Chapter Twenty-Seven
It takes some time to get Caleb’s and Tamar’s schedules lined up, but here I am a week later, lying in wait for the couple to arrive.
Although the date isn’t taking place in a dojo or battlefield, I spent a good thirty minutes over the phone with Caleb, coaching him on what not to say.
Then he spent the next ten minutes trying to convince me not to worry.
But Caleb is like one of those psychological whodunnit thrillers where you’re constantly wondering what you’re missing and whose narrative you can trust.
Luckily, we reached a compromise regarding me third-wheeling the date and Caleb agreed to allow me to wear a disguise of my choice.
I check the time on my phone. They should be coming into the coffee shop any minute now.
I texted him to sit in the back corner near the restrooms by the sweet, little old lady in the corner—gray wig, red glasses, and a cane for me today.
I’m slightly concerned about the false nose because I’ve already had to reshape it twice, and the second time, I’m pretty sure some of it melted into my coffee.
The café door opens and almost immediately, the energy changes. Heads turn. Three sinfully beautiful people stride inside with the confidence that only sinfully beautiful people seem to possess. I take out my phone and send a storm of angry emojis to Caleb followed by a text.
WHAT THE HELL???!!! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, ACTUALLY I DON’T CARE, JUST GET RID OF CASANOVA ASAP!!!!!!!!
Tamar and Casanova sit down at the table directly in front of mine and I drum my fingers impatiently as Caleb takes their orders.
He then has the audacity to throw me a wink before turning and heading toward the counter.
I glare holes into his back as he takes his place in line. Finally, he glances at his phone.
Calm down
DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN MOTHERFUCKER
He turns around and gives me A Look. I pretend to adjust my glasses with my middle finger.
We had a meeting right before this and he said he was getting coffee anyway. And in case Tamar and I don’t hit it off, maybe she and Casanova will.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME???!!!!!!!! WHAT, YOU’RE PLAYING MATCHMAKER NOW??????
You never know
WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??!!!
The barista calls his name and I put my phone down.
Casanova is sitting back in his chair looking bored and a little pissed off—although I’m pretty sure that’s his resting face—and Tamar keeps stealing nervous glances at him, like he’s a dangerous animal that could strike at any moment.
This whole thing is absolutely ridiculous.
How are Caleb and Tamar supposed to have a normal date with Casanova hovering between them like a stormy thundercloud?
Caleb returns to the table with three drinks, studiously avoiding looking my way. I try to think of a clever way to get rid of Casanova that doesn’t involve dragging him out by his shirt collar.
“Everyone good?” Caleb asks, arranging his chair so his back is to me.
Tamar nods and blushes. I’ve never seen a man possess the ability to make women blush just by looking at them. There’s a business to be made somewhere in that.
“Mine taste like penicillin,” Casanova grunts. Caleb laughs, Tamar looks uncertain, and I tilt my head back and groan.
“He’s going through withdrawal,” Caleb explains to Tamar. “I cut him off sugar for his own good.”
I try not to smirk and fail. At least I’m not the only one that’s getting health lessons.
“Ooh that’s rough,” Tamar says sympathetically as she glances at Casanova. “How long has it been?”
“An hour,” he replies, and I accidentally bark in laughter. The three of them turn to me and I quickly pretend to be absorbed in my phone.
“I try cutting sugar before, but I keep cheating,” Casanova adds.
“Don’t worry, I’m watching you,” Caleb says, then turns to Tamar. “It helps to have someone keep you accountable. Although, I’ve got this one friend who is really difficult about it,” he adds. “I have to keep constant tabs on her otherwise she’d eat nothing but hot dogs and potato chips.”
I take a slow sip of my sugary latte. Why do I get the feeling he’s talking about me?
“You’re friends with a woman?” Tamar is surprised and I guess I can’t blame her. Not many people in our community are friends with the opposite gender.
“Yeah. We’ve been friends since we were kids. We grew up together.”
“Oh. That’s interesting.”
“It’s our matchmaker actually,” he says.
I facepalm because why?!
“She’s very pretty,” Tamar says after a slight pause.
“I never noticed,” Caleb says, and Casanova chuckles. I scowl at both of them.
“Did you guys ever . . .” She makes a hand motion and trails off.
I blush, glad he’s not facing me.
“No.” Caleb shakes his head. “She wanted to, of course. Begged me several times in fact, but I’ve always let her down gently.”
My drink goes down the wrong way and I start coughing and pounding my chest. Casanova gives me a bored, slightly annoyed gaze. He’d make a great ER doctor, this one.
“Poor Ashira,” Tamar sighs. “It must be painful for her to set you up with other women.”
“I’m sure it is,” Caleb agrees.
Still coughing, I type out a message to Caleb just to let him know what I think of that.
Not funny
I hear his small chuckle, and then he clears his throat. “So, Tamar, how are you liking New York? You’re from Chicago, right?”
“Yes. Skokie,” she replies. “It’s okay. I’m a little homesick, though. And my rent just went up, so I started looking for an even worse place to live. Somewhere with even more cockroaches and rats.”
I try not to laugh. Poor thing.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Caleb says.
“I know French girl who wants roommate,” Casanova says in his thick accent. “Is basement apartment, but a little better than sewer,” he adds, as if that’s a selling point.
But Tamar must be desperate because her pretty face lights up. “Really?” She brightens. “That sounds perfect, thank you!”
I take a long slurp of my drink as they exchange phone numbers and try to comfort myself with the fact that finding Tamar a place to live is still a mitzvah, just not the kind I had intended.
Casanova then rattles off something in Arabic to Caleb and then Caleb responds in Hebrew, and soon they’re both talking in rapid-fire speed in two foreign languages and cracking each other up.
Based on the Hebrew part, I make out that they were on a vacation together and something happened with a rat and women’s underwear. I shake my head, frustrated.
STOP TALKING TO CASANOVA!!!! Give Tamar attention. Ask her about her family.
“Do you have siblings?” Caleb asks a moment later.
“Yes. Three brothers. What about you?”
“Just me, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that’s unusual,” she replies, wiping her mouth with a napkin. Which is true, at least within the Orthodox world. The commandment to be fruitful and multiply is only considered complete if you have a girl and a boy.
“My parents wanted more, but it never worked,” he says.
“Probably wrong hole,” Casanova remarks, causing Caleb to choke on his drink.
I lay my face down on the table. This is just too painful for words.
“Here are some napkins,” Tamar says.
“Thanks,” Caleb coughs.
Silence settles between them and I shoot another quick text.
Ask about her hobbies
“What do you do for fun when you’re not working?” he says.
“Sadly,” she laughs, “I’m always working.”
Casanova lets out a loud yawn and I shake my head. This date is starting to feel worse than a dental cleaning.
Tell her about your hobbies
I have hobbies?
I grind my teeth as I type.
YOU WORK OUT, YOU BOX, YOU LIKE TO COOK, GO TO CONCERTS, AND YOU PLAY FOOTBALL, TENNIS, AND SOCCER. AND PING-PONG.
I don’t think she cares
Of course she cares, she’s here to get to know you.
“So, Tamar,” he says. “What’s your favorite kind of music?”
“I love classical. And operas.”
I don’t think I can do this
I glance at Tamar, wishing she’d turn the question back to him, but she’s staring into the distance looking bored. My temples start to pound. This is what a lack of chemistry looks like.
Still. It ain’t over till the matchmaker sings. Or until one of them walks out.
Give it a little longer. Tell her a funny story
Like?
I don’t know. Something from childhood maybe?
“Do you want to hear one of my favorite childhood memories?” he asks, leaning toward her.
She nods and smiles, and he continues, “My best friend is Ashira’s brother.
His name is Zevi. He’s gay.” He pauses to take a sip of his drink.
“He had a hard time in school. He was good at sports, but he had to work twice as hard as everyone else when it came to academics. And kids would bully him.”
I rub my temples. What part of ‘funny story’ did he not understand? I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I certainly don’t feel like laughing.
“The boys suspected he was gay and you know how kids can be . . .” He trails off. “There was even a rumor going around that I was his boyfriend.” Caleb and Casanova both chuckle, and Tamar gives a belated laugh that sounds forced.
“Then one day, we were all in the locker room getting ready for a football game and I overheard one guy call Zevi a slur.”
I shake my head and type,
When do we get to the funny part???
“I wanted to kill him, or at least beat him unconscious,” he continues.
Great. Now she thinks he has a temper. One of my fake nostrils, fashioned from Mordy’s Play-Doh, falls into my coffee and I can’t even find it within me to care.
“I grabbed the guy by his throat, but instead of choking him, I told him that Zevi is more a man than he’d ever be and that if I was gay, I’d marry him.”
Casanova nods in approval and gives him some sort of fist bump.
“And then I punched him. Just a small one,” Caleb adds. “A friendly one. He hardly bled at all.”
You can go now,
I type.
Really?
Yes. You are past the point of no return.
“Did you know that my friend here loves to ski?” Caleb says, then turns to Casanova. “Entertain her for me while I use the restroom? Thanks, buddy.”
“Hey! Wrong way,” Casanova calls to Caleb who heads to the door. Caleb lifts a hand and gives a small wave. And then he’s gone.
Casanova turns and glowers at me. So, I guess he knows who I am, after all.