Next Year in Israel

by Sarah Bridgeton

“I’m having second thoughts about college,” Jake said.

  A car honked, and I blocked out the street noise. “I thought you wanted to go to Harvard or Yale?”

  “That’s what my Dad wants. I want to wait to figure out career stuff, ‘cause I don’t know what I want to be.”

  “Welcome to the clueless club,” I said. “There’s no membership fee.” Sometimes I felt like a moron because I had no career goals. Mom had known she wanted to be an accountant before college, and she had held several part-time accounting jobs by the time she graduated, which helped her get a ‘plum’ job after college. Was I gonna drift from one stupid job to another because I had no goal? I looked deeper into his eyes. He was so together. Popular. Honors society. Varsity sports. But underneath it all, he was dealing with the same kind of worries that I had.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Don’t want to waste my time in courses until I know what courses I should be taking.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. Life was confusing if you weren’t sure about your goals.

  “I’d volunteer for Habitat for Humanity,” he said. “Put myself to use while I figure it out.” His plan was rather noble. Behind the perfect boy was a kind person. Somebody who wanted to be helpful.

  “Are your parents okay with it?” Mine wouldn’t be. They expected me to go to college right away.

  “No, they think I’ll get distracted and never go.”

  “It’s your decision, not theirs.” He wasn’t unfocused; he just wanted to do it right.

  “Dad said they’ll cut me off financially if I do it.”

  I had assumed Jake had a good relationship with his parents because he never once complained about them. “He might not mean it.”

  “He does; he’s trying to control me.”

  I put down my backpack. “What does your mom think?”

  Jake flinched. “She’s with him. They’re against me.”

  “She… They might come around.” I wanted to inspire him. It sounded like he had already lost too much sleep over it.

  “They threatened to kick me out of the house.”

  He needed some kind of leverage. “Most colleges let you defer for a year after you’ve been accepted. Wait until you get in before you bring up it up again. Maybe having the acceptance will work in your favor.”

  “They won’t budge. According to them, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “You’ve got to bring it up again.” I didn’t want to give him false hope, but also I didn’t want him to give up.

  “It’s like they don’t trust me.”

  “It’s your life. If you really want to do it, you’ll find a way.”

  He looked at me. “So you have no clue what you want to be, either?”

  “Nope. I totally get where you are coming from. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the path to slackerhood. Hope I can figure it out when I get to college.”

  “You’re not a slacker.” He smiled. “That’s from a slacker-in-training.”

  “I could be a secret slacker or something.” The heat in my chest was rising.

  He bent closer. “I’m the slacker.”

  My heart thudded faster. “Just like you, I want a career that’s worthwhile.”

  His mouth was so close that I could smell his delicious breath. “You’ll find one,” he said. “Your eyes are pretty. They look golden today.”

  My insides melted. We were in that sweet spot where the energy was electric and everything came naturally. “Thanks. Leah’s waiting for us.” I turned away, afraid of what would happen if I stayed there too long.

  ~ * * * ~

  The next morning, I pushed Leah’s green blanket off of my legs. Like the rest of her apartment, the décor in Leah’s guest bedroom was on the gaudy side. The brown crib next to my bed was covered in orange sheets.

  “You’re finally awake.” Leah came into the room. She must have been hovering in the hallway, waiting for me to get up. “You missed services.”

  “What are we doing now?” I closed my eyes for a moment.

  “Eating. You must be starving. It’s almost noon.”

  I stretched my arms, Shabbat dinner the night before had gone on until midnight. Six of Leah’s friends had shown up for dinner. After several Friday night dinners at the kfar, I had been able to follow the service. I had even recognized some of the prayers, and I didn’t mind Leah’s extra rituals, like washing our hands from a silver pitcher.

  Leah leaned against the crib. “My daughters slept a lot when they were your age. Were you comfortable?”

  “Yeah.” Leah’s bed was like a million feathers compared to the kfar’s metal cot.

  “I’m glad Jake is here,” Leah said.

  “Me too.” Getting to know him better had been the best part of the weekend. “Is he up?”

  “Probably. You should get dressed.”

  I eyed the timer plugged into the outlet for the lamp on the nightstand. “I shouldn’t turn the lights on or off, right?” Leah had told me the night before not to touch the light switch.

  “That’s right. I don’t turn the lights on or off on Shabbat. Just like I don’t have to cook and do other things.”

  I nodded and hoped she wouldn’t go into an in-depth explanation. It could take hours, especially if the list was long. “Is Jake coming over soon?”

  Leah sighed. “Yes, he is.”

  I got up, feeling anxious. I was probably being rude. She was letting me stay at her house. I should listen to whatever she had to say, no matter how long it took. “Is there a printed list of stuff that I shouldn’t do? I don’t want to accidentally do something wrong.”

  “They’re not wrong,” Leah said. “They’re just not Orthodox traditions. Speaking of traditions, one Orthodox tradition is a leisurely lunch on Shabbat. Why don’t you go put on something nice, and we’ll have lunch.” She had instructed me to bring a skirt or a dress for Saturday, and I had packed my purple skirt and a cream-colored sweater.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, Leah was sitting on the bed, waiting for me. “What a beautiful outfit,” she said. “You remind me of my youngest daughter, Channa.”

  “The one who just had a baby?”

  She tucked a strand of hair into her bun. “Yes. She’s in London with my new grandson.”

  “You should have gone with them.”

  “They’ll be home on Monday. I didn’t want to leave the kfar for two weeks. Look at his picture.” She picked up a small photo album that was on the nightstand.

  I turned to the first page of her brag book. The mother holding the baby had a red-lipsticked mouth like Leah. One thing stood out. “Why is she wearing a scarf?” The scarf wasn’t a headband. Her hair was tucked all the way inside it.

  Leah smiled. “It’s either a wig or a scarf.”

  I was confused. Leah didn’t wear a scarf. “Are you wearing a wig?”

  “No. Channa wants to be modest. By covering her hair, she feels less naked and not as focused on her appearance. She’s trying to be less shallow and live her life more consciously.”

  I understood wanting to feel less naked. My first time at the kfar swimming pool, I had worn a shirt over my bathing suit because I didn’t want guys staring at my body. But covering up hair seemed unnatural and extreme. “How come you don’t cover your hair?”

  “Some Orthodox women do it. Channa’s more observant than me.” She sounded proud. “Ready for lunch?”

  ~ * * * ~

  Jake showed up for lunch, and we sat next to each other at her dining room table, which took up most of her living room. From the table, I could see white dishes left from dinner piled in a bowl of soapy water on the counter.

  “How was the apartment next door?” I asked while Leah was in the kitchen. “Was it weird?”

  “Her friends kept sneaking God into the conversation. It took a while to get used to God this and God that. You know why they separated us?”

  “Why?”

  “What did I say about the rules of Shab
bat?”

  I put my elbows on the white tablecloth. “I asked Leah. It only applies if you’re married.”

  He winked at me. “Liar.”

  My heart warmed again. “Liar, what?”

  Leah placed a bowl of stew down. It had potatoes, beans, onions, and barley. “What are you two chatting about?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Hmm,” Jake inhaled the steam. “Cholent. I love cholent.”

  Since cooking wasn’t allowed on Shabbat, Leah had prepared it on Friday and kept it warm in a crockpot.

  I swallowed a forkful. “Delicious.”

  “It was my husband’s favorite.”

  “What was his name, again?” Jake asked. Pictures of the gray-bearded man dressed in a black suit were in the living room.

  “Samuel.” Leah spoke of him often, rarely using his name. It was always “He” or “my husband.” She smiled. “He insisted we have guests every Friday night for Shabbat dinner. Such a mitzvah.”

  “Did he wear tefillin?” Jake asked, referring to the black boxes and leather straps the Orthodox men wore on the airplane and at the Western Wall.

  I thought of the men praying on the airplane and the ones at the Wall who were dressed in black. They seemed to be less weird because her husband was like them.

  Leah smiled. “Yes.”

  “Do you wish he hadn’t volunteered for the Army?” I said.

  “Sometimes,” she answered. “Orthodox can opt out, and he did until the day a stranger called him a cop-out for not serving.” Leah dabbed her lips with a cloth napkin, although she didn’t have any crumbs. “He volunteered later that day. I don’t know why he let it bother him. Everyone in this community receives dirty looks and hateful comments at one time or another. He wouldn’t have been in the accident if he hadn’t gone.”

  I shouldn’t have asked about it. Talking about his death soured the taste of my cholent.

  “His buddies had me in stitches from ghastly impersonations of Army life when they came to visit during shiva.”

  Grandma told me she sat shiva when her parents passed away. It sounded to me like shiva wasn’t a time for jokes.

  “I had to laugh,” Leah said. “It was the last day of shiva. After days of crying, I had to do something like laugh.”

  Jake fiddled with his spoon. “Becca and I plan to head back on the five o’clock bus.”

  “There’s a later bus. Friends are coming over for Havdalah. We should be done by eight.”

  “We have the history test tomorrow,” Jake said.

  “It’s a simple service,” she said. “You’ll enjoy it.”

  “No thanks,” Jake said. “We need to study.”

  Leah picked up a bowl of cloves from the counter. “Suit yourselves. Since you must leave before the service, I’ll go through what you’ll be missing. “

  I paid attention when she showed us a two-wicked braided candle and explained how she said goodbye to Shabbat. I kept waiting for her to ask us to stay, but she didn’t.

  “Move it,” Jake said when Leah let us go. “We have one minute to get the bus stop.”

  I picked up my pace. “Her demo was only five minutes. We could have left earlier if you hadn’t taken a half-hour to get your backpack. What happened?”

  “When her friends brought up God, I brought up baseball. They’re Padres fans.”

  “I couldn’t live with all their rules,” I said. “What about you?”

  “Not. Dinner last night was okay, though.”

  “Kind of cool.” I thought of how dressing up and good food made it fun. “Leah loved it.” The last person at the bus stop was stepping up to the bus as we jaywalked across the street.

  “Run, Becca,” Jake yelled and started to run.

  “Wait for us,” I yelled as the bus pulled out. We were so close and kept running. Maybe it’d stop. But the driver continued on, waving to us while the bus speed away.

  “Let’s go back to Leah’s,” I wheezed.

  “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s take a different bus,” Jake said.

  I jerked my head. “We don’t know which one to take.” Other than a few cars, the streets were empty. The neighborhood seemed safe, but it was getting dark outside.

  Jake smiled. “Buses and the Orthodox. Sounds like a movie that goes straight to DVD.”

  “Not funny.” A torn classified newspaper section blew on my foot. I kicked it away.

  “We’ll figure it out. There’s a map in English posted at the stop.” Jake scanned the street. The coast was clear. He stepped into the street, walking close to the curb.

  “What’s wrong with going back to Leah’s?” I followed him on the sidewalk.

  “Did you really want to stay for havdalah?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why did you just say ‘Let’s go back’?” Once he reached the bus stop, he ducked his head to read the schedule.

  “Leah wanted us to.”

  Jake eyed me over his shoulder. “Want to make her happy? Bet you can’t stand to disappoint anybody.”

  My face flushed. Was I that easy to read? “Well, yeah. I like making people happy.”

  “There’s another bus that should be here any second.” Jake said. “I got us covered.”

  “Cool,” I said. “Crisis solved.”

  “It’s like you’re all good,” he said. “Thinking about everybody else first.”

  “Don’t be fooled. I’m rotten inside.” I put my backpack down and couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll always remember this weekend.”

  There was a guy a few years older than us on the bench, checking his phone. “You two students at Tel Aviv University?”

  “We’re high school exchange students,” Jake said.

  “You look older. Like it here?” the stranger asked.

  “‘Course I love it here,” I said. There was more to it than changing who I used to be. I felt like I belonged, and I hadn’t felt anything close to belonging in years.

  “She’s a picky person,” Jake said. “Finds it hard to love anybody.”

  “Totally untrue.” I rolled my eyes. “Only those who aren’t mean jerks.”

  “I’m meeting my friends at the beach. You want to come?” the stranger asked.

  Weren’t there any hermits in Israel? That was cool of him to invite us, but we needed to get to the kfar.

  “No,” Jake answered. “We have to study for a test.”

  “Hebrew?” the stranger asked.

  “History,” Jake answered, then started speaking to him in Hebrew.

  Show-off. He had to flaunt his Hebrew. At least he wasn’t being a jerk about it.

  Should I have let the kiss happen in front of Leah’s? We were getting to know each other better, but it was complicated. If we hooked up, everybody would be talking about it. It’s their second hookup. Are they exclusive? He flirts with everybody. She must be his friend with benefits. She’s not good enough to be his girlfriend.

  Jake said, “Becca,” and continued in Hebrew.

  “It’s not nice to talk about me when I can’t understand.” I wasn’t gonna fall for him again. The He-stood-you-up flop had almost ruined my social life.

  “Is she your girlfriend?” The guy asked.

  “She wants to be,” Jake said.

  I smiled at my backpack on the ground. “I am not his girlfriend. It would ruin my reputation.”

  Jake bumped my knee. A shiver went up my spine.

  The bus stopped in front of us. “Nice to meet you,” Jake said to our new friend and picked up my backpack. “I’ll carry this.”

  “Thanks.” I stepped onto the bus.

  Jake took my hand “I’ll get your fare too.”

  I squeezed his fingers. He was right; I wanted more than just friendship. Nobody at the kfar had to know if we hooked up again. I didn’t have to blab to Mia. He didn’t have to tell Ben or Caleb. It could be our little secret. If there was one thing I was good at, it was secrets. After our first hookup, we had slid
right back into the friendship zone. It could be the same if we both kept our mouths shut, and I wouldn’t have to do any damage control.

  I could see the kfar as the bus slowed down. “That was fast.” I kept my hand in his.

  “Want to study for the test?” he said.

  I wanted to kiss his fingers one by one. Why deny myself something I wanted? He wanted it too. “Okay.” I picked up my backpack with my free hand and followed him off the bus. On the pavement, he turned around and waited for me. “We can go to my room,” I said as I stepped down onto the ground. “Mia’s always in Ben’s room on Sundays till curfew.”

  Jake leaned over and whispered, “Good.” I had a plan for my room. I’d give him a thank-you hug when we got there. After all, he went to Leah’s with me. Jake was smart enough to know what the hug meant. He’d hold me tight, and then I’d look up into his eyes, and he’d kiss me. It’d be the same kind of hot kiss we had before.

  “Hey Jake, Rebecca.”

  We turned around. Mia, Ben, and Jordyn were heading toward us.

  Jake let go of my hand.

  “How was Leah’s?” Mia asked.

  Jake smiled at me. “Fine.”

  “Great,” I said.

  Jordyn’s eyes narrowed in on me. “How was Shabbat dinner?”

  “Fine,” Jake said. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

  He was on the same wavelength. Get away from them. Get to my room. Make out.

  “Did Leah make you pray all night?” Jordyn asked. “Were the men jerks?”

  Since when did Jordyn care about the Orthodox? She had politely turned down Leah’s invitation. “They were on their best behavior for their guests,” I said.

  “Ready to convert?” Jordyn asked.

  “Nah.” I didn’t know how religious I wanted to be.

  Jordyn turned to Jake. “What did Leah’s apartment look like?”

  “We’ll tell you later,” I said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Mia smiled, obviously not buying my excuse.

  “Rebecca wants you, Jake,” Jordyn said. “She’s slobbering.”

  I wanted to punch her.

  Ben snickered.

  “She knows what sexy is,” Jake said.

  I shifted my weight.

  “We’re going to the Deleck,” Jordyn said. “Want to come with us?”