Chapter 5
Chapter five
Naomi sat cross-legged on the floor of her living room while Riley laid out a series of outfits on the sofa. She had called Riley only an hour ago when she had come home from work and it had hit her that she had to plan an outfit for her date tomorrow.
When the thought first popped into her head, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal. It was even a little exciting. Until, standing in the silence, one hand on each door of her closet, staring at her clothes, her brain was kind enough to remind her that she had never, ever, been on a first date.
Not an adult one anyway. When she had started dating Simon, they were in high school.
They had known each other for months, and the closest thing they'd had to a first date was sitting alone at a table in the lunch hall. By the time they had the money and autonomy to go out on a date-date, the kind that included romantic restaurant meals over candlelight, Simon was telling her what she could and couldn’t wear.
As she realized she had no idea how to dress for anyone but Simon, the clothes in her closet began to swim before her eyes and with it the rising tide of panic in her chest. She’d slammed the closet doors closed and called Riley who, without hesitation, came to the rescue.
The Fassi headquarters, where Riley worked, were located directly above the Fassi flagship store, which meant Riley only needed to take an elevator down eight floors to begin shopping with their generous employee discount.
They arrived at her apartment later that evening with three potential date outfits.
“Now, keep in mind, I didn’t have too much to go off besides what you’ve told me about him, his location choice, and the light amount of internet stalking I’ve done,” Riley said.
Riley’s presence and the bottle of wine they had brought with them had helped to calm her nerves some. “What did you learn? I was too afraid to look. What if he’s not as cute as I remember?”
“Girl, you have to do your research so you know what things to bring up. And to make sure they’re not an obvious murderer.” They handed her a pair of forest green linen pants and a black body suit. “Start with this one.” Riley turned around to face the wall as she changed.
“An obvious murderer? You mean like if they put ‘I murder people’ in their bio?” she asked, standing up and shedding her work clothes.
Riley patted their hair, the blue from a few days ago now accented with purple. “You mock, but I stand before you, a serial dater, still alive. Which I attribute, in part, to my system of weeding out murderers.”
“Does it count as a date if you can’t remember their name the next morning?”
“I remember their souls, though. And … other, more material, parts of them. That’s all that really matters.”
“Okay, outfit number one. What do you think?” Naomi didn’t even need a mirror. She trusted Riley more than she trusted her own eyes.
Riley turned around and gave her a thorough visual inspection. “I don’t like it as much as I thought I would. Try this one next.” They lifted up a pleated, burnt orange skirt and white crop top, handed it to her, and then spun back to the wall.
“So? What did you learn?” she asked again, beginning the process of swapping outfits.
“Not as much as I’d like, I’ll tell you that.
I can assuage your concerns by telling you that he is indeed pretty to look at.
And he also does not appear to be an obvious murderer.
But he’s not very giving when it comes to social media …
which I hope is not an indication of how he will be in bed, by the way. ”
“Let me get through this date before we start thinking about what he’ll be like in bed.”
“You haven’t thought about what he’ll be like in bed?!”
Naomi didn’t need to see Riley’s face to know the shaken look of disbelief that was on it.
Of course, she had thought about it. She’d thought about all the places his hands might explore on her body and wondered what that gentle laugh would sound like when it turned into a moan.
In fact, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
“How about this,” she said, hoping to change the subject as heat started to spread up her neck.
Riley whirled and examined her, fingers resting on their jaw. “This could be the winner, but let’s try the last one.” They held out a maxi dress adorned with a large floral print and then turned away again.
“Did you learn anything else besides him being pretty and not obviously a murderer?”
“An Instagram with a handful of food pictures and a goldfish named Ferris Bueller that I’m guessing is his, based on the caption.
A LinkedIn with only his current position at Nightly Global News and his undergrad—a Communications and Film BA from Indiana State University.
And a Facebook profile with only happy birthday messages from which I was able to deduce that he is two years younger than you. ”
“This might be a good side hustle for you, Riley. You help people pick out their outfits and investigate their dates.”
“Ooh, I am a fan of this. I dress you up and dress them down.”
“I think you’d make a killing.”
“Speaking of his current employment, I need you to make this last long enough that I can meet Freya Jonsson and pitch her to do a story about me.”
“About you? She usually does pretty hard-hitting journalism.”
“Oh, I can be hard.”
Naomi decided not to take the bait on that one. “I’m ready.”
This time when Riley turned, their entire face widened with pleasure.
“Bingo. Gives of come-hither vibes but in a subtle, Naomi kind of way.” They put their fingers to their lips for a chef’s kiss.
Naomi opened her mouth to ask a follow-up question, but Riley was already on it.
“Hair up, I’ll lend you the earrings, and those white sandals with the chunky heel you’ve got. ”
Naomi smiled and walked over to Riley, putting her arms around them.
Because of the height difference between the two of them, their hugs always made them both chuckle.
But she didn’t think about it this time as she pulled them in for a tight squeeze.
“Thank you,” she said. “You really helped me.” She searched for the right words.
How could she begin to tell them how they had helped her with so much more than picking the right dress?
It was about Riley giving her the space to be the kind of woman who sits on her living room floor and picks the right dress.
For most people, she imagined this wasn’t a very momentous occasion.
But for her, it felt like a baby taking her first, wobbly step.
Riley squeezed back. “You got this, girl.”
She released them and looked up. “I …” It took her a moment to finish her sentence. “Don’t know if I do got this.”
“Of course you do! What are you even saying?” They stepped back and gestured to Naomi. “You’re stunning. Smart. Successful. And humble enough to ask for help when you need it, which is why you’re also fabulously dressed.”
Naomi smiled but couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping her lips. “And a divorcee.”
Riley shook their head. “Her Royal Majesty, Taylor Swift, practically built her career on singing about her exes. Having an ex is the in thing now.”
“First of all, I think singing about your exes was in before Taylor Swift.”
“Mmm, disagree. But continue.”
“Well, I don’t think she’s ever written a song about having never been on a date with anyone, much less slept with anyone other than her ex-husband who, by the way, likes to make an appearance from time to time and throw a chaos bomb into the mix.”
Riley’s head bobbed up and down, as if they were running through the catalog of Taylor Swift songs to make sure that was correct.
“Perhaps not,” they finally conceded. “Although who knows where her music will take us over the years. But T Swift aside, I gather you’re trying to say that Will might not like you because of your past? ”
Her chest tightened, leaving little air to get her word out. “Yes …”
Riley took a seat on the armrest of her sofa. “Then, girl, he’s trash.”
When Naomi laughed, Riley held up a finger. “One moment.” They reached for their phone on the coffee table and began tapping. After a few moments, the phone began to ring from the speaker.
There was a click and then her best friend’s voice on the other line. “Hello?”
“Abby, what if Will doesn’t like Naomi because of her ex-husband?”
Without hesitation, and with a fiery bite to her words, Abby responded, “Then he’s trash!
” Riley lifted their open palm towards her, as if to say “voila” but before they could say any more, Abby continued.
“Wait, why? Did he say something to Naomi? I’m at my mom’s for dinner but I can leave. Does anyone know where he lives?”
“Take a breath, Lizzie Bordon, we’re not axing anyone tonight. I only needed some backup.”
“Hi, Abby,” Naomi said, throwing her voice towards the phone. “Everything is fine, I’m having a … moment. You know. Wondering if this date thing is a good idea.”
“Naomi! Hi! I—no, I’m on the phone with Naomi,” Abby’s voice suddenly sounded further away, like she was covering the microphone to address someone in the room with her. “No, she’s fine, she—”
“Naomi, honey, what’s going on?” It was another voice Naomi knew well, Abby’s mother, Deborah, who had always been a second mom to Naomi growing up. When Naomi’s parents had moved to Michigan after she’d graduated college, Deborah had taken an even bigger step into the role.
“Oh my God, is this about Will?” Becca had entered the chat.
Naomi glanced at Riley with an amused smile. Trying to have a conversation with all three Meyer women was like trying to fly a plane through a tornado.
“Is Will that young man Abby was telling me about?” Deborah said. “The one that you’re going on a date with? He sounds like a doll. Too bad he’s not Jewish but I’m sure he’ll convert when you get married, right?”
“Mom, please,” Abby said. “Can you let Naomi have a first date before you start planning their wedding?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Becca said. “We’re trying to get Naomi laid, not married.”
“Oh, well, that’s different,” Debbie replied. “No need to worry about conversion if you’re only in it for the penis.”
“Mom!” Abby scolded.
“Just because you don’t like penises doesn’t mean we can’t talk about them.”
“Thank you,” Becca said.
“Would you please … ” Abby made a grumbling noise and then started again. “Riley thought it might help—”
“Riley is there?” Sometimes it was impossible to differentiate Deborah and Becca’s voices.
“Hi, ladies,” Riley said. “Would either of you care to weigh in on why there’s no reason in the world a man wouldn’t want to date Naomi?”
“Not date—are you crazy?” That was definitely Deborah. “Naomi, you’re perfection. Who is telling you you’re not?”
“No one,” she said. Then added, “Me. I’m the one. I got a little in my head about Simon and what Will might think when he finds out—”
“Simon!” Debbie practically spat the name. “Yimakh shemo. May his name be erased. That horrid man is part of your past, but he isn’t a part of who you are. And if Will or anyone else feels differently then they’re … what did you call them, Abby?”
“Trash.”
“There you have it. Trash. Any man would be lucky to have you as a wife.”
“Or a one-night stand!” Becca shouted.
“Exactly. Or a one-night stand. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Naomi said, not quite as enthusiastically as everyone probably hoped. “Given my taste in men, he probably is trash.”
“Your taste in man, singular,” Abby said. “One mistake. It was a big one but that one choice didn’t write your entire future.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to find out if that’s true or not.”
“I feel like we’re getting too caught on Will’s character,” Becca chimed in. “You don’t need him to do a deep dive into your personal life. Only into you.”
Abby went next. “However your … relationship with Will unfolds, I think Becca has a point. This is a first date—you don’t have to tell him your entire life story.
You can get to know him more and decide if he is someone you trust enough to share that with.
It’s your life and your decision, and you can open up to him whenever you’re ready, even if it takes a while.
But it for sure doesn’t have to happen tomorrow. ”
“You’re not on an episode of Married At First Sight, so you’ve got plenty of time,” Riley managed to get a word in.
“Why don’t you bring him over for dinner? I’m a great judge of character,” Deborah said.
“She’s not bringing a first date to your house, Mom,” Abby said.
“Why not?” Deborah said, sounding offended. “What’s so bad about coming here?”
Over the sound of a new argument, Riley said loudly into the phone, “Thank you, ladies! Love you, kiss kiss!” and ended the call. “There you have it. You’ve got this.”
Her ears still buzzing from the cacophony of the last few minutes, Naomi looked down at her dress and inhaled deeply. Then, exhaling, she looked up and said, mostly believing it, “I got this.”