to make the wrong move, to provide yet more proof that he wasn’t smart enough or strong enough for her expectations.