Rebecca loved her shoes. All of them.

She wished it were otherwise. In theory, she didn’t want an entire closet stacked with shelf upon shelf upon shelf of fine leather footwear. But each pair was beautiful in its own way, or reminded her of a particular day, or a wondrous event, or a magnificent sale. And as much as she wanted to reduce her shoe collection, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Such memories.

Those Capezio satin pumps, with the killer 3-inch heels? She wore those to Sandy’s daughter’s wedding.

The Bandolino slingback sandals, with the cutesy bows? She wore those on the vacation getaway to Palm Beach, just her and Don.

The DKNY patent leather flats? Those would always remind her of the weekend in Boston, when Carly went for her Brandeis college interview.

And the Enzo Angiolini suede mules? Those will forever be associated in her mind with that killer sale at Nordstrom. What a steal.

But with the economy the way it was, and her lack of further storage space for her babies, Rebecca had imposed a moratorium on any more shoe purchases. Don was certainly in agreement. After all, the man had only five pairs of shoes in the entire world. He was such a Neanderthal.

Rebecca was in Macy’s to pick up pajamas for her son Mark. His old flannels had holes in them, and he was growing so fast his jammies were practically up to his knees. She had to cut through the shoe department to get to the escalator, and besides, it doesn’t cost anything to look.

There they were.

It wasn’t a dream. The boots were just sitting there, right on the shelf. Like no one else had seen them yet. Jet black, Steve Madden pointy-toed, knee high boots, with 3-inch heels, a suede upper, and side-zip closure. And in her size.

She would try them on, just for fun.

Perfect.

It wouldn’t hurt to look at the price tag.

Rebecca looked both ways to make sure no one was watching, and turned over the boot to take a peek.

Oh no.

There was no way.

Was it a mistake?

Who cares? If Macy’s wanted to be robbed blind, who was she to argue?

She was in and out of the checkout line in less than a minute. It was so easy. Just a swipe of her credit card—a simple flick of her wrist—and they were hers, all hers. Just wait until she told her friend Lizzie. She was going to die of jealousy.

Rebecca went to her car and drove home. Mark would get his pajamas another day. He didn’t care any way. If it were up to him, he would sleep every night in his tidy whities.

She didn’t tell Don about the boots. Why should she? It was a free world, and on most budgetary issues, she was quite fiscally conservative. Shoes were another matter, of course, but hey, nobody’s perfect. Rebecca knew that Don sneaked frequent Hershey bars, and the man had high cholesterol, for goodness’ sake. Who was he to give her a hard time about self-control?

Friday night Rebecca slipped them on, zipped them up, and wore them to Shabbat dinner. They felt so good, like a natural extension of her skin. Everyone came home from shul, pulled off their coats and took their seats at the table. Rebecca tried to be nonchalant.

“Wow, Mom, nice boots.” Darn. Carly gave her away.

“What boots?” Don asked. She could already hear the pain in his voice.

“Oh, these? I’ve had them for years.”

“Nice try, Becks, but I’m not buying it.”

“No, really.” She felt like a child.

“I saw the Macy’s box in the bedroom.”

“Oh, that. I can explain.”

Don sighed. “What are we going to do with you?”

“You know, Dad,” Mark said. “Mommy is just like Pharaoh in this week’s parsha.”

“Great, now I’m not only suffering from a shoe obsession, but I’m like the king who enslaved the Jews?”

“What are you talking about, Mark?”

“Well, in Va’eira, Hashem tells Moshe that he is going to harden Pharaoh’s heart so that he doesn’t let the Jews leave Egypt, even though the Egyptians suffered through all the plagues. Rabbi Weiner suggested that Hashem would never take away Pharaoh’s free will to make his own decisions, but that Pharaoh developed an obsession with enslaving the Jews, and the more desperate the situation became, the more it took hold of him. It was a personality flaw that he couldn’t stop. God didn’t force him to resist liberating the Jewish people, but He knew what would happen based on Pharaoh’s unique personality.”

“Very interesting, Mark.”

“Thanks. And Mom is the same way.”

“I know I’m not going to like this…”

“Her heart is hardened against resisting shoe purchases. She is obsessed with shoe buying, even if it leads to her eventual downfall.”

“Or the downfall of our family or the entire Jewish people,” Don added.

“Or even the whole world!” Carly added.

“That’s quite enough,” Rebecca said.

“Well, it’s true,” Don said. “You have a hardened heart, hardened like shoe leather.”

“I can change. The Israelites were eventually given permission by Pharaoh to leave Egypt.”

“Yes, after Makat Bechorot, the Plague of the First Born,” Mark observed.

“I hope it doesn’t go that far,” Don said.

“Yes, but God let Pharaoh have free will, so I have free will as well. I can choose to stop.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Don admitted.

“So then I’m stopping. No more shoes for the rest of the year.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Don said.

“And I’ll even return these magnificent boots.”

“I’m impressed,” Don said.

Tears were welling up in Rebecca’s eyes. She tried not to cry.

“Okay, okay. Keep the boots. You can start tomorrow.”

“You’re the greatest, Honey.”

“Free will at its best,” Mark observed.

No one knew what to say to that, so they made Kiddush and began the meal.

Larry Stiefel is a pediatrician at Tenafly Pediatrics.

By Larry Stiefel