Dating Kosher

by Greene, Michaela

  She looked from me back up to Nate. “Oh. Are you any relation to…”

  I jumped in, “No, he’s not, Bubby. Nate, this is my grandmother, Sophie Rosenblatt.”

  Nate nodded. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rosenblatt.”

  “And you, Nate Cooper. You’re a nice boy. Thank you for helping me.”

  Nate just smiled.

  “You into picking up old ladies?” I winked.

  The elevator doors opened and Bev, fully dressed, emerged. Noticing us immediately, she walked over. “Hi Mrs. Rosenblatt, you look so nice.”

  “Thank you, Beverly.” Bubby smoothed her hands over her dress. “I’ll leave you kids, I’m just going to find my seat.”

  “Can I help you to a table?” Nate asked, offering Bubby his arm.

  My grandmother’s eyes twinkled as she nodded up at Nate, sparing a wink for me as she looped her arm through his. “What a lovely young man.”

  “Looks like Nate’s in with your grandmother,” Bev said once they were out of earshot.

  “Yeah, looks like it.” I watched as they walked slowly into the ballroom, him leaning over as she spoke to him.

  Bev took a deep breath. “I need a drink, please tell me the bar is open.”

  I nodded. “Amen, sister. I could definitely use to self-medicate. It’s in the ballroom, let’s go.”

  * * *

  The rest of the wedding guests had been treated to cocktails and hors d’oeuvres immediately after the ceremony, but since I was otherwise occupied by changing my clothes and rushing my cat to the emergency vet, my stomach remained empty until dinner was served at almost nine-thirty. Nate must have also been starving, but didn’t complain.

  The band leader announced dinner was served and asked for everyone to take their seats. I had been in mine for fifteen agonizing minutes, eyeing the pats of butter in the center of the table in my desperate hunger. If someone were to actually see me slipping one of the tabs of pure fat off of its paper square and onto my tongue, I would be absolutely mortified, so my stomach remained empty. It complained loudly, making me thankful for the band’s nonstop music.

  Nate and I had been among the last to pick up our seating place cards from the large skirted table in the lobby, so I wasn’t sure who would be sitting with us; Susan had just said that I would be sitting with ‘family.’ Considering my seemingly never-ending string of awful luck, I could just guess who she meant by that.

  Sure enough, after the announcement, Jen shuffled over to the table and sat down across from me, not bothering to even acknowledge Nate or me. Fine by me. I fought the urge to say something under my breath but my bubby always told me that ladies didn’t badmouth others. Not that it ever stopped me before, but Nate didn’t need to hear me being catty—he’d already seen some of the worst parts of me and quite frankly, I wasn’t so sure why he was still around. I was just glad he was.

  My cousins, Uncle Moishe’s brood, along with their respective significant others took their places at the table, filling in the empty seats surrounding Nate, myself and Jen.

  Mitchell, the oldest of Moishe’s kids and by far, the most boring, pulled out a chair for his wife, Sheila, who was very pregnant. With a loud grunt, and looking very uncomfortable, she dropped herself heavily into her chair. I struggled mentally, probing in my memory banks, trying to remember the Sunday breakfast with Dad several months before when he had told me they were expecting and how it was such a miracle. I remembered something vague about them having to do some fertility treatments and it had cost a fortune. They could afford it, though; Mitchell was some sort of big wig at a computer company. Microsoft or maybe IBM; I could never remember.

  I smiled at Sheila and she smiled back, exhaling deeply as tiny beads of sweat erupted from her forehead. Yikes, I hoped she didn’t go into labor; I’d had enough drama for one day.

  My bitch of a cousin Lauren and her boyfriend approached the table and claimed the two chairs on the other side of Nate. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that Lauren worked weekends as a dominatrix; God knows she sure had the part down. She wore a slim black gown over her bony frame, three-inch stilettos, and way too much thick black goth makeup, matching her blue-black hair. Her boyfriend was nondescript other than the invisible leash she had installed around his neck. I never could get his name right. Mark or Mike or something; she let him speak so infrequently, that it hardly mattered.

  Her eyes flicked to the bandage on my forehead. “Botched Botox injections?”

  I scowled at her. “Sit down, Lauren.”

  Lauren barely had her ass in her chair before she shoved her hand at Nate, not even giving me the opportunity to introduce him.

  “Hello, I’m Lauren, Shoshanna’s first cousin. Never Laurie, only Lauren, please.” She closed her hand over Nate’s like a snake closes its jaws around a mouse. “And you are?”

  Nate smiled broadly, as though he was sincerely pleased to make my cousin’s acquaintance. “I am Shoshanna’s escort, Nate. Never Nathan, only Nate, please.”

  For the tiniest of milliseconds, Lauren faltered, her lip quivering ever so slightly. She did recover, but not before I was given the extreme satisfaction of seeing her waver. I’d never seen her off-balance and that in itself was worth all of the day’s drama and stress.

  Her stumble was not long-lived. “Well, Nate, it’s nice to meet you. Shoshanna hasn’t mentioned you,” she purred, keeping her eyes on Nate’s.

  “That’s because I haven’t seen you since last Passover,” I reminded her.

  She looked at me for the first time, her eyes narrowed to slits framed by her thick black mascaraed eyelashes. “Ah yes, the buffet where you gave new meaning to the term ‘all you can eat shrimp.’ Nate, do you keep kosher?”

  Reading between the lines, I knew Lauren was just being nosy, trying to figure out if Nate was Jewish. As if I would ever bring a gentile to a wedding! (Okay, the irony is not lost on me, but as if I would ever openly bring a gentile to a wedding!)

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sardonic grin slide onto Jen’s face; she was enjoying this. I wanted to beat it off of her. Why did I have to be surrounded by such bitches?

  “No, I don’t keep kosher, Lauren. After what they did to me when I was a scant eight days old, I sort of lost my taste for Jewish laws.”

  The entire table broke into laughter, except for Lauren, of course.

  Score two for Nate. I looked over at him and grinned. He returned the smile, adding a wink. I wondered suddenly if he had in fact been circumcised, like all Jewish men were on their eighth day after birth, and caught myself just before a blush threatened to color my face. I forcefully pushed the thought out of my mind, telling myself that it didn’t matter whether he was or not, since I’d never be that…eh hem…close to him.

  Since he not only matched her barb for barb but also wouldn’t be the center of any family scandal, Lauren suddenly lost interest in Nate and turned from him to sip at her wine.

  I didn’t know the woman who my cousin Simon had brought as his date. She seemed nervous and fidgeted with her water glass, running her fingers up and down through the beads of condensation that had accumulated on the outside of the goblet. Simon is gay but was very much still in the closet and insisted on bringing female dates to family functions to throw everyone off. I knew his secret; had seen him and his partner holding hands at an open air jazz concert two years previous where he had begged me not to out him to the family. I had always suspected it of him and he was definitely my coolest cousin so I had promised him his secret was safe with me. To my knowledge, I was the only one in the family who knew.

  “I’m Shoshanna and this is Nate,” I said politely to Simon’s date.

  “Ugh, I’m sorry,” Simon piped up, shaking his head at his own faux pas. “This is Saffron.”

  “Wow, what a cool name,” I said, always having wished my parents had named me something exotic instead of saddling me with Shoshanna. Most people couldn’t even pronounce my nam
e properly, let alone attempt to spell it.

  “Thanks,” Saffron said, looking down into her lap. She reminded me of a timid little mouse.

  That left one vacant seat at the table.

  On cue, Jacob Weinman wandered over to the table and for the first time that day, I got a good look at him head on.

  Wow. He’d obviously had some sort of extreme makeover. He’d gotten a decent haircut, contacts and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  He sat in the empty seat between Simon and Mitchell’s fidgeting wife. “I guess I’m the only one here stag, huh?” he laughed nervously.

  “I’m here by myself, dumbass,” Jen announced loudly. Nice to see she wasn’t just a bitch to me. What a lovely family. I wondered if Susan drank during her pregnancies.

  I decided right then and there that some serious drinking was in order. “Simon, let’s go get some drinks for the table before the bar closes for dinner, shall we?”

  “Good idea,” Simon looked over at his (wink wink) ‘date.’ “What can I get you, Saffron?”

  She looked up at him and smiled weakly. “White wine spritzer?” He nodded and went around the table, taking everyone else’s order.

  I pushed my chair back and as I rose, leaned in close to Nate’s ear. “You’re doing great. What can I get you?”

  “Just a Coke, please.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded over at the bottles of wine already on the table in preparation for the meal. “I’ll have a glass with dinner.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said, joining in step with Simon as we walked toward the bar.

  He looped his arm through mine as we crossed the empty dance floor. “What happened to your face?”

  I cringed. “Ugh, it’s not even worth mentioning. I fell and hit my head on the coffee table right before the ceremony this afternoon.”

  “Oh, Shosh.” Simon stifled a laugh. “You okay, though?”

  I nodded. “Five stitches. I’d show you but I don’t have a spare bandage to cover it back up.”

  “So how are you doing, really? I haven’t seen you in ages…”

  “I’m okay,” I said. “What about you? When are you going to ‘fess up and come out of the closet already? It’s cool to be gay now, this isn’t last century, you know.”

  He laughed. “As soon as you ‘fess up and stop passing off this shaygetz as a nice Jewish boy. Although, I must say, he’s doing a great job.”

  I looked at him sideways. “You didn’t follow him into the bathroom, did you?”

  Simon barked out a laugh. “Funny girl. Tempting, but no. Still, you just basically admitted it.”

  His intuition had always been extremely sharp. It was my turn to laugh. “Touché. You got me. He is cute, though, isn’t he?”

  “Cute? That man is magnificent. But I did think I’d be dancing the hora at your wedding by now. What’s going on with you? What happened to Max?”

  “Max was a train wreck.”

  Simon nodded, knowingly. “Well, that’s true. I am no authority on straight relationships, but I’m so glad you got rid of that.”

  It was amazing how since the breakup with Max, people were crawling out of the woodwork to tell me how wrong he had been for me. Where were they when I was in the relationship? No one had said anything then.

  I shrugged as we approached the bar. “Vodka martini and a Coke,” I said to the bartender. “I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t found the right Jewish guy yet.”

  Simon shook his head, a frown deepening the creases in his brow.

  “So who’s the girl?” I asked.

  Simon looked back at our table. Nate had shuffled over to sit beside Saffron and they were both laughing. A sudden pang of jealousy fluttered across my chest. Why did he have to be so damn friendly?

  “She’s a girl from work. I practically had to beg her to come, but I just couldn’t bear coming by myself to sit with my perfect brother Mitch and his perfect pregnant wife and my witch of a sister and her chew toy. It’s just too much pressure.”

  Silently, I thanked my parents for keeping me an only child. Although I certainly understood what he meant by pressure.

  “Well you could have aligned yourself with Susan’s kids: bitchella and doofus-boy. They’re both single, how shocking.”

  Simon chuckled. “Sad, we’re from generation spoiled. They’re no worse than my own sister. Speaking of whom, I’m sorry Laurie (he called her that to drive her nuts, I suppose a sibling’s prerogative) was such a bitch, but your shaygetz seemed to hold his own quite nicely.”

  “Yeah, he does do okay, doesn’t he? Where is Ben tonight?” I’d never officially met Simon’s long-term partner other than the one quick intro at the jazz concert, but I thought it was only polite to ask after him.

  “At home, sulking.”

  I snorted. “I don’t blame him. I’d be pissed if you hid me out at home too.”

  Once mine and Nate’s drinks were placed on the bar, Simon rattled off the rest of the order to the bartender, turning back to me when he was done.

  “I know.” He looked at his shoes. “It’s not fair to him, but it’s just not the right time yet. You know, my mom would probably be okay with it, but my dad… And what about Bubby?”

  “When’s it going to be the right time? When your dad’s dead?”

  Simon smirked. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  I shook my head. “You have to be who you are. Anything less and you’re living a lie. So what if it means upsetting a few family members along the way?” I took a sip of my martini. “And anyway, look around; I think this family could use a bit of mixing up. If Ben is half as cool as you are, I’m sure he’s great.”

  Simon smiled and squeezed my arm. “Thanks, Shoshie. He is great.” He looked around the room his eyes darting from table to table. “What do you think Bubby would say?”

  I followed Simon’s eyes to where our grandmother was sitting at a table among nine other heads of white or graying hair (two verging on blue). “I don’t know. She’s pretty mellow these days. She even mentioned a man at her residence that she liked.” I smiled. “But that’s a far cry from finding out your grandson is a faygeleh.”

  “Hmm,” Simon said as he took the laden tray of drinks and we walked back to our table. As we approached, Nate slid over to his chair, but continued talking to Saffron, “So then he says ‘I told you I didn’t have a Chihuahua!’”

  Saffron giggled.

  “Thanks, Shoshanna,” Nate said when I placed his drink in front of him.

  Usually, I take pride in being the life of the party, but the black hole of hunger in my stomach prevented me from doing much at dinner other than trying to fill it. Not that the crowd at the table was much fun anyway; other than Nate and Simon talking about cars or sports, there was almost no conversation. Yawn.

  Just as she had feared, Bev was stuck at the castoffs table with some people I’d never met but could imagine were of little significance to the bride and groom, considering their being relegated to the very back corner of the ballroom. A couple of times Bev had caught my eye, making faces and rolling her eyes at her tablemates. I tipped my martini at her, and she returned the gesture. Even she knew copious martinis made any situation a little more bearable.

  * * *

  After martini number seven, things began to get dicey.

  Right after dinner I had gone into the lobby with my cell phone and had called the vet’s office to inquire about Armani. They told me that they’d had to catheterize him because of some sort of urinary tract blockage. Cringing, I listened to them tell me about the procedure, but they said at least he was now unblocked and passing urine, which they said was a good thing.

  They also said he would have to stay at least overnight, if not until Monday. Relieved that he was going to be okay, I told the girl that I would be by on Sunday to talk to the veterinarian and visit with Armani. It was all I could do to keep from crying right there in the hotel lobby. I was sure he was t
errified; my poor little Armani.

  Since there was nothing else I could do about that situation, I decided to crank up my drinking.

  Mitch and his wife had gone home the second the speeches were over and in looking at Sheila, her discomfort making my own uterus hurt, I don’t think it was a moment too soon. I half-expected Mitch to come running back into the ballroom screaming for boiled water and a doctor because she’d gone into labor waiting for the valet. Lauren and her boyfriend had disappeared, and Jen and Jacob were out in the lobby sitting in the club chairs and most certainly complaining to each other about the nuptials, me, the food and everything else on the planet.

  That left Simon, Saffron, Nate and me to sit at the table, lingering over half-eaten desserts and free-flowing martinis. Well, admittedly I was the only one drinking martinis, but they were definitely free-flowing.

  Bev sidled over and sat at the table with a sigh.

  “What’s up girlfriend?” I slurred, hoping my alcohol-induced speech impediment wasn’t as noticeable to others as it was to me.

  She shrugged. “Not much.”

  I looked longingly into the empty depths of my glass.

  Turning my head, I looked at Nate, making sure to bat my eyelashes seductively. “Get me another martini?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, but if you can’t walk to get it yourself, you’ve had too many.”

  Cruel man. How did he know my legs had become liquid? Well screw him, I’d get my own drink. “C’mon Bev, let’s get a drink.” I grabbed her arm and pulled myself up out of my chair. Someone laughed. It was Simon, I glared at him, pursing my lips before I turned on my heel and made my way to the bar.

  Leaning heavily on Bev, every step was deliberate. She was used to me being like this, but usually, she was drunk too. “Why you so dry tonight, Bevvy?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Come on, there’s gotta be a reason. You do know it’s free booze, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I dunno, I guess I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”

  “Weird.”

  “Hey, Shosh?”

  “Ya?”

  “What do you think of Jacob? He looks pretty good tonight, huh?”