Chapter Seventeen
“Mincha! Mincha!”
Judah looked up from his Rummikub tiles and glanced at his watch as people started gathering for afternoon services. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Me neither,” said Mira, a pleased smile on her face. “I was just about to win too.”
“No, you weren’t,” he said with a grin as he set out his final tiles and flipped his board. “Good game.”
They put it away and headed through the open doors of the large auditorium serving as the synagogue.
Judah sighed as he took a seat in the back of the men’s section, relieved to have a little time and space to himself.
Not that Mira was bad company; he just hadn’t planned to spend quite so much time with her.
But the Winklers had invited him to their Seder and seated him next to Mira, and then he saw her at kiddush the next morning; before he knew it, they were spending the entire next afternoon together.
Sure, he’d had some thoughts of Ari—when he spotted a couple of kids playing with Lego, when he overheard a girl complaining about high heels, when he saw a woman reading a romance novel he recognized from her apartment—but every time his mind threatened to stray too far, there was Mira, complimenting his davening or admiring the food.
It was a little awkward to see passersby glancing at them with smiles on their faces, as if they were watching a love connection happen before their eyes.
There didn’t seem to be a single person at the program who didn’t know Judah was available—the number of times he’d heard “I have the perfect girl for you” so far was well into the double digits—and Mira’s uncovered hair and ringless finger easily marked her too.
At least when they were together, no one approached him about a granddaughter or niece he simply must meet.
And in truth, Mira did make sense. She was kind and friendly, dressed neatly and modestly—knees, elbows, and collarbone all covered—and made it no secret that she wanted kids and was looking for a husband who went to minyan and learned every day.
He learned that she loved to cook, and she was currently living in Washington Heights, only a few blocks from where he used to.
She crocheted as a hobby (particularly loved making kippot for her brothers and nephews) and worked as a speech therapist.
When he’d asked why she thought she was still single, she’d admitted she was the one who was picky. “I just want to feel that spark, you know?”
And then she’d looked at him and blushed.
She was exactly what he should’ve been looking for, ticked every box.
Everyone whose eyes swept over them while pretending not to stare seemed to look on in approval (except for those who wanted him for their own friends and relatives).
She smiled proudly when fans stopped by, and helped him field awkward conversations.
They fit neatly and easily, like a toddler’s puzzle pieces.
Most importantly, there was no temptation to pull her into a quiet corner and kiss her until their lips grew numb. He wasn’t embarrassing himself by laughing too loudly or losing his ability to focus because the mere sight of her rendered him an idiot.
Being here with Arielle would’ve been a disaster.
This … this was what it should be. And maybe he just needed to give it a chance.
With a sigh, he refocused on the prayers he was supposed to be saying, then settled in for the scheduled lecture afterward.
When they asked him to make Havdalah for everyone after Maariv services, he noticed that Mira, too, had stayed for both the lecture and davening.
Then she caught him looking her way and ducked her head shyly.
Still, he couldn’t deny that the thing he wanted to do most now that yuntif was over was call Ari.
He missed her throaty voice, the way making her laugh made him feel like a million bucks.
He wanted to tell her he didn’t let himself be lonely, wanted to hear her tell him she was proud of him.
But when he realized he was hoping to hear jealousy in her voice, he shook his head.
Move on, Hotmusic, he could hear her say. It’s not happening.
She’d told him they should get with other people. Hell, she probably already had. And if he waited around on a hope and a prayer that they could be something …
She didn’t want you making her dinner, he reminded himself. If the power hadn’t gone out, she would’ve run into a thunderstorm rather than stay the night. How many more ways can she tell you she doesn’t want a relationship with you?
And then, beneath that: Imagine if you’d brought her here. Imagine telling those guys that actually, the girl they call Bend Her Like Becker is your girlfriend. How exactly does that play out?
The un-pep talk half worked—it was hard to ignore the way imagining introducing Ari as his girlfriend made his heart pound despite the potential consequences—but then he looked up and met Mira’s gaze, her hopeful half smile.
He could call Ari. He could call her, and maybe she’d want to talk, and he could lose the entire night to lying in bed while talking to her, maybe even watching a movie together over the phone.
He could, maybe, prolong the fantasy, just a little longer.
He could do all of that, but what would be the point?
Besides, if there was one thing Ari had woken in him, it was the idea that there was possibility out there. And why should he let that go to waste instead of giving himself a real shot at the future he’d always wanted?
Before he could second-guess himself, he walked to the back of the room, where Mira was chatting with Aaron while also obviously waiting for him. “Hey,” he greeted them.
“Hey, man. Nice Havdalah.”
“Thanks.” He fixed his eyes on Mira. “Are you going to the concert tonight?”
“I was thinking about it,” she said, tapping a finger to her lips, “but then again, he’s no Judah Klein.”
“Yeah, though that guy’s overplayed, don’t you think?”
“Nope. In fact, I’m really looking forward to his performance on Wednesday night. But I suppose, for now, these guys will do to tide me over.”
“Good. I mean…” Judah glanced over at Aaron, expecting to see him laughing at their awkward flirting, but apparently he’d already lost interest in them and disappeared, which meant they were alone, and it was now or never.
Let yourself have a good time, Judah. It’s only as lonely as you let it be.
He coughed and took a breath. “I mean, would you like to go with me?”
The glow on Mira’s face could’ve lit up the entire room, and Judah felt a hateful twinge at the realization that Ari would never, ever look at him that way.
But as he and Mira made plans to meet up in the lobby in half an hour, Judah told himself it was time to let go.
Arielle Becker was always meant to be temporary.
But Mira? She was looking for permanence. And she was looking at him. And she just might be the best chance he had.
Judah took his hundredth glance at his watch, willing the hands to move faster.
He took a shower and got dressed in record time so his mind wouldn’t have time to wander to the very places it so often did lately when he was naked.
But now he was all dressed with no place to go for the next fifteen minutes.
The temptation to call Arielle grew the longer he sat, to the point where he put his phone in his nightstand drawer. Then it struck him that he’d been so distracted that he hadn’t even called home. Feeling like every inch the wicked son, he retrieved his phone and called his mom.
“Hi, sweetie!” She sounded so thrilled to hear from him that the guilt in the pit of his stomach turned into a swirling mass. “How’s Mexico?”
“It’s good!” He filled her in on the hotel, the food, the lectures, and, because he knew she loved it, the compliments he’d been getting on his davening and how excited people were for his upcoming performance.
“I even got taken in by the family of a guy I used to know for the Sedarim, so don’t worry—I’m being well taken care of. ”
“I’m so glad to hear that, Judah. Are you … meeting anyone nice?”
His mom had always had a way of asking without really asking how dating was going. He opened his mouth to laugh it off, the way he always did, when it occurred to him that it wouldn’t be totally off base to say yes and would probably make his mom’s life.
But it was also entirely possible this whole thing with Mira would fizzle out by the end of the week, and he’d have gotten her hopes up for nothing.
“Meeting lots of nice people,” he said, hedging and pretending not to hear her quiet little sigh. “Hey, is Akiva still there?”
“He is. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Please. But I’ll call you again before Shabbos, okay?”
“Sounds good. Enjoy yourself, honey.”
A minute later, a new voice came over the line. “Hey, Jude. How’s Mexico?”
“Hot. How’s Mom’s?”
“Same old. Excellent matzo balls, but I never want to choke down another potato. Guessing it wasn’t quite as extravagant as that program.”
“The Titanic wasn’t as extravagant as this program. They could cut the buffet in half, and you wouldn’t notice.”
“Oh man, that sounds so much better than two days of matzo brei for lunch.”
“Next year, I’ll get it in my contract that you guys can come,” Judah vowed, irritated at himself for not thinking of it earlier.
He’d always thought of these programs as his way of taking care of the holidays for himself as an adult, but who cared?
Akiva went home. Arielle went home. The Winklers were there as a family.
Why did he have to be solo when no one else was?
“That’d be cool,” Akiva said. “Pick somewhere good. Bear in mind I’ve never been to Greece.”
“Noted. I’ll get us something nice in New Jersey.”
Akiva snorted. “Cute. Anyone fun there? Anyone I know?”
“If you remember Benny Winkler, I bumped into him on the first day. He’s here with his whole family. He has a sister who’s a couple of years younger than you. Do you know her? Mira?”
“Doesn’t sound familiar. She single? Cute? You hittin’ that?”
“God, I should never have told you anything about my personal life,” Judah said with a sigh. “Yes, she’s single. Yes, she’s cute. No, I’m not hitting anything, but I’ve … been getting to know her a little bit. She’s nice.”
“I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d move on from Ari that fast.”
“This isn’t—” Judah took a deep breath, the mention of Ari like a kick to the gut. “It’s not like she and I broke up. We were having fun, and now it’s over, and I’m trying to take my life and my future seriously.”
“Okay, but if I were having the kind of fun you two were apparently having, I don’t think I’d be giving up on it as fast as you are.”
A lump formed in Judah’s throat, and he forced a swallow past it. “What do you know about it?”
“I know Danny’s room is right above Ari’s, and he’s had a complex for the past week that he never made her sound the way the mystery guy who was in her room on Sunday has. I’ve never been so proud and disgusted at the same time.”
Judah didn’t know whether to feel smug or horrified, but the former was winning out, and he allowed himself a little grin of satisfaction, grateful Akiva couldn’t see it. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a great week; I’m just—”
“I’m sorry, did you say week?”
Crap. “I’m just saying, we agreed that was it: to get this whole thing out of our systems and move on. So that’s what I’m doing.”
“Just so I’m clear, you spent an entire week getting down and dirty with Arielle Becker, but now it’s entirely out of your system, and you’re very happily moving on to a ‘nice’ girl you just met.”
“How do you manage to make ‘nice’ sound like a death sentence?”
“Because it’s what you say about someone who’s boring as fuck. Look, Ari’s a ‘nice’ girl, but you wouldn’t describe her that way.”
No, there were about a thousand ways he’d describe Arielle Becker before “nice” came to mind.
Irreverent.
Fascinating.
Mind-blowingly sexy.
All-consuming.
“Well maybe I should be with a girl I would describe that way,” Judah challenged. “Mom would love a nice girl. A nice girl would keep my head on straight so I can focus on the things I should be focusing on.”
“That sounds exhilarating,” Akiva said dryly.
Judah sighed. “Kivi, I know Ari’s your friend, but there was never a future there.
We don’t make sense.” He closed his eyes as he thought about Benny and his stupid friends and their stupid comments, how he should’ve been the one to stand up for her, not Mira.
But Mira did, because she was ni—kind, and she was clearly interested in him in a way Ari wasn’t and would never be.
“I want to get married and have babies and do the whole family thing. I want to make you goofy Uncle Akiva. And Ari’s not …
she’s not interested in any of that.” Not unless she got desperate.
The word still rang in his ears. “So, get on board with me ‘moving on,’ okay? I need you to.”
The silence went on for so long that Judah was certain Akiva’d hung up, until finally, his brother said, “Okay. So tell me more about the girl.”