knew what to say.”
“At first I thought Rava was exaggerating your prowess,” Abaye said, his voice full of admiration.
“Very impressive,” Em said. “With only two women doing this in Pumbedita, no wonder everyone came to watch.”
I waited for Rava to offer some words of praise, but instead he said, “I’m going directly from Rav Yosef to Rav Oshaiya today. So I won’t be there for the evening meal.”
The one person’s approval I wanted, I didn’t get.
• • •
When the next day’s services were over, Homa gave me a fierce hug. “Issi slept so well last night that my brother says you were worth every zuz he paid you.”
I made sure to look more confident than relieved. “I’m pleased to have helped.”
During our meal, Homa regaled Babata and Elisheva with what I considered an overly vivid description of my exhibition the day before. I blushed at her enthusiasm, but inside I was filled with pride. It was good that Homa had lost her shyness.
Afterward, she took me to Millers Street, which for some unknown reason was marked by signs with cats on them. Though the docks were only a short distance away, Homa refused to go there. “When it comes to harassing women, dockworkers are the worst,” she explained. “I’d rather go to Bakers Street and see what pastries are left.”
I grinned, for I could smell Bakers Street from a block away. “I assume we’re not just going to look at them.”
Homa introduced me as the enchantress who had driven the demons away from her brother’s house. To my embarrassment, all sorts of sweet cakes were promptly thrust upon us. I cringed at being unable to decline without insulting the bakers, who refused to accept any payment.
“In the future, be careful how you introduce me to merchants.” I made my voice resolute. “People mustn’t think I’m trying to obtain goods without paying for them.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist telling them about you.”
Homa said nothing more until we neared her home. “I wish I had a respected profession like yours. Especially since I’m not likely to have another husband or more children.”
I squeezed her hand in sympathy, but before I could say anything, she turned to me, an eager look in her eyes. “Could you teach me to be a charasheta ? I know how to read and write.”
I tried to let her down gently. “It requires more than being literate.” I searched for the right words. “A charasheta has to be favored by the angels if they are to do her will.”
Homa might have been unlucky, but she wasn’t stupid. “I understand. My mazal is so wretched I would probably attract demons instead of making them flee.”
I suddenly thought of Elisheva. “Can you read and write well enough to teach someone?”
She looked at me with a puzzled expression “Yes. I’m teaching my daughter already.”
“Could you take another student? Abaye’s daughter?”
“She is about the same age as my Dorti, so I suppose I could teach them both.”
“Then, I will ask him tonight.” I could scarcely contain my enthusiasm.
• • •
As I’d expected, Abaye was agreeable, but Rava certainly wasn’t.
Homa must have noticed his displeasure as well, because when she arrived on Sixth Day, she said to Em, “Perhaps it would be better if Dorti and I left early so my presence won’t disturb Rava when he and Abaye review their studies.”
Em sighed. “It has nothing to do with you. This is the Shabbat when Rava visits his wife in Machoza.”
Homa looked at her in confusion. “But isn’t he eager to . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Babata explained it diplomatically. “Some men are less fond of their wives than others.”
“And some wives have such a high ketuba payment that their husbands can’t afford to divorce them even if they are not fond of them,” Em said, summing up the situation.
“Surely he is eager to see his children,” Homa said.
I shook my head. “They don’t have any.”
“It
“At first I thought Rava was exaggerating your prowess,” Abaye said, his voice full of admiration.
“Very impressive,” Em said. “With only two women doing this in Pumbedita, no wonder everyone came to watch.”
I waited for Rava to offer some words of praise, but instead he said, “I’m going directly from Rav Yosef to Rav Oshaiya today. So I won’t be there for the evening meal.”
The one person’s approval I wanted, I didn’t get.
• • •
When the next day’s services were over, Homa gave me a fierce hug. “Issi slept so well last night that my brother says you were worth every zuz he paid you.”
I made sure to look more confident than relieved. “I’m pleased to have helped.”
During our meal, Homa regaled Babata and Elisheva with what I considered an overly vivid description of my exhibition the day before. I blushed at her enthusiasm, but inside I was filled with pride. It was good that Homa had lost her shyness.
Afterward, she took me to Millers Street, which for some unknown reason was marked by signs with cats on them. Though the docks were only a short distance away, Homa refused to go there. “When it comes to harassing women, dockworkers are the worst,” she explained. “I’d rather go to Bakers Street and see what pastries are left.”
I grinned, for I could smell Bakers Street from a block away. “I assume we’re not just going to look at them.”
Homa introduced me as the enchantress who had driven the demons away from her brother’s house. To my embarrassment, all sorts of sweet cakes were promptly thrust upon us. I cringed at being unable to decline without insulting the bakers, who refused to accept any payment.
“In the future, be careful how you introduce me to merchants.” I made my voice resolute. “People mustn’t think I’m trying to obtain goods without paying for them.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist telling them about you.”
Homa said nothing more until we neared her home. “I wish I had a respected profession like yours. Especially since I’m not likely to have another husband or more children.”
I squeezed her hand in sympathy, but before I could say anything, she turned to me, an eager look in her eyes. “Could you teach me to be a charasheta ? I know how to read and write.”
I tried to let her down gently. “It requires more than being literate.” I searched for the right words. “A charasheta has to be favored by the angels if they are to do her will.”
Homa might have been unlucky, but she wasn’t stupid. “I understand. My mazal is so wretched I would probably attract demons instead of making them flee.”
I suddenly thought of Elisheva. “Can you read and write well enough to teach someone?”
She looked at me with a puzzled expression “Yes. I’m teaching my daughter already.”
“Could you take another student? Abaye’s daughter?”
“She is about the same age as my Dorti, so I suppose I could teach them both.”
“Then, I will ask him tonight.” I could scarcely contain my enthusiasm.
• • •
As I’d expected, Abaye was agreeable, but Rava certainly wasn’t.
Homa must have noticed his displeasure as well, because when she arrived on Sixth Day, she said to Em, “Perhaps it would be better if Dorti and I left early so my presence won’t disturb Rava when he and Abaye review their studies.”
Em sighed. “It has nothing to do with you. This is the Shabbat when Rava visits his wife in Machoza.”
Homa looked at her in confusion. “But isn’t he eager to . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Babata explained it diplomatically. “Some men are less fond of their wives than others.”
“And some wives have such a high ketuba payment that their husbands can’t afford to divorce them even if they are not fond of them,” Em said, summing up the situation.
“Surely he is eager to see his children,” Homa said.
I shook my head. “They don’t have any.”
“It
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