The DMC
A Column for Teens (of all Ages)
as told to Michelle Mond
Noooo…not Tzippy, I think to myself while clutching at the rack of coats at Macys. Anyone but Tzippy…please, Hashem, make her leave.”
Thoughts race in
my head as I make a beeline for the dressing rooms in order to remain anonymous
in an extremely public place. What is
wrong with you, Baila? Why can’t you just be normal and greet her, pay, and
leave? But I, Baila Drenstein, am not known to listen to my inner voice. So,
if I see Tzippy somewhere, I stand, listen, smile, and nod, until an hour has
gone by, and I’ve missed my ride home. But all’s good because I didn’t let her
down, right?
This would not happen to me again, not now anyway.
So, I run quickly to the dressing room. I know, I know, Tzippy is allowed to be at
Macys just like I am. I mean, it’s erev
Yom Tov. Who isn’t shopping on a Sunday for warm knits, tights, and jackets (despite
Murphey’s Law that you’ll be wearing your summer clothes throughout the chagim).
Now, before you
start judging, I want to get one thing straight. I am not mean, nor am I a
social recluse. I just don’t like Tzippy. Once she starts talking, she doesn’t
stop. She starts with the weather, and then it turns to the seasonal topics,
like the start of school, who our teachers are, how bad the hot dogs were at
hot lunch, and why is my hair in a high pony and not down in a low pony with
the long stiff part in the middle. Why is the sky blue, and why is the grass
green? Do I babysit? Do I want to babysit? Why or why not? And on… and on.
Do you get my
gist?
Ten minutes pass,
and I peek through the curtain in the dressing room. No sign of Tzippy. Phew.
The coast is clear – at least for now. I make my way into the hall and walk
through the racks toward the checkout counter to wait in line. As I wait, my
mind shifts to all the annoying things that happened to me over the weekend.
Shabbos was kind
of nice. I mean, I got together with Malka, Naama, Perela, and Rivka, but as
usual, I ended up hosting a big shaloshudis
for everyone, which turned into a melava
malka. I was happy to do it, really. But the prep for the salads, shopping
for the extra dips, making the desserts, paper goods, cleaning up, and setting
up were enough to put me in hibernation for a year. And I knew that, as history
tends to repeat itself, the same thing would happen next week, and the week
after, for the foreseeable future because that’s just what I do. I feel
terrible saying no. Now that I think of it….
*
* *
Oh…no! My heart sinks.
Pulling my cross-body bag, I scrounge around my purse looking for the hundred-dollar
bill I got for my birthday from Bubby and Zaidy. The cash is nowhere to be
seen, and I think I know where it went. I vaguely remember my sister asking if
she could borrow my birthday money to help fund her Cricut. At the time, I
didn’t mind, but now that I am stuck with no cash, I really do mind. I mind a
lot. It was the Sunday before Yom Tov, and I’m stuck at Macy’s with two skirts
and a top to pay for, without any money, because I was scared to say no to my
sister.
It’s my turn to
pay. Lifting my purse, I empty out the contents on the register: a 10-dollar
bill, two gum wrappers, a hundred random receipts, a two-dollar bill I thought
was cool, so I’ve kept possession of it for the past two years, and 27 cents. I
look up at the cashier pathetically. It is at that moment that I feel someone
tap me on the shoulder.
Tzippy.
My heart almost
pounces out of my chest. Could this day get any worse?
“Hey Baila! What
are you getting? It looks like you did well. Were those on the clearance rack?
Is that shirt three-quarter sleeves or long? Where’d you find those skirts? I
love that color; my favorite color is also maroon. Too bad it’s not within your
color palette….”
She drags on and
on as I look between the cashier and Tzippy, Tzippy and the cashier. “Excuse me
miss,” the cashier chimes in, seemingly noting my discomfort – as if I could
hide my face that was getting beet red. “Are you going to be paying for these
items today?”
And that is when I
take my cue to break Tzippy’s talking streak and respond, “I don’t have enough
cash. I’m going to have to come back another day,” I reply.
Silence. Tzippy
the Talker finally stops her yapping. Silence: It never sounded so good, bad, and
awkward at the same time.
Leaving the items
on the counter, I slowly walk away, past the costume jewlery and handbags. My
older brother would be picking me up in 10 minutes; I had to wait by the
parking lot. Feeling like the ultimate loser, I press the down arrow on the elevator
and wait for it to come.
After two minutes
of beating myself up inside, I feel a tap on the shoulder again. It’s Tzippy.
She holds out her hand, and in it is a crisp, white, new shopping bag. Inside are
all my items.
“Baila, you could
have asked me to borrow money! Ha! I like, never, ever, ever use my birthday
money!! Like, EVER! I hate shopping and am only here ‘cuz my mother dragged me
and insisted I need new shoes for Yom Tov. Obvs I don’t like anything here; you
know me… sneakers are more my style. I only went on the line ‘cuz I saw you
were here, but hel-l-lo-o! Such hashgacha,
no?”
To be honest, I am
shocked and so, so disappointed in myself.
“OMG. Are you
serious? Really? My sister borrowed my $100, but I will get it back to you in
school tomorrow. Please give me the receipt. I can’t believe this, Thank you so
much!” I hear myself say, and we part ways quite quickly after that. Look who is
rambling now!
*
* *
While waiting for
my brother, I feel such a painful guilt, something that I’ve never felt in my
entire life, and just like that, I realize that it was me all along. I did not not
like Tzippy; I just don’t know how to end a conversation abruptly to take care
of my own needs, so I decided I didn’t like her. I don’t know how to set the
boundaries I need to maintain a pleasant friendship. I really didn’t want to
give my birthday money away to my sister; I just felt too bad disappointing
her. I don’t not like having Shabbos
get-togethers with my friends, but it didn’t always need to be at my house. The
burden doesn’t always have to fall on me. I’m just too scared or self-conscious
to let people down.
It was at that
moment that I decided it is time to say yes
to myself more often, which would come at the cost of saying no to others,
sometimes. But it would inevitably bring me closer to so many more people.
Tzippy is such a nice person, more thoughtful than I imagined, nicer than even
I would have been! Being crippled as a people pleaser, I walk around with so
much fear – fear of disappointing others, fear of judgment, fear of
confrontation – when I truly can avoid all those negative feelings by merely
saying yes to myself. I could then have a pleasant relationship with Tzippy,
lend money when I truly feel comfortable doing it, and have the strength to ask
my friends if we could chill at their houses next Shabbos, so I don’t end up
burnt out every weekend.
As Rosh Hashanah
was approaching, I promised myself there and then: I would change. Our teachers
are always talking about finding one middah
to work on during this time of the year and stick to it. I finally found it. This
would be mine.
