The Kiddush Ladies

by Susan Sofayov

  “Okay, Jake. I’ll find something to hold us over. But promise me, it won’t be forever.”

  ***

  The phone on her boss’s desk rang, pulling her from memory lane. No. She shook her head, pushed the lock button in the center of the knob, and pulled the door shut, letting the phone continue ringing.

  The bus came late, and by the time she reached home, her son, Ezra, had finished showering. “Hurry up, Mom. We’re gonna be late.”

  They were spending the first night of Rosh Hashanah with Miriam and Joe. Kitchen phobic Miriam always hired a chef and a waitress to oversee special events. Naomi never said it out loud, but eating holiday meals at Miriam’s house made her feel like she was living the life of the rich and famous.

  She stared into the closet, deciding what to wear.

  “Speed it up, Mom,” Ezra yelled from the bottom of the steps.

  She smiled while reaching for a navy silk blouse and a camel colored skirt. When her older son, Josh, lived at home, he would rush through his shower to be the first person dressed. He loved to complain about his slow-moving parents. Now, Ezra continued the tradition and grabbed every opportunity to repeat the admonishments she dished out to him on school mornings when he over slept his alarm.

  She missed Josh. Since the holiday started on a Wednesday evening, he couldn’t come home. It would be too hard to make up two days of missed classes. He stayed at Penn State and planned to celebrate the holiday with his cute girlfriend. They met at the Hillel Jewish Center on campus freshman year and had been together ever since.

  ***

  Miriam greeted Naomi and Ezra with outstretched arms. “L’Shana Tovah!” she said, before slapping a pink lipsticked kiss on Ezra’s cheek. Naomi closed the ornate oak and lead-glass front door behind them.

  Miriam led them to her huge cherry-paneled dining room. “Hurry, everyone is having cocktails in the dining room. Joe wants to start in a few minutes.”

  Naomi breathed in the scent of apple strudel and brisket that permeated the house.

  A lanky teenage boy dressed in black pants and white shirt extended the tray of miniature sushi rolls balanced on his palm as they entered the room. Naomi reached for one and popped it into her mouth. Ezra plucked two rolls from the tray and struck up a conversation with the waiter. From what she could overhear, the discussion revolved around a “completely stupid English assignment.”

  She nudged Ezra, who was still chewing and engrossed in the waiter’s opinion. “Talk to him later. Let’s go.” She pulled him by the hand toward the far side of the table.

  A couple of the guests already sat in their assigned seats, but most lingered around the perimeter of the room, finishing their cocktails and munching on hors d’oevures. She knew from experience that Joe’s family took up eight of the twelve chairs. Miriam suffered the misfortune of being the only child of two people who were also only children. She didn’t even have a cousin, which was the reason Naomi never turned down her holiday invitations. Tonight, she and Ezra played the role of the family Miriam lacked.

  “It’s time to start,” Joe announced, and the guests moved to their spots.

  He gestured for Ezra to sit on his left and indicated that she should sit on his right, between Miriam and his older brother, Simon.

  Simon had a great smile and a permanent impish twinkle in his eyes. For a brief moment, until his wife gave her a slight wave from across the table, she found herself wishing he was single.

  Joe rose from his captain’s seat, at the head of the table, and everyone followed. He lifted the silver kiddush cup. It reflected the soft light from the crystal chandelier hanging high above their heads. In a clear voice, he chanted the blessing over the wine. Rather than passing the cup around the table for each person to sip, he pointed to the pre-filled tiny silver kiddush cups sitting at each guest’s place setting.

  Joe passed his cup to Miriam, watched her take a sip, and then kissed her cheek. “L’shanah tovah, sweetheart,” he said.

  Miriam leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Happy New Year, my love.”

  Naomi smiled in admiration of their relationship, bashert--a true match made in heaven.

  “Time to wash.” Joe led the group to the kitchen, filled the two handled ritual washing cup, and recited the Hebrew blessing while pouring water over his hands. One by one, all twelve of the guests repeated this act.

  When they returned to the dining room, the blessings continued. First over the challah they dipped into honey and then the apples. She loved listening to his deep baritone chant the ancient words. But she was even happier when the waiter finally served the first course--gefilte fish with a dill sauce, Israeli salad, hummus and cucumber salad, a mix of Ashkenazi and Sephardic traditions. She flipped open the burgundy linen napkin and set it across her lap, excited to begin the feast.

  As they ate, Simon and Joe launched into stories from their childhood. It didn’t take long for her and everyone else at the table to become absorbed in the hysterical images their words conjured. She couldn’t stop laughing when Simon told a story about getting caught stealing doughnuts from the back of a delivery truck. He stood, waving his arms to imitate the driver, screaming in Yiddish, as he chased him and Joe down Murray Avenue.

  “Don’t even think of doing something like that,” she mouthed to Ezra who rolled his eyes in response.

  Joe could barely contain his own laughter while telling a story about a poker game gone bad. On a hot July night, he, Simon, and a few other friends were playing poker and drinking beer behind the high school. When they saw flashing lights approaching, they all started running. Joe thought he made a clean get away, until he tripped over the curb and heard his ankle crack. The police found him, with his beer can still in his hand, and called for an ambulance. His parents met him and an underage drinking citation at the hospital.

  The crowd laughed through the first course and continued until the matzo ball soup bowls were removed from the table.

  The more wine they drank the louder the laughter grew, until the main course was served. The crowd went silent while eating the melt-in-your-mouth brisket and an overabundance of side dishes. As much as she hated doing it, Naomi stopped eating before all the food on her plate was gone.

  She turned to Miriam. “This is the point in the meal where the entire group should either run around the block or do a group nap.”

  “Run now and nap after dessert.”

  As if orchestrated, the moment Miriam finished saying the word dessert, the waiter pushed a cart of apple strudel into the dining room. The waitress trailed behind, carrying an artfully arranged fruit plate. She leaned in between Naomi and Miriam and set it on a trivet in the center of the mahogany table. Once it was perfectly situated, the waitress walked to the buffet and picked up two silver pots of steaming coffee.

  “It’s lovely!” Simon’s wife said, stabbing the silver serving fork into an out-of-season piece of honeydew.

  The lanky waiter slipped a slice of the powdered sugar covered strudel in front of Naomi.

  “Regular or decaf?” the waitress asked from a point behind Naomi’s shoulder.

  “Decaf,” Naomi replied, inhaling the rich scent. It tasted even better than Starbucks. “Miriam, what kind of coffee is this?”

  “Jamaican Blue Mountain.”

  Naomi nodded, appreciating Miriam’s love of luxury, and her ability to afford it.

  “I hope everything went okay at Becky’s house tonight,” Miriam whispered into Naomi’s ear halfway through dessert.

  Naomi shrugged. She wanted to be optimistic and believe the girl really was just a friend. Unfortunately, Becky’s expression and Naomi’s intuition said otherwise.

  “I’m going to call her after everyone leaves,” Miriam whispered.

  Naomi shook her head. “Don’t--you’ll see her tomorrow.”

  Miriam reluctantly agreed to contain her curiosity until morning.

  The evening ended with hugs and well wishes for a sweet new year. Naomi and
Ezra were the last to leave. Miriam escorted them to the door. Ezra gave his “Aunt Miriam” a big hug before lumbering to the car. Naomi kissed Miriam’s cheek and whispered, “I love you and thank you.”

  The joy of the evening must have overwhelmed Miriam. As Naomi stepped back from the kiss, she glimpsed tears escaping from Miriam’s eyes. Naomi hugged her friend again.

  ***

  The next morning, Naomi woke early, a bit hung over from the wine and massive amount of food. Streams of sunlight, shining through the sliding glass door to her deck, greeted her when she entered the kitchen. The beauty of the day should have made her smile, but instead it emphasized the fact that her windows desperately needed washing. She opened the door and walked onto the deck. The sun’s rays burned hot, like a July afternoon, not a September morning. She sniffed the air. The wind didn’t even hint of fall yet. A perfect morning for walking to the synagogue. She took a few sips of her coffee and watched two rabbits nibble clover in the backyard...

  ***

  Naomi gingerly lifted the omelet from the pan whispering to herself, “Please don’t burn, please don’t burn.” She flipped it and exhaled when it didn’t break. This was a special Shabbat breakfast, not their usual bowl of cereal and coffee.

  She loved Saturday mornings with Jake.

  He stood behind her, nuzzling her neck. “Wow, that looks awesome.”

  She turned and smiled. Then their lips met briefly.

  “What’s the occasion? Omelets don’t usually make the menu.”

  “Do you want coffee?”

  He stepped toward the cabinet. “Of course.”

  Quickly, she reached over and playfully pushed him toward the kitchen table. “Sit. I’ll get it for you.”

  Jake followed her instructions and sat down, smiling. She opened the cabinet, pulled out a mug that read World’s Greatest Dad and set it in front of him. She waited--no reaction from Jake. Her pulse quickened as she dumped the omelet from the pan to the plate. “How’s the coffee?”

  “Good. Really hot.”

  Naomi placed the plate in front of him and retrieved a mug from the cabinet for herself.

  He held the mug at eye level. “Hey, where did you get this mug? A garage sale?”

  The look on his face said it all--clueless. Time to be direct.

  “Read the words,” she said, excitement pounding through her.

  They had been trying for a baby for months.

  He woke up. His eyes widened. The smile on his face and in his eyes said everything. He whipped his long, lean form out of the chair and swung her around. “Really?”

  She nodded.

  “Baby Feldman! When?”

  “April.”

  He kissed her hard, picked her up, and headed toward the living room. Two hours later, the omelet ended up in the trash, and the clock said it was too late to go to the synagogue.

  ***

  The two rabbits lost interest in the clover patch and hopped away. She went into the house. The clock above the stove read eight-thirty. Synagogue services began at ten.

  Time to wake Ezra. She climbed the steps, walked a few feet down the hallway, and banged on his bedroom door. “Get up, get up.”

  She kept pounding until her disheveled, lanky, son opened the door.

  “I’m up,” he croaked. “Now, I’m going back to bed.” He turned and closed the door.

  Naomi pushed open the door. “No, you’re not. Get dressed. If we don’t get there early, I’ll lose my spot.”

  He smashed the pillow over his head. “You’ll live.”

  “Fine, I’m walking without you. But don’t complain when you get stuck sitting in a folding chair against the back wall.”

  He tossed the pillow to the ground. “Fine, I’m up.”

  She smiled. Ezra always sat next to Becky’s son Noah. Like her, Ezra hated when someone took his spot.

  The one-mile walk to the synagogue was the best time of the week to talk to him, a distraction-free twenty-minutes--no phone, no computer, or homework. Surprisingly, for a teenager, he still seemed to enjoy talking to her. Today, he babbled excitedly about his senior year in high school and college applications. Then the subject changed. “Do you think Sarah will go to the prom with me?”

  “I don’t know, and you won’t know until you ask her.” She tried to hide her smile. The idea of him taking Laurie’s daughter to the prom sounded like a great idea.

  “What if she says ‘no’?”

  Naomi bumped her shoulder against his. “Ask, that’s all you can do. If she says no, I’m sure it will be the end of life as we all know it.”

  Ezra shook his head. “Fine, I’ll ask, but not until April.”

  They walked across the parking lot, looking at the strange cars belonging to people who attended services twice a year--Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. They entered the vestibule. Naomi stopped, but Ezra continued walking. He opened the heavy glass doors to the sanctuary, stepped inside, and pulled the special Rosh Hashanah Siddur from the bookshelf.

  As Naomi adjusted her cloche black hat, the fingers of a hot flash crept up her neck. “Damn,” she mumbled under her breath. Why did she even bother with the makeup? One hot flash sent it rolling down her cheeks with the sweat. She turned away from the sanctuary and headed to the ladies’ room.

  As she wiped the sweat from her upper lip, sadness washed over her--menopause. Between it and the gray hair, she felt old. Why didn’t that son of a bitch, Jake, walk out when she was thirty-five? Then it might have been possible to find someone else. In a year, Ezra would go to college, leaving her with a dead-end job and an empty house, in a suburb populated by couples. She scrunched the tissue in her fist and slammed it into the flapping lid of the trash can.

  When she finally entered the small sanctuary, her mood lifted a bit when she saw that her seat was still empty. She settled into her chair and shuffled through the pages of the siddur until she located the prayer the rabbi was reading.

  When the door opened, she twisted to see who arrived. Esther, wearing the new hat her mother sent from Israel, kissed the mezuzah attached to the door frame before entering sanctuary. She grabbed a prayer book from the shelf then headed to her regular seat. A few minutes later, the door opened again. This time Naomi looked back, did a slight wave, and pointed Laurie to the seat beside her.

  Laurie slid into the seat and smoothed her plaid jumper. She taught third grade at the local elementary school and occasionally wore her “school clothes” to shul. Naomi leaned over, held out her siddur, and pointed to the page number. Laurie glanced at it and nodded before quickly flipping through the pages of hers. Within seconds, her friend’s clear voice joined in the prayer, chanting along with the rabbi.

  Fifteen minutes later, Miriam waltzed into the room, greeting Naomi and Laurie with air kisses before taking the seat next to Esther.

  Naomi continued glancing back at the door every few seconds.

  A half hour passed--no sign of Becky. Odd. Becky always arrived first during the High Holidays, often beating the rabbi. She staked out their spots and shot vicious looks at anyone who tried to sit in them.

  Naomi elbowed Laurie and gestured with her head toward the double doors at the back of the room. The two women walked out of the sanctuary into the vestibule. Once the glass doors closed behind them, they turned toward each other.

  “Where is she?” Laurie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Naomi replied, shrugging. “Ezra and I went to Miriam’s for the first night. I didn’t call Becky this morning because I just assumed I’d see her here.”

  They began hypothesizing reasons for Becky’s absence. Tired? Sick? Just running late? Naomi looked into the sanctuary and noticed Esther holding her index finger in front of her mouth. Naomi mouth the word “sorry.”

  “Come on.” Naomi pushed open the windowless wooden door of the kitchen and stepped inside, immediately spotting Becky, standing in the back corner, staring out the window, crying.

  Naomi rushed to her side. �
�What’s wrong?”

  Becky fell forward, pressing her head against the plate-glass window, and began sobbing--body-racking sobs.

  “Sh, sh.” Naomi patted Becky’s back the same way she consoled her sons when they were toddlers, but her friend’s tears didn’t stop.

  “He brought her home to meet us because he’s marrying her.” Becky spoke the words, but they were barely audible. “She already has a ring on her finger.”

  Laurie shook her head, staring at the floor. “It can’t be.”

  Naomi didn’t know what to say, so she reached around Becky’s waist and tried to pull her close. Becky pushed her arm away, rushed to the sink, and clenched the rim of the stainless steel bowl. For a moment, she rocked back on her spiked heels. Then, with a shudder, she let go of the sink dashed to the refrigerator and yanked open the double doors. After one loud exhale, she slammed them shut.

  Naomi feared the look of madness glazing her friend’s eyes.

  “Yes, it can be.” Becky moved back to the sink and pounded the stainless steel draining board with her fist. “He’s marrying her.” This time her words came out as a shriek.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Laurie said. But it sounded more like a loud exhale than formed words.

  The door swung open. Miriam glided into the room. Her eyes flitted from face to face. “What’s going on in here? A meeting and I’m not invited?” She continued walking unaffected to the coffee pot.

  Naomi couldn’t move or speak. Laurie stood next to Naomi, shaking her head and biting her bottom lip.

  Miriam, Styrofoam cup in hand, finally turned to face her friends. Her smile faded as she became aware of their stunned expressions.

  “Noah is marrying a shiksa.” Tears rolled down Becky’s cheeks as she spoke the words.