Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Okay.” I grab a plate and put a small croissant on it. “Want one?” I offer, and she shakes her head.
“Why’d you bring him up?”
“Who?” I say, unable to resist driving her a little crazy.
“Lenny!” She waves her hands impatiently. “The man you just mentioned.”
“Oh, right.” I nod. “I ran into him a few weeks ago. He says hi, by the way.”
“He did?” She tilts her head and gazes at me doubtfully. “Lenny Horowitz?”
“The very one,” I say. “I mentioned your name and his face lit up.” In anger, but no need to mention that. I take a bite and finish chewing before adding, “He said you were his first love.”
Her face morphs from suspicion and doubt to a blushing woman talking about her crush. “What a sap,” she says, hiding her smile beneath her napkin. She clears her throat. “What else did he say?”
“That he caught you shtupping Ernie Schlossinger on his birthday.”
Bernice sighs and puts down the napkin. “Don’t tell me he’s still mad about that, all these decades later.”
“Can I ask you something, Bernice?”
“Is it about what I’m leaving to you in my will?”
I decide to ignore that. “Why did you cheat on Lenny?”
“Why does anyone cheat?” She shrugs. “I was an immature idiot. I had had a crush on Ernie since junior high, even though he ignored me at every opportunity. But by twelfth grade, I’d grown some curves and learned how to do my hair and makeup. And guess what happened?”
“Ernie finally noticed you.”
“No, but Lenny did. And he was so funny and oh, did we laugh together.” She smiles to herself. “And the truth is that I loved Lenny, I truly did. But I couldn’t manage to get rid of the idea that Ernie was the one I was destined to be with.”
“The guy who ignored you for years?”
“He once asked to borrow a pencil,” she says. “We made eye contact. It was intense.”
“The eye contact?”
“Stop interrupting me, already. I’m trying to tell you what happened.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I murmur, hiding my smile behind the rim of my mug.
“Anyway. He and Lenny had some friends in common, and pretty soon, we all started hanging out together. And I admit, I might’ve crossed the line a few times.”
“What do you mean?”
“I flirted with him, you know, the way girls and boys do.”
“Sure,” I say, even though I don’t actually know. I never had male classmates or played with boys, except for Caleb, but flirting had never crossed our minds. Although recently . . .
“I suggested we go skinny dipping,” she continues, “just the two of us, this one time—”
“I don’t think that’s flirting, Bernice,” I cut in. “I think that’s outright propositioning.”
She scowls. “Didn’t I tell you not to interrupt me?”
“Sorry.” I mentally roll my eyes. “Do continue.”
“And he brushed me off every time. Until he got drunk at Lenny’s birthday party. I was wearing a cute little polka dot minidress and we were sitting next to each other on the couch, and his fingers skimmed the edge of my dress, near the top of my thigh—”
“Lah lah lah, I can’t hear you,” I say loudly, and plug my fingers in my ears.
“You’re such a prude.” Bernice bats her hand. “Anyway, one thing led to another, and Lenny came to find me when it was time to cut the cake. That’s when he discovered us on his parents’ bed, with me sucking—”
“Aagghh! STOP.”
“Lenny had a similar reaction.” She nods. “But angrier.”
“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. No wonder he had such a hostile reaction when I brought up her name. “That’s like the worst birthday ever.”
“I’m not going to defend myself,” she says. “I was young and stupid.”
“And selfish,” I murmur under my breath.
“Yes, thank you, Ashira,” she says in a clearly sarcastic voice. “But I learned my lesson. And anyway,” she shrugs, “it all ended up for the best. I met my Saul, and Lenny met his . . .”
“Betty.”
Bernice nods. “Was she with him when you ran into him?”
“No, she passed away. But I knew her well when I was a child. I knew both of them, in fact.”
Bernice gazes at me in askance. “What are you talking about?
“My dad’s mom volunteered for the Chevra Kadisha and I’d go with her. W hile she was doing her thing in the basement, Betty, and sometimes Lenny, would babysit me.”
“Huh.” She shakes her head. “Small world.” She stands up to bring her plate to the sink, but I intervene in case she steps on something and trips. “What was she like?” Bernice asks, sitting back down.
“Betty?” She nods. “She was wonderful. Nice to everyone. She didn’t leave the house much, but she had a lot of friends. They’d come over and play card games. Those women could talk for hours.” I smile, remembering it all. “And she kept a special container of kosher snacks just for me.”
An unreadable expression flitters across Bernice’s eyes, but it was too fleeting to decipher. “She sounds nice. I’m glad for him.”
“But,” I add, “he seems pretty lonely now.”
“Don’t get any ideas about setting me up with him,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m probably the last person on earth he’d want to date.”
And I can’t help but notice her phrasing, and that she didn’t say she wasn’t interested, only that she was sure he wouldn’t be. And although he claims that to be true, I’m not convinced that it is.
In fact, I think Lenny never got over Bernice, and I think Lenny is exactly what Bernice needs to get back on her feet—and back in her heels.