Worth the Weight

by Eileen Palma

  Mrs. Fink busied herself putting on a pot of coffee and setting out plates of cinnamon and chocolate rugelach. Jack sat down and was relieved to be wearing long pants since the chairs were the kind that your legs stick to when it’s hot. And it certainly was warm in the stuffy apartment.

  As soon as Mrs. Fink sat down, she went into rapid-fire question mode without mincing any words.

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-seven,” answered Jack, without missing a beat.

  “Any kids?” asked Mrs. Fink.

  “Not that I know of,” said Jack, and then immediately regretted it when Mrs. Fink raised one thinly plucked eyebrow.

  “You’re not one of those people who hate kids—are you?”

  “Of course not.” Jack stirred the coffee that Mrs. Fink had sweetened with a heaping tablespoon of sugar and real cream.

  “Any relation to the Delancey Street Horowitzes?”

  Jack took a huge gulp of coffee and instantly regretted it when the hot liquid seared his esophagus. He shook his head mid-cough.

  “What about the Riverdale Horowitzes?”

  “No.” Jack cleared his throat.

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Why?” Jack was eager to get Mrs. Fink off on a tangent about the Riverdale Horowitzs. Anything to get her to stop grilling him.

  “Long story.” She put an extra scoop of sugar in her own coffee. “Then you must be related to the Coney Island Horowitzes, which means I know your Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Ephraim.”

  There seemed to be no end to the Jewish six degrees of separation. “My family’s originally from upstate.”

  “Upstate? You must’ve had a hell of a time finding a synagogue!”

  “That’s why you’re not feeling well.” Kate burst through the folding kitchen door trailed by all three dogs. “Zabar’s is gonna be the death of you.”

  “We have company. I had to put out some nibbles.” Mrs. Fink smiled in Jack’s direction.

  “You shouldn’t have these kinds of nibbles in the apartment. You need to take better care of yourself.” Kate leaned down and unleashed all the dogs in quick succession.

  “I’m fine. I just had one of my spells.”

  “Where’s Regina?” Kate grabbed a tennis ball from under the kitchen table and threw it towards the living room. The three dogs raced out of the room to fetch it.

  “Who knows? She never came home last night.” Mrs. Fink used a pair of silver tongs to plop an extra cinnamon rugelach on Jack’s plate.

  “I told you she wasn’t going to be reliable.”

  “She’s my great-niece once removed and she needed a place to stay. Would you have me throw her out to live on the street with the gyro trucks and men selling Coach knockoffs?”

  “The least she could do is walk Morty and cook something healthy for you once in awhile. What’d you have for dinner?”

  “A bagel.”

  “That’s all simple carbs. I’ll make you an egg white omelet. Your blood sugar’s probably all messed up.”

  Jack watched while Kate pulled a carton of eggs, a container of Zabar’s chive cream cheese and a packet of Lox from the fridge. She grabbed a skillet and started whipping together an omelet.

  “Don’t forget to add the capers.”

  “Do I ever forget the capers?” asked Kate, with an exaggerated sigh.

  “You guys are like an old married couple,” said Jack. “When did you move out Kate?”

  “If it was up to me she woulda been out of here years ago. But Katie wouldn’t leave till she found someone to keep an eye on me. This big shot TV star lived with me in my crappy apartment until about six months ago when I told her my Regina was moving in.” Mrs. Fink sounded annoyed but Jack could see the smile that reached her eyes when she talked about Kate.

  “I wouldn’t have moved out if I knew you would be living on bagels and rugelach.”

  “I don’t have a husband. A woman’s gotta have some pleasure in her life,” said Mrs. Fink, with a wink at Jack.

  “I bet you miss Kate’s cooking.” Jack dipped his last bite of pastry in the coffee before putting it in his mouth.

  “Oh, yes. I got to eat all of Katie’s homework assignments when she was in cooking school,” said Mrs. Fink. “But after two years, I could barely fit through the doorway.”

  “You’re such an exaggerator,” said Kate.

  Kate brought the steaming omelet over to the table and pulled up a chair next to Jack. The three dogs kept themselves occupied in the living room chasing a ball around.

  Mrs. Fink took her time cutting her omelet into dainty little pieces, before taking her first bite.

  “By the time you get to eating that it’ll be cold,” pointed out Kate.

  “Sometimes the best things in life are the ones you have to wait for,” said Mrs. Fink, with a raised eyebrow.

  “Enough with the proverbs. Start eating your food,” admonished Kate.

  Mrs. Fink took a small bite of her omelet and her eyes practically rolled back in her head with delight. She pointed her fork at Kate and said, “This girl here cooks like nobody’s business.”

  They fell silent for a few minutes while Mrs. Fink worked on her eggs and Jack and Kate noshed on rugelach and drank the freshly brewed coffee. Mrs. Fink was halfway through her omelet when she dropped her fork.

  “Katie, run in the bedroom and grab my calendar. You know the little free datebook the synagogue gave me when I sent in my donation?” said Mrs. Fink, with a definite sense of urgency.

  “What for?” asked Kate as she stood up from the table.

  “I need to check something. It’s either on my night table under the Nicholas Sparks book, or by my Mah Jongg set in the living room.”

  It was clear that Kate knew her way around Mrs. Fink’s things because she returned to the kitchen before Mrs. Fink started grilling Jack again.

  Kate handed the small black datebook to Mrs. Fink, along with a pair of rhinestone studded reading glasses. The small black book reminded Jack of the one that Chase had given him when he set up his business account, but it was clear this calendar had all the Jewish holidays marked in red. Mrs. Fink flipped through the pages till she got to the current date.

  “I knew it!”

  “What?” asked Kate, echoing Jack’s own curiosity.

  “Today is Tu B’Av.” Mrs. Fink snapped the book shut and looked over her reading glasses from Kate to Jack.

  “Forgive me, but my knowledge of Jewish holidays is limited to Chanukah, Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah,” said Jack.

  “I’ve never heard of it either,” said Kate.

  “It’s the Jewish Valentine’s Day.” Mrs. Fink pulled her reading glasses off, folded them closed and rested them on top of the date book.

  “How can there be a Jewish Valentine’s Day?” asked Kate. “Isn’t the holiday named after a saint?”

  “Maybe Israel’s Hallmark stores realized how much revenue they were missing out on,” said Jack.

  “With cynicism like that, it’s quite clear how the two of you have remained single all these years,” said Mrs. Fink.

  “All right. We’re listening.” Kate met Jack’s eyes with a suppressed smirk.

  “Tu B’Av falls exactly one week after the saddest day in the Jewish calendar to remind us that even in sadness, happiness will always follow. It is the day of love, when Jewish men are supposed to consider who they will make their wife.” Mrs. Fink took her glasses off and closed her book. “It’s a day filled with hope, romance and possibility.”

  “Have you ever made a match on Tu B’Av?” asked Jack.

  “Of course, but it’s never the same as two people meeting by accident on this day of love. That is true cosmic force.”

  “Don’t you think you’re laying it on a little thick?” Kate rolled her eyes towards Jack. “Now you know why I was scared to leave you alone with this one.”

  “What? Who says I’m talking abou
t the two of you?”

  “I guess that means the boy who stopped to talk to Lauren at the dog park is going to end up marrying her one day. I better tell my sister to start saving up for the wedding,” said Jack.

  “Speaking of Lauren—what time do you have to leave to pick her up?” asked Kate.

  Jack looked at his watch, “Now. Mrs. Fink, you were such good company I lost track of the time.”

  “Your niece is the little gymnast with those powerful eyes, right?” asked Mrs. Fink.

  “How did you know?” Jack was amazed at this tiny aged mystic.

  “She’s made the rounds with Pam before. Pam slips her a few bucks to help out when there’s extra dogs on the route.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I think Pam does it more as a favor to my sister Harper than because she needs the help.”

  “Tell her I said hi, and I have some black and white cookies in the freezer for next time she comes over,” said Mrs. Fink. “Katie, you can go too. I’m heading to bed now.”

  “Since when do you go to bed at 8 P.M.?” asked Kate.

  “All right. You caught me. I want to watch True Blood in peace.” Mrs. Fink stood up from the table, and gave Kate a hug. “Thanks for dinner.”

  Mrs. Fink then turned her attention to Jack. “I’m a hugger,” she said, as she leaned in to give him an embrace. Jack could feel her sparrow-like shoulder blades poking through her velour hoody.

  “Where do you live?” asked Jack as they headed down the dizzying staircase.

  “Right by the dog park, at 23rd between 10th and 11th in the new building across from the U-Haul place.”

  “That’s on my way. I’ll walk you home.”

  “So what happened to Mr. Fink?” asked Jack. He held the door for Kate and the dogs. It had gotten much darker since they had been upstairs and the air had dropped a few degrees.

  “There never was a Mr. Fink. Pretty ironic for a matchmaker, huh?” The dogs ambled after Kate, pushing each other through the door.

  “I guess it’s no weirder than the teacher who has no kids or the housekeeper with the messy apartment.”

  “Mrs. Fink lost the love of her life when she was a teenager.” Kate stopped walking for a minute to untangle the two dog leashes.

  “He died?” asked Jack.

  “You’re a glass is always half empty kind of guy aren’t you? His name is Abraham and no, he didn’t die. But she had to leave him behind when her family moved here from Hungary. Mrs. Fink couldn’t bear the thought of Abraham spending years pining away for her while he tried to save up the money to come here. So, she wrote him and said that she eloped with the neighborhood butcher.”

  “Sounds like the plot of one of those depressing films that they’re always showing at the art house on 19th Street.” Jack slowed down his walking to match the pace of the dogs that stopped to sniff every crack in the sidewalk.

  “I know. It’s awful. He got the news and was so brokenhearted that he took up with her best friend Bertie. They got married and had four kids.”

  “No wonder Mrs. Fink never got married.” Kate was walking so close to him that Jack could see the goosebumps popping up on her arm. His hand instinctively reached out towards Kate, and he had to pull himself back.

  “Mrs. Fink says she never found anyone else who made her feel the way Abraham did.”

  “I bet she’s always trying to set you up with somebody.”

  “That’s the weird thing. I’ve known her almost half my life and she’s never set me up. She always said the timing wasn’t right.”

  Jack and Kate made their way past the dog park to the corner of 23rd Street and Eleventh Avenue, inhaling the roasted chestnuts and smoked sausages from the street meat cart on the corner. They crossed the concrete driveway that was filled with U-Haul trucks, each with a different state captured in one solid image splashed against the side. A bug-eyed Roswell alien stood for New Mexico, while loops of green hills dubbed the Serpent Mound were supposed to be a draw for Ohio. These advertisements did nothing to encourage Jack to visit either of these states.

  The street was deserted as they crossed over to Kate’s building, an old coat warehouse that had been broken up into ecofriendly luxury apartments.

  “Thanks for walking me home.”

  The outside fluorescent lamp illuminated Kate and unlike most women, she looked more beautiful in the harsh light. Jack realized her hair was made up of at least fifty different shades of blond from pale wheat to vibrant saffron. And her eyes weren’t light brown after all, but a liquid wash of tiger’s eye.

  “Is Diesel okay?” Kate pulled her eyes away from Jack’s and turned to Diesel who had thrown himself in a panting heap against the wall.

  “You okay buddy?” asked Jack. Diesel’s tongue hung out of his mouth like a dried-out sponge and his eyes rolled listlessly towards his upper eyelids.

  “He probably needs some water. Let’s get him upstairs.” Kate pulled Sarah Jessica Barker through the revolving door, gesturing for Jack to follow.

  The elevator whisked them upstairs at warp speed and Kate hustled them down the hall to her apartment.

  “I’m just warning you. It’s a bit of a mess in here. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  As soon as Jack walked in, he knew Kate wasn’t exaggerating. The apartment was clearly the quick pit stop of a very busy person. Workout clothes strewn across the couch, a jumble of high heels and cross trainers kicked off by the door, and a stack of unopened mail on the kitchen counter.

  Jack grabbed a green cookie off one of the many baking trays strewn across the granite counter top. He sniffed it and couldn’t help grimacing. “Is this some sort of a spinach cookie?”

  “Gluten-free kale carob chip. For the new cookbook.”

  Jack shuddered and dropped it on the counter.

  “That one cookie has as much calcium as a glass of milk. It’s my ticket to the bestsellers list.” Kate grabbed a hot pink bowl that said Keep Calm and Eat a Bone off the kitchen floor. She grabbed the sink’s spray attachment to fill up the dish since the sink basin was overflowing with sticky cookie sheets and batter-coated mixing bowls.

  Kate plopped the bowl on the floor, unbothered by the water that splashed over the sides onto her gray slate floor.

  Diesel and Sarah Jessica Barker lapped up the water in a chorus of grunts and snorts. It wasn’t long before the two of them drained the bowl.

  “Good boy! You look much better.” Kate rubbed Diesel’s back while he tapped his hind claws on the floor in rapid-fire clicks and clacks.

  “You were right. He just needed a drink.” Jack scruffed his dog’s wiry head and grabbed the empty dog bowl.

  Jack brought the bowl to the sink, careful to keep his hand far away from the blender with the mysterious blue liquid coagulating in it. He grabbed the sink hose and pointed it towards the water bowl. Icy water ricocheted off it and sprayed all over the front of Jack’s shirt.

  Kate tilted her head back in a fit of giggles.

  “You think that’s funny, huh?” Jack aimed the nozzle at Kate and soaked her, unintentionally creating a scene out of an ‘80s movie wet tee-shirt contest.

  Jack was distracted by the delicious under curve of boob made suddenly visible against Kate’s moist shirt, when she wrestled the sink nozzle from him and seared a stream of water from Jack’s chest down to his jeans.

  “So it’s like that, huh?” Jack took a step towards Kate and she let loose another icy blast of water.

  “You got me. I surrender.” Jack raised both hands in the air.

  “Fine.” Kate nodded solemnly and reached over the dirty dishes to turn the water off. “Truce.”

  Jack grabbed a half empty Poland Spring bottle off the counter and doused Kate.

  “You liar!” Kate shrieked and lunged toward him with the sink hose cocked.

  Jack took a step back and tripped over Sarah Jessica Barker who was standing behind him exactly at knee level. Jack ended up
sprawled on his back staring up at the modern chandelier fashioned out of tarnished antique knives and forks.

  “Wow! We just met a few hours ago and now I’ve got you here in my apartment on your back.” Kate reached her hand out and tried to pull Jack up, but slipped in the pool of water and landed right on top of him.

  Kate’s hair dripped in waves ending in upside down question marks as she leaned over Jack. A black droplet trailed from Kate’s eyelash down her cheek and pooled in the heart-shaped bow of her full upper lip. She smelled like an apple orchard after an afternoon rain shower.

  Kate exhaled a slow steady breath of air that pushed out of her barely parted lips and when Jack breathed in, he felt like she had burrowed her way inside him. Another drop of mascara laced water trailed down from Kate’s eyes and Jack caught the black teardrop with the soft pad of his thumb. He left his hand resting on Kate’s cheek and felt the ins and outs of her breathing.

  Kate closed her eyes and leaned into Jack’s touch, a small sigh escaping her mouth. Jack lifted his head just enough to catch Kate’s lips with his. She tasted like cinnamon, sweet with a little exotic spice mixed in. They kissed deeply, with abandon, and all at once stopped being strangers.

  Suddenly, Lady Gaga’s “Telephone” belted out from Jack’s back pocket. Jack jerked back from Kate, the sound jolting him into reality. “Shit!”

  “I never took you for a Lady Gaga fan. The last guy I made out with who was a Gaga fan was bi-curious. Please, tell me you’re not bi-curious too because that was a total nightmare.”

  “What?” Jack shook his head and raised a finger to his lips. “That’s Lauren’s ring tone.”

  “Uncle Jack? Where are you? You’re never late!” Kate backed away from Jack, while Lauren shrieked in his ear. Jack’s wet tee shirt clung to his stomach and he felt suddenly cold when Kate withdrew her warm body.

  “I’ll be there in five minutes. Wait with Irina till I get there.”

  “Hurry up!” Lauren’s voice wavered between outraged and anxious. “I’m the last one here.”