DIVERSIFIC

Title: We Make What's Meant-to-be

Author: needled_ink_1975
Fandom: Yentl (1983)
Pairing: Yentl+Anshel/Hadass (it's complicated)
Rating: Gen
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~6,700

Summary: Avigdor brings Hadass a letter, but she doesn't take that letter as Yentl's final word on things. Hadass goes to Lublin where Yentl's about to find out just what kind of meant-to-be she made, where Hadass is concerned.

Disclaimer 1: All recognizable characters belong to Isaac Bashevis Singer, Barwood Films, and MGM/UA. This is a work of fanfiction for the purposes of not-for-profit entertainment, and as such constitutes fair use.
Disclaimer 2: Various lyrics taken from the film were written by Alan and Marilyn Bergman.

A/N 1: The title is taken from a line in the film– Yentl/Anshel: "Nothing's meant-to-be; we make what's meant-to-be."

Acknowledgements
Many thanks go to my dearest editor, La law_nerd.

Per usual, concrit is very welcome and thanks in advance.

Glossary:
Bamidbar — the Book of Numbers
Daven — to pray
Goyim — gentiles
Ma'ariv — evening prayer service
Minchah — afternoon prayer service
Shtetl — a pre-Holocaust market town with a mostly Jewish population
Tallit katan — four-cornered fringed garment worn by Orthodox Jewish men
Tzitzit — knotted threads at each corner of the tallit katan
Yarmulke — a kipa; the skullcap worn by (most) Orthodox Jewish men
_____________________


We Make What's Meant-to-be

I wish there were a way to say
That what she's taught me
Isn't written anywhere,
And I'm supposed to be
The one who's wise.
One thing is certain:
I can never be what she
Expects of me.
~~~~~
Today Hadass and Sophie were baking. The almond cakes were cooling, and their number was already a few less, because they were irresistible. For that reason it was always wise to mix enough batter to make more than enough.

"Though there are never enough..." Hadass said and laughed.

"Not with Anshel around, that's sure," Sophie said.

"He'll be home tomorrow," Hadass said, smiling.

"You haven't told me yet: where am I going to find as nice a husband as yours?"

"You keep asking me that. I'm expecting to come home from a visit somewhere to find you've stolen him away... Was that the bell?"

"Maybe. Sometimes the pull sticks. I must talk to someone about that," Sophie said and made to take off her apron.

"No, I'll go and see," Hadass said.

Even as Hadass walked out of the kitchen, the doorbell sounded again, this time a full Ring-ring! instead of the choked noise she'd heard earlier. She supposed the person there to be a telegram runner, or perhaps someone wanting to speak to her father. Her parents weren't home and had sent word that they intended to stay in Tomashev another week. The air there would do her parents good; the peace here had done and would continue to do Hadass good.

Just in case a telegram was being delivered, Hadass took a few small coins from the hallstand drawer and pocketed them. Her hand was still in her pocket when she opened the door. A man stood there on the second step with his back turned, his cap held in hands clasped behind his back, head bowed slightly as if studying the cobbles of the street beyond the front porch. And of course she knew his shape, his hair, his hands; she knew even the cut of his clothes, and that small pulled thread on the right shoulder of his best coat.

"Avigdor?"

He turned and gave her a smile, but one that faltered, and he bit his lip. Here he was home a full day early, and nowhere was Anshel to be seen. Hadass felt something close around her heart, and the feeling must have reached her face.

"Anshel's all right," Avigdor said quickly.

"But something happened?" Hadass said. She should invite him inside, as was proper, but something was preventing her. She couldn't name it. Instead she said, "You're home early."

"Yes, and yes," he said, and reached inside his coat. He took out an envelope. "You need to read this. Alone. Make sure you're alone. I'll come back in an hour."

Hadass took the envelope and turned it over: blank on both sides, save for sealing-wax that was smooth, likely pressed in place with the bottom of an inkwell or a glass. When she looked up, Avigdor was already halfway across the street. She knew that stride: there would be no stopping him now.

Hadass looked again at the envelope, and stepped back through the door. Her heart was pounding. She might've broken the seal then and there, but she'd not heard Avigdor use that tone before. Hadass hurried upstairs, to the room that was hers and Anshel's.

Many things here were theirs together. Once the desk had been Anshel's alone, but now that, too, was theirs, a place of combined study. Habit drove Hadass to draw the curtains, even though she wasn't about to take any book from a shelf. She sat down and fiddled with the envelope for a while, then slid it over the desk to the edge, and pressed her palm down lightly to break the wax. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded once. She opened it out, and read:

My dearest Hadass–

I made promises to you that I, personally, cannot keep, bar one: I love you. Avigdor loves you still, and the promises I made, I made on his behalf and, if you're willing, he will make good on those promises.

But there I've started at the end. The beginning is even more complicated. The beginning involves a young woman called Yentl, and her overwhelming desire to study...

Hadass' hands were shaking, the paper fluttering almost audibly. She read on even while getting up and going to the door. She called for Sophie and read the last paragraph:

...I'm sorry for any and every hurt I've caused you. I'm sorry for every lie I've told you. But I'm not sorry for the truths: that I love you, that I'm proud of you, that I think you're an even better scholar than Avigdor and me. My Hadass, who observes, who notices every tiny detail– no wonder you're a fine scholar.

I wish you all happiness, and many joys.

I love you always.

–Yentl.

"Yes, I observe and notice every little detail..." Hadass muttered.

"Sorry?" Sophie said in the doorway.

"Never mind. Two things: run and find Avigdor. I think he's gone to his rooms. On the way, find someone to bring me a horse."

"Should I just see if Julia is at home? The hire of a horse is expensive. You can borrow one of hers."

"Yes, try there first—No, better: if Julia's at home, then send her trap to fetch me. I'll have to borrow some of her riding things."

"Now it sounds like you're twelve again," Sophie drawled and jogged away from the door, but just as soon came back. "Where are you going?"

"Lublin," Hadass said, and she was already packing a small carpet bag.

"Your parents will both have fits over this," Sophie warned.

"They're away another week. They needn't know," Hadass said pointedly.

"I'm just the housekeeper– as if I'd invite Reb Alter's wrath, or your mother's wailing over shande. Not a word from me."

Sophie hurried away, and Hadass snorted over that word shande: there'd be a shame-filled scandal, all right, if it came to light that she'd been married more than a year to another woman. Esther Vishkower wouldn't wail over it so much as pass clean out.

Hadass was soon finished with packing, and carried her bag downstairs. She paced while waiting for Avigdor's return, and at the same time scowled at the prospect of stiff muscles: she'd last ridden a horse just four days before her wedding day. Not even Anshel knew about that. Only Sophie knew all the truth. Julia Klosowski was one of Hadass' old school friends. She was Jewish, too, but she'd grown into a woman who was shamelessly secular. These days she continued her late father's occupation of breeding and training horses. As a child, Hadass learned to ride under that kind man's tutelage. She called him 'kind' because he and his wife had taken great pains to ensure that Hadass' parents never found out about the riding lessons. If ever they had, it was likely that they'd have locked Hadass in this house indefinitely.

That thought angered her to the point where she had to set her teeth and take measured breaths through her nose to control it. Just the same as locking the door and drawing the curtains before she studied: riding had to be kept a secret.

"Not anymore," she told herself. "I'm not a child. Not anymore."

The bell was pulled, and Hadass went to open the door. Avigdor glanced at her, then stared.

"Did you think to find me weeping?" Hadass said and tugged on his sleeve.

Avigdor made no answer, but came in and stood holding his cap in both hands. When Hadass gestured at the hatstand, Avigdor obediently placed his cap there. He turned and looked at her a while, stretching the silence until it snapped, and forced him to speak.

"Until now I've never seen you angry, not once."

"I'm expected to hide strong emotions," Hadass said flatly.

Avigdor frowned and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"How long did you know about Anshel?" Hadass asked.

"Until now, only hours, barely a day."

"Really? How is it that men don't see..."

"What do you mean?" Avigdor asked.

"I suspected from the moment Anshel mentioned that we have a beautiful home," Hadass drawled. "Or, I suspected that he was one of those men who love men."

"That would be worse than this," Avigdor muttered.

"Yes, even more confusing for you, you in particular," Hadass said.

He looked at her sharply, and just as quickly looked away.

"That knowledge is also just hours young," Avigdor said, and he looked at her, looked her in the eye. "Suddenly it all made sense, when he—when she explained. But it's sense that others probably can't be made to see... She's going away, has plans to go to America."

"We might all go to America," Hadass said quietly. "Or I can just go and bring him home."

"She can never be Yentl here," Avigdor said.

"Yes, and if he comes back..." Hadass felt her throat tighten. "I realise now that it's possible he doesn't feel for me what I feel for him—"

"You're still speaking of him as a man," Avigdor said. "Yentl, not Anshel. She's a woman."

"I can afford not to care about that, and I don't," Hadass said. "But I do care about the possibility of using the right pronoun in the wrong hearing. After that, short hair and a yarmulke won't be enough to fool anyone."

Avigdor nodded and rubbed his face with both hands. He left them covering his face.

"I love you, I love her. This is a mess."

"I still love you," Hadass said quietly. "If she won't come home, and if she won't hear of us going with her, what then? Will you share my heart?"

"You're willing to share mine?" Avigdor asked.

"We've all three of us been sharing for more than a year," Hadass said with a smile. "So what's new?"

Avigdor smiled then, directly into Hadass' eyes, and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

"She told me you've been studying."

"And I'll continue," Hadass said firmly. After a pause, she said, "I know my husband. There was a letter for me. What other messages?"

"A letter to Rabbi Zalman, and another to Rabbi Shimon, who married you two."

"Do you have them here?"

Avigdor took the letters from a pocket. Hadass practically snatched them.

"I'll be only a few moments."

She took the letters upstairs and locked them in a desk drawer. She hid the key, and went quickly downstairs again.

"Those letters can wait until I've spoken with Anshel," Hadass told Avigdor.

"Agreed."

A clatter of hooves and rattling wheels came from beyond the door.

"I must go," Hadass said.

"I should go with you," he said and reached to take her bag. When she pulled it away, he frowned, saying, "What's the matter?"

"I don't need a chaperone, or a guide. I'm riding to Lublin, and will arrive there two hours sooner than if I sit in a trap."

"Riding? A horse?"

"Astride, even," Hadass said. "Don't faint... Can you ride?"

"No," Avigdor mumbled.

"Then you're definitely not coming with me. Where will I find Anshel?"

"An inn, the one closest to the first synagogue you'll reach, coming from Bechev."

Hadass kissed his cheek, opened the door, and went out without looking back. She took Sophie's place next to the driver of the pony trap. At a twitch of the driver's whip the blinkered pony walked on, and broke into a trot.

Sophie joined Avigdor in the doorway.

"I won't ask anything except—"

"Anshel's all right," Avigdor said.

"Good... We baked almond cakes today. There are several dozen in the kitchen, and fresh bread rolls, and cold roast chicken. Hungry?"

"I am now," Avigdor drawled, but he stood yet, watching the trap down the street. "She's going to ride a horse to Lublin..."

"You come with me, and eat while I tell you about that," Sophie said.
~ ~ ~

Why have the thirst
If not to drink the wine?
And what a waste
To have a taste
Of things that can't be mine.
And tell me where,
Where is it written
What it is I'm meant to be?
~~~~~
It was dark by now, but there had been light enough thrown by the moon, and Hadass had safely reached the outskirts of Lublin. The streets here were lit by gaslights, and it was still early enough for people to be out visiting or simply taking an evening stroll. She stopped a woman walking a small dog, and asked if she was on the right street to find an inn near a synagogue. She asked about a livery stable as well, because she had to find a place for her horse.

"Yes, straight ahead, and almost directly across the street from the inn is a stable. Have you come a long way?"

"A day's ride. Thank you, and good evening."

"Good evening."

'A day's ride' didn't say much, beyond that Hadass had ridden something over twenty miles. The last thing she wanted was for someone to say, "Oh, Bechev? I have relatives there." A surprising number of people tended to have relatives who knew Reb Alter Vishkower.

At the livery stable Hadass watched two grooms for a while, to make sure that the horse would be well taken care of. When she was satisfied, she went out and walked the short way to the inn. It was a good place, quiet and clean, and the innkeep was polite and friendly, and more so when Hadass called Anshel Mendel her husband. The ring was there on her right hand, too, and she'd made a point of taking off her gloves, and resting that hand on the counter where the innkeep could see it. She'd ridden astride, but her long split skirt was cut so elegantly that the split went mostly unnoticed, and she could tell that the innkeep had missed it entirely. She was told to go up the stairs, that the room she wanted was right at the end of the passage.

An age seemed to pass before she stood outside that door. Hadass raised her hand to knock, then snatched it back. It would be easier to walk away. It would be easier, and kinder to herself, especially if Anshel had made up his mind to go away for good; especially if he was honest enough to say that he'd never feel for Hadass what she felt for him. For her, for Yentl. She'd told Avigdor all the truth: she knew, and had known that she loved another woman, and she didn't care. Hadass simply loved the person whose ring she wore, the same person who had opened doors that others had shut firmly in Hadass' face, even before she was born.

She drew a breath and knocked, and waited.

"Yes?"

"It's me."

A key was turned and the door was yanked open. Hadass didn't wait to be invited in. She walked past Anshel, whose clothes proclaimed that he was definitely Anshel, and whose expression was one of shock mingled with trepidation. Anshel closed the door, and locked it, then turned slowly.

"Why did you come here?"

"I'll take you home, or I'll go with you, or if you'll have neither... Well, I want to know," Hadass said.

She dropped her bag at the foot of the bed, and her gloves landed atop the bag. Hadass sat in a straight-backed chair and crossed her legs at the knee. The skirt was borrowed, so were her knee-length boots. She caught Anshel staring at them.

"Yes, I rode here– that skill is my little secret. But that's not important... I've known for months. Didn't you say that I notice many small details?"

Anshel nodded and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I felt a fear that had no name," Hadass said. "Because I never dared think of it for long enough to realise that I feared exactly this."

"That's what I told Avigdor. He reacted... badly, at first."

"That doesn't surprise me. At least I was aware of my love for you. He wasn't: a confusing, even a frightening place to be."

"I'm so sorry," Anshel said softly.

"I'm not," Hadass said, aware that her face was reddening.

"No?"

"No," Hadass said and stood. Anshel did the same and took a step back when Hadass came nearer. "I understand why you chose not to tell Avigdor, at first. But I'm angry, because you could've had the courage to tell me to my face. It was not my place to tell you that I'd guessed the truth. You should've trusted me with that truth. And it's not as if I didn't open the door. I did, didn't I?"

"A few times," Anshel mumbled and gulped.

Hadass took a step closer, and Anshel backed up several steps. A wall pressed too soon against his back. A corner was to his right hand, to his left, a wardrobe: Anshel was stuck.

Hadass came nearer still, until they were only inches apart, but her expression had softened, because her anger was rapidly fading. There were more important things to say.

"'Wither thou goest,'" Hadass quoted quietly. "Even Avigdor is saying that."

The men's clothes, the yarmulke, the tzitzit threads bright white against black gabardine, all meant nothing. For the first time Hadass truly saw Yentl in eyes that brimmed with sudden tears.

"I'll paraphrase what he said: I love you, I love him. It's a mess," Hadass said.

"It's my fault," Yentl said and sniffed.

Hadass traded a handkerchief for Yentl's spectacles, which she pocketed. She led Yentl out of that corner and sat next to her on the bed.

"You knew. You know, and you still love me?" Yentl mumbled.

"Still, and if you go away, I'll not stop."

"But what I meant—"

"I know what you meant," Hadass said. "Yes, still, in a way supposedly sinful. But like studying Talmud, while the neighbors won't understand, I'm sure God will. Although, really, not even God has a say here... You don't feel the same way."

"It's not as simple as that," Yentl said. "If it is, then why did my heart break on Monday morning, when I left you behind?"

"There's all kinds of love, Yentl," Hadass said. "When I was a girl and friends left to go to other schools, my heart broke. Was I in love with them? No."

"I never went to school. Actually, I've never had as many friends as those I've made in the last year. It'll hurt to leave them behind."

"So stay," Hadass whispered. "You love him, he loves you, he loves me, and I love him and you. We can make it work, somehow."

"Now it sounds like you were inside my head, before the wedding," Yentl drawled.

"You're either very brave, or crazy," Hadass giggled.

"Not either; both. I've come to realize that love inspires equal amounts of bravery and craziness. Look at this: I married you to keep him close. Look at this: you rode a horse more than twenty miles? Crazy and brave, and why? Because you love me... I don't think we can make it work, Hadass. Your father, God love him, has enough power to make things difficult here. He's also not stupid: he'll figure out there's something going on between you, me, and Avigdor. It's hard enough just to make it so Avigdor can come to dinner."

"Then what about your idea of going to America?" Hadass said. "I'm your wife. How's my father going to say no to that?"

"And how many people in America will we meet who know who your father is?"

"Surely less than that number of people here," Hadass said and laughed.

"And..." Yentl paused. She swallowed audibly and eventually said, "No, it's not going to work. Avigdor and I argued. He suggested we go away, get married, and as good as said that I can have babies and darn his socks. He said I wouldn't need to study."

"You'd die if you didn't study. He'll realize that," Hadass said.

"Yes, but it'll be an easier realization, and an easier acceptance, if he isn't close to it all. In many ways, he'll find it easier to encourage your studies: he barely knows you, but he'll come to know you as a woman who studies Talmud; a woman with a thirst for knowledge. Me, he barely knows as a woman, and that's who he wants to know. Something like studying together... To Avigdor, study is what made him see me as a man; eventually it'll become a wall between us."

There was no argument that could stand against that statement. Hadass knew it at once for truth that wouldn't be budged. So this was a mess that couldn't be made all the way right. What remained was acceptance, and choices.

Though the first choice Hadass made involved food.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast," she blurted.

"Let's go eat, before you fade away," Yentl said and got up. "My glasses?"

Hadass handed over the spectacles, but remained seated, watching her husband move around the room: fixing her collar in the mirror; shrugging into a jacket; taking out his pocket watch to see the time. From Yentl to Anshel, an almost fluid switch. One day, if anyone else found out about all of this, and if they said that Yentl had fooled people, Hadass would say no, she hadn't fooled anyone.

"You truly are Yentl and Anshel, both, in the same person," Hadass said.

Anshel looked at her, and considered that for a moment. At length he nodded and leaned an elbow on a tall bedpost.

"I've not thought of it that way before, but yes."

"It's almost impossible to ever be Anshel if you're wearing a dress– I can't imagine it," Hadass noted. "But tonight I've met Yentl, in pants."

"I've acquired a great appreciation of pants. And long underwear: no drafts in cold weather."

Hadass laughed and stood, and took the hand Anshel offered. She kept hold of it and used her free hand to tweak Anshel's necktie so that it sat just-so.

"Anshel suits you equally well, perhaps better."

"But I miss being a woman," said Yentl. "I miss being Yentl who never took certain things for granted. In some ways, being Anshel makes a few things too easy. How can I honestly hope that things will change for women, if I don't need those changes myself, just because I wear pants?"

"Have you considered that men only listen to other men?" Hadass said. "As Anshel you can sow seeds in the minds of men, seeds that might grow into a change in the way that those men think about women. You know as well as I do that as a woman, as Yentl, you have little to no chance of success in that regard, no matter where you go."

Yentl stared off into middle-distance, frowning, deep in thought. Hadass had seen that expression so often, and here there was no difference: this expression belonged to Yentl and Anshel both.

Hadass still had hold of her husband's hand, and she noted to herself that these moments represented the longest period of sustained physical contact between them. There might be a lot more of that, later, unless Anshel chose to sleep on the floor—No, Yentl might choose to sleep on the floor. Hadass thought back and analyzed: whenever she'd been told "You have the right to refuse me" that had been Yentl speaking; whenever Hadass had been given compliments on her appearance, that had been Anshel speaking. Hadass battled away a smile, and she squeezed the hand she held, gaining her husband's attention.

"Mmm?" said Yentl.

"Let's go and eat, husband," Hadass said.

"Oh. Right..."

A squaring of the shoulders; a slight change to the set of the jaw; brows drawn in a little: Yentl made way for Anshel, and Anshel led his wife out of the room and downstairs to dinner.
~ ~ ~

She's mother,
She's sister,
She's lover...
She's the wonder of wonders,
No man can deny.
So why would he change her?
She's loving, she's tender;
She's woman,
So am I.
~~~~~
There'd been little conversation over dinner in the inn's common room. The food was good, and good food attracted a crowd, one that couldn't be allowed to overhear the sort of conversation that Hadass wanted to have with Anshel. At the same time, the silence between them was companionable, not even a little tense.

The tension arrived when they returned to the room that didn't afford them so much as a dressing screen; the room with just one bed. And when they entered that room they both stood and stared accusingly at the solitary bed.

"I... I'll sleep on the floor," Yentl said. "And I'll go out a while, so you can change your clothes."

Her hand was already reaching for the doorknob. Hadass reached it first, and took out the key. She wagged it at Yentl.

"No."

"No? No-what, what 'no' is this?" Yentl mumbled and tried to get the key.

Hadass laughed and held it above her head. She was a little taller. Yentl would have to jump to get the key, but when she tried, Hadass planted her hand in the middle of Yentl's chest and pushed her back.

"No. If you insist on sleeping on the floor, all right, but I'm tired, and we neither of us will be silly now."

She deliberately returned the key to the keyhole, and straightaway went to a mirror to remove a pin from her cravat, and the pins and ribbons in her hair followed. She turned and found Yentl scowling. Hadass sat on the bed and hitched one leg of the split riding skirt. She pointed at her boot.

"I forgot to bring a bootjack, so I need help to get these things off."

"They're cavalry cut. I remember, my father had a pair that he gave to someone."

"You sound... annoyed about that."

"Who wouldn't want a pair of boots like this?" Yentl muttered and yanked off the boot. She hauled off the other one, too, and set it beside the first. "I suppose I could order myself a pair..."

"As long as it's Anshel doing the ordering, yes," Hadass said. "You met Julia once. Well, Julia has a longstanding business relationship with a saddler, and he's the go-between to ensure that she gets boots that supposedly should only be worn by men. Women's riding boots are designed for those who ride sidesaddle."

"I've always thought that looked dangerous," Yentl said.

"It is dangerous. If the horse takes a fall, the two leg-horns can hold you in the saddle, and if that happens, you can't throw yourself safely to one side. What usually happens then is that you fall with the horse, and if he rolls over you... Broken legs, broken pelvis, broken back, maybe."

Yentl's only comment was a horrified expression. Hadass began to unbutton her jacket and gestured with her free hand.

"We're forced to take risks like that, because many men call it 'immodest' if we ride astride. Outside of our world, outside of the shtetl, women of the goyim are rejecting those ideas. They're riding astride, wearing gorgeous skirts like this one. Is the cut not the most elegant?"

Her jacket was open, but when Hadass stood and the skirt fell to hang to her ankles, it was the fabric's rich heaviness, and that elegant length that immediately drew the eye. Yentl took a proper look at it, stepping left, then right.

"I don't have the right words—I've never had the right words for clothes, but I think it's the straightness, how it makes the lower half of you seem like a column."

"Those words are good enough, and yes, you're right. I'm starting to see fewer bustles in skirts, and a narrower cut, and that new style of skirt is mirroring this one, without the split."

While she'd spoken, Hadass had discarded her jacket, and the skirt soon was laid on the bed. She heard Yentl giggle, and she guessed the reason.

"Of course I'm wearing long underwear. As you said: no drafts. They also stop chafing while riding... And stop standing there. I'm more tired tonight than I usually am after hours of cooking on Fridays."

Hadass decided not to pay Yentl any more attention. She finished undressing and tugged on a nightdress that was creased from being hastily stuffed into her bag. She laid her clothes over the chair and turned to get into the bed, but stopped. Yentl had her back turned, and had just slipped off her shirt, and Hadass stood rooted a moment, staring at what she could see of the linen binding Yentl's breasts. She hadn't thought about that, about how Yentl might be hidden away in order that Anshel might come to the fore.

And she hadn't really been aware of stepping closer, but here she was, and before Yentl could fiddle loose the knot below her right arm, Hadass had dealt with it. She didn't say anything, and noted a slight hesitation in Yentl before she worked briskly to rid herself of the binding. Hadass passed a nightshirt over Yentl's shoulder.

"How did you hide that from me?"

"By learning to be quick, behind the screen in our room," Yentl said and pulled on the shirt. She stood still for some time, then turned, and said, "I should've trusted you, but... But sometimes you scared me. You fell in love with me, and how would you have reacted—"

"I fell in love with you," Hadass said quietly. "But it was hard to say that to the person who was frightened of how I'd react. Even if I'd spelled it out, I don't think you'd have heard me, or believed me."

"Maybe not," Yentl said. "But even now..."

"You're in love with Avigdor, not me."

"Yes, but I... I love you, too."

"I know," Hadass said and smiled. "I know, and no-one has loved me in a better way."

"Avigdor—"

"He loves his idea of me," Hadass stated. "I still love him, but I'm not going to allow him to refashion me into that idea, his idea of the ideal bride."

Yentl snorted a short laugh, and Hadass smirked.

"It's all your fault."

"I'm proud of that one," Yentl said, grinning. Then her expression sobered, and she said, "This whole business isn't a laughing matter. Now you know all the truth, you're party to my every transgression."

"I'll repeat what you once said: don't talk old wives' tales," Hadass said. "Honestly now, what do you think God cares about more? Women being kept in the place men want them to be, or women like you and me devoting large parts of our lives to the study of the Law? You know as well as I do that more than half the prohibitions against women are not anything God would've bothered with. Admit it."

"That's easy: yes, agreed," Yentl said.

"And it's no wonder that men have forbidden women from studying: with study comes comprehension. That comprehension demands that we question everything, and we start to realise that nearly all the bans and prohibitions stem from misinterpreted exemptions. And those exemptions? We just can't do two things at once; I can't read from the Torah or daven and at the same time cook a meal for guests, unless my kitchen gets moved to the synagogue. But I can attend minchah or ma'ariv services if I don't have to cook. If I can, then I should. Knowing that, and yet there's a ban on calling on women to read; knowing that, and yet a woman cannot pray publicly... It feels awful."

Yentl had been nodding in agreement, and now she pointed across the room, to where her tallit katan lay folded on a small table.

"This was the first serious, law-related question I asked my father," Yentl said. "Here it is. Why can only men wear tzitzit, when those threads and knots are meant to remind every Jew of all the commandments, all six-hundred-and-thirteen? Bamidbar, chapter fifteen, verses thirty-eight to forty, regarding tzitzit, the commandment is given to all the Children of Israel; every one is commanded to wear the fringed garment, and not only every male... How did it come to this? Why did it come to the point where women are excluded?"

"You want my personal opinion?" Hadass asked.

"Yes, tell me," Yentl said.

"Men like to feel special," Hadass said. "Really, it's true. Every morning their prayer ends in a way that makes them feel special– 'shelo asani isha': thank you for not making me a woman. To feel special, someone has to be less than them. Men must be grateful for all their many obligations, all their many privileges: in order to feel privileged, they must compare, and we are less privileged and we're kept less privileged... Yentl, there's nothing to be gained by wearing skirts again. Nothing. You can only be sure that most of what you've gained will be taken away, again."

"Yes, I know," Yentl murmured and bit at her lip. Tears welled in her eyes anyway.

"Don't think about it now; it's late," Hadass said. "Come to bed. I promise I'll behave. I'm too tired to do anything else."

"All right. At least it's not a small bed. I shared Avigdor's bed, my first night in Bechev, and I lay right on the edge. Every time I dozed off, bang! I fell out... And then, night before last, he slept on the floor."

"Silly. Come here."

Hadass was holding the covers open. Yentl hesitated a little, then took the blanket edges and climbed into bed. Hadass gave her room, even though what she wanted most was to snuggle up. She had vague memories of being warm and safe in her mother's bed. She couldn't remember if she'd grown out of going to crawl in with her mother, or if that had eventually been disallowed.

Yentl turned out the lamp, and also turned onto her side, with her back to Hadass.

"Goodnight."

"Sleep well," Hadass said.

She might've lain awake thinking about what it might've been like, had Yentl chosen not to turn her back, but Hadass was beyond weary, and sleep claimed her quickly.
~ ~ ~

Oh, tell me where,
Where is the someone
Who will turn to look at me?
And want to share
My every sweet imagined possibility?
~~~~~
Hadass had woken to find herself snugged against Yentl's back, with an arm around her waist, and Yentl was holding her hand, still fast asleep. But Yentl woke soon, and tensed up, barely breathing.

"Tsk!" Hadass clucked her tongue and laughed quietly. "I'm not going to bite."

"I suppose this is nice," Yentl said, and relaxed a little. To her credit, she hadn't yet let go of Hadass' hand. "Just... strange."

"Not really strange; just new... Now's a good time, I suppose, to talk about what you'll do."

Yentl shifted and Hadass took away her arm. She did as Yentl was doing, and arranged her pillows against the headboard. They sat side-by-side, with only a small gap between. Silence. Hadass decided both to take the lead, and be brave and grownup about it all. It still took a few moments before she was able to say:

"I suppose it can work, for the three of us, if you go away."

"Letters take only a month from America," Yentl said, nodding. "It's not the three of us all together, but... But can you even picture that?"

"I don't need to," Hadass said. "We've spent hours together, you, me, and Avigdor. I need only remember."

"Lovely memories..." Yentl murmured.

Hadass nodded, smiling, even though it seemed her heart was tearing itself to bits.

"You'll be taking some of me with you, you know. That part belongs to you, and no-one else."

"Wouldn't you rather give that little part to Avigdor, too?" Yentl asked.

"I've already told him that he'll have to share my heart."

"You did? What did he say?"

"He asked if I was willing to share his with you," Hadass said. "And I said that we've all been sharing that way for a while now. That will continue, just with some changes... I'll miss sharing your life; I'll miss that as much as I'll miss you."

She didn't dare to look at Yentl now. Even a few tears would easily lead to sobbing. A stillness came between them, and Hadass became aware that Yentl was looking at her. Hadass raised her eyes from her fidgeting fingers.

"What is it?" she asked, still biting back tears.

"I keep asking myself, who will want to share my life?" Yentl said. "I've been asking that for months."

"I'm just... I'm the wrong answer." Hadass had needed all her courage to say as much.

"But who's the right answer?" Yentl said. "If I was a fool I'd say Avigdor. I'm not a fool. He wants, as you said last night, his idea of what a woman should be. Most men want the same."

"Yes," Hadass said simply. She took a few moments to think first, then said, "You have a right to leave if you feel that's best, so the choice isn't mine to make, but if I could, I'd choose you."

Yentl stared at her, unblinking, lips slightly parted: speechless. Hadass might've laughed. After all, this was the first and only time her husband had ever been short of words in the last year. She was about to say something to that effect, but Yentl abruptly got out of bed, and paced to the other side of the room, then back. She stood silent a while, then rubbed a hand over her face and dragged her fingers through her hair. She looked Hadass in the eye.

"How can I throw that away?"

"Perhaps I shouldn't have said—" Hadass began.

"No, I needed to be told," Yentl said. "I've just assumed that I'm not what you want, that I'm—I can't give you children."

"Avigdor might give me children, but children cannot be a woman's only joy," Hadass said. "They might end up being my only joy, because he's not you. Every freedom you've given me, I will have to take from him, probably with a fight."

Yentl's mouth dropped open, and she sat with a bump on the edge of the bed.

"Sometimes the truth is like that– knocks you down..." Hadass said quietly. "And that is the truth; it's my truth, which you helped to make... I'm not what Avigdor thinks I am, Yentl, and like I said last night, I'll not allow him to reshape me to suit himself. So where does that leave me?"

"Unhappy, or alone, or both," Yentl said. "And that's my fault, too."

"Yes," Hadass said. "But I'd rather be who I am today, than the woman Avigdor would've helped to keep simple."

Yentl nodded and got up, and paced a little, then came and settled on the bed again.

"I can't throw your love in your face. I just can't," Yentl almost whispered. "I'm not in love with you, but I don't think that that would be much of a leap."

"But it might be, and if it is?"

"I'm still a yeshiva student, not the sage of all sages," Yentl drawled. "My best answer is, I don't know. Yet. Hopefully I won't find out. Hopefully we can make this work... Though there's nothing written about how."

"I know who to ask, and I will," Hadass said. "If Julia doesn't know, then she'll know someone who does."

"Oh," said Yentl, who'd met Julia Klosowski only once. "She's very... worldly."

"Mmm," Hadass agreed, giggling.

Yentl got up and paced around yet again. Hadass watched her and saw that little shift in the set of her shoulders, and the gradual change in expression: Yentl giving way to Anshel. Hadass wished that she could read her husband's mind, but remembered that she could ask instead, and did:

"Tell me what you're thinking?"

"I'm trying to come up with a way to tell Avigdor to find himself another wife," Anshel said. "Because he can't have mine."

Hadass laughed, at first quietly, then just as hard as she had on their wedding night.

_____Ω_____

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