Chapter 19 #2
“I like helping,” I land on. “It’s…fun.”
“This is fun?” Eitan grabs the notebook out of my hands. “‘Make escort cards,’” he reads out loud. “‘I want calligraphy.’ What’s an escort card?” he asks.
“It’s the little card with your name and table assignment.” I try to grab the notebook back, but he holds it out of my hands.
“And this one, what does this mean?” He points to one of the newer bullets at the bottom. “‘Vows,’” he reads. “You’re not writing her vows, are you?”
“Of course not.” This time, when I grab for my notebook, Eitan lets it go. “I just spruced them. A little.”
Eitan’s jaw goes slack with horror.
“She just wanted me to ‘Jew them up’ a bit. Is all.”
“She did not say ‘Jew them up,’ did she?”
I ignore the question. “Josh’s family has been…skeptical? Or I should say, Pen thinks they’ve been skeptical. About the wedding. So she thought if we added some Yiddish into the vows, it would appeal to them. I just added a little about besherts. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I think it’s a big deal.” Eitan puts down the bite of tuna tartare. “I don’t like the way she treats you. This whole thing is…off.”
Eitan is sniffing out Pen’s and my agreement like a bloodhound.
There’s one tiny, nuclear issue with him questioning Pen, our relationship, and the wedding as a whole.
After the wedding has gone perfectly, I’d totally owe you one.
If anything goes wrong, all the work I’ve put in up until now will be wasted.
I’ll be back at square one, with an entire summer lost.
“It’s just wedding stress,” I assure him, stuffing the notebook back in my bag. “Everything will go back to normal once the big day is done.”
Eitan doesn’t say anything affirmative, but he does let the issue drop.
The door sweeps open, and Carrie comes back with full hands. “Looks like you hated it!” she jokes, swapping our empty plates for entree plates stuffed with a salmon fillet, risotto, and a side salad.
I hold my stomach, grateful for the interruption. “It was delicious.”
Carrie winks before leaving again.
“Do you really believe in that stuff?” Eitan asks, out of the blue.
“Believe in what?” I ask through a mouthful of the most tender salmon I’ve ever had.
“Beshert.”
Do I believe in beshert? I thought it was beshert, running into Pen in Mike’s the day after Izumi’s wedding.
And I suppose it was. Because of that, we’ve been closer than ever.
The conversation with Louise still plays on repeat, trapping me in a nightmare fun house.
Our relationship is transactional, right now.
But it’s a mutually beneficial transaction.
And things will go back to normal once the big day is done.
“Do you?” I ask, instead of answering him.
“My mom used to say that she and my dad were beshert.” Eitan refolds his napkin in his lap. “And, well, you know how that turned out. Guess they weren’t beshert enough for him to want to continue treatment.”
My heart hurts at the pain in his words. “I don’t think his decision had anything to do with how much he loved your mom. Or you.” It’s far too easy to imagine myself in the same position, making the same hard decisions. “He had to do what was right for him.”
“Yeah.” Eitan wipes a hand down his face, silent for a moment. “Look, I owe you an explanation. For what happened at the movie theater.”
The sharp left turn makes my breath trip over itself. “What? No, that’s—we don’t need to—”
“No, let me, Ruby.” There’s something hypnotic in the way he says my name. Like being spotted in a crowded room. Recognized in the dark.
I wait, holding my breath.
“I lied to you.”
I blink. “You lied?”
His lips mash together. “Maybe it’s more that I…
misrepresented myself. I’m still—” The room is silent except for the hum of AC and distant voices behind the kitchen door.
Eitan continues, eyes on his hands. “I’m still struggling.
With—with everything. I’ve taken medication for clinical depression off and on since I was sixteen. ”
It’s not what I was expecting. I thought I would be subjected to another bullshit excuse for why he’s not into me. But this is…earnest. Real.
It’s hard to reconcile Eitan having depression with his sunflower smile. But that’s the thing I learned about depression. It’s impossible to see.
“Since my dad died, it’s been—it’s been harder.
Most days are okay, but I keep a lot of it at bay by flooding my system with novelty.
It’s easier to get out of bed when I wake up in an unfamiliar place, with a new city to explore.
” His hand lifts to the table, tentatively reaching toward mine.
I let the edges of our fingers meet. “When I said that I haven’t always been a great friend to Josh, I wasn’t exaggerating.
He’s had to deal with months of silence from me, during the worst of it.
My mind gets twisted and tells me that people are better off without me. It makes me do stupid stuff sometimes.”
Our gazes meet, two moths fluttering in the dark.
“I like you too much to do that to you,” he finishes, the words leaden.
‘I like you’ rings all around me, like church bells. The moment hangs in the air. I like you, too, is attempting to take off in my throat. But the second half of his declaration catches up to me. I like you too much to do that to you. I like you, but I’m no good for you.
It’s for the best.
“What about what I want?” I ask. “Do I get a say?”
Eitan rakes a hand through his hair. “I can’t give you what you want.”
“You don’t even know what I want,” I say, a touch indignant. “You’ve never asked. You just assume.”
His eyes go molten, and his jaw rolls. “What do you want, Ruby?” His fingers flip my palm over, dancing over the surface with feather-light touches. “Because I can’t promise anything. Anything other than right now.”
I want anything. Everything. I ache with want. It’s cosmic, just like Louise said.
Maybe I do want more than he can give me. But for a while now, it’s felt like I want more than the Universe itself can give me, and that hasn’t stopped anything. Life continues on in one great blur all around me, and I’m tired of missing out.
“I’m okay with now,” I say, a half-truth.
Lightning pings in his eyes. His hand clasps mine, more firm.
“But I need to go slow,” I whisper, the only betrayal of the truth roiling in my gut.
Eitan smiles, sadness and pleasure and anticipation all wrapped in one. He leans in and whispers against my cheek, his lips giving me goosebumps. “I can be gentle with you.”