The Kiddush Ladies

by Susan Sofayov

  Becky looked at the young woman. “Really, was it her mother’s mother or her father’s mother?”

  She looked at Becky. “That’s an odd question.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Becky reached for the bag containing her new treasure. “It’s not my business.”

  “Her mother’s mother,” the young woman said. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this stuff.”

  Becky smiled and shrugged. “I’m glad you did. I’ll think of your story when I look at my cup.”

  The silver sleigh bells hanging over the door tinkled when Becky walked out. It only took four generations for that family to totally lose its Judaism. Her mind switched to Maria and what Naomi told her. But studying to convert didn’t guarantee anything.

  Becky continued meandering up the street until there were no more store windows to peep into. She headed back to her car, climbed inside, and looked at her phone. One missed call. She didn’t have to look. Her friends didn’t even carry purses into the shul, let alone cell phones.

  David must have borrowed a phone from Maria’s father and snuck out between the end of the service and the beginning of kiddush to call her.

  Before pulling out of the parking spot, she checked the time, two o’clock.

  Who would believe that she bought a hand-forged kiddush cup in a town that probably never had a synagogue? Tears washed over eyes, clouding her vision. But who would believe her mother cheated on her father, and her only child was marrying a non-Jew? She swiped at her left eye and then the right. And who would believe that dingbat of an ex-best friend had the guile to deceive her for over thirty years?

  Chapter 19

  Naomi

  Naomi’s stress level increased with each second Becky’s chair, in the third to the last row, remained empty. The rabbi was only minutes away from beginning the silent Amidah. Earlier, David walked in alone. She assumed Becky went straight to the kitchen to talk with the waitress. But giving instructions to the waitress shouldn’t take long.

  Naomi slid from her chair and walked to the kitchen. Inside, Margie bustled around the steel table, putting the finishing garnishes on bowls of tuna salad, egg salad, and plates of lox.“Have you seen Becky?” Naomi asked.

  Margie moved to a bowl of Asian noodles and strategically inserted a few sprigs of parsley. “No. And I have a bunch of questions to ask her.”

  “I’m going out for the Amidah. If she doesn’t come by the Torah reading, I’ll do my best to answer them.”

  Naomi sensed the questioning gazes of her friends as she returned to her seat. She glanced at each of their faces, shaking her head. As the rabbi began the silent Amidah, she grabbed her siddur, took three steps back and three steps forward. Then she willed herself to forget Becky and focus on the words of the prayer.

  When the repetition began, Esther tapped her on the shoulder. “Do you think she’s upstairs hiding or crying?”

  Naomi shook her head. “I don’t know, but I sure hope she’s somewhere in this building.”

  When Rabbi Morty stepped to the lectern to begin the sermon, Naomi glanced back at the still empty seat. Her heart went thud against her chest. Before she could turn forward, Maria caught her eye and gave her a long, pained look. All Naomi could do was shrug.

  The rabbi continued to speak, but not a word of it registered in her brain. Where in the hell was Becky? When the sermon ended, she crept to the men’s side of the mechitza and signaled to David.

  “I don’t know where she is. When I woke up, she was gone,” he said, color draining from his face.

  Naomi controlled her urge to hug him. The pain in his eyes defied description. “She’ll be here. It’s just like the shower. She’ll come to her senses.”

  Naomi, along with Laurie, Esther, and Miriam entered the kitchen. Once inside, Naomi fielded Margie’s questions, and the rest of the women began loading food onto the carts, even red-eyed Miriam.

  Naomi exhaled through her nose--a long, sad release of the air choking her lungs. The next inhale filled them with oxygen that felt heavier than rocks. She placed her arm over Miriam’s shoulder. “Stop, you look like a mourner at a funeral.”

  Miriam didn’t respond.

  Naomi couldn’t find words of condolence for a dying friendship. Instead, she walked to the coffee urn and filled two Styrofoam cups and added the non-dairy creamer. She motioned with her head to Miriam. Miriam followed her into the Rabbi’s office. Naomi closed the door. Before any words were said, Naomi wrapped her arms around Miriam and let her cry.

  “She’s not here because she knew I’d be here.”

  “No.” Naomi shook her head. “That’s not true. Stop crying.”

  “I can’t. I’ve been crying since I read her letter. Do you believe she’d walk out of the wedding if I’m there?”

  “No, I don’t believe it. She isn’t that crazy. She would never do that to Noah.” Naomi shook her head, astounded that she would even need to answer such an absurd question.

  “She’s nuts. You know that.” Miriam’s hands trembled as she spoke. “Where is she? I don’t recognize this person, living in her body. Do you? Our Becky would be here, doing what she does best--being a bossy control freak. This is just insanity.” Naomi met Miriam’s eyes in silent agreement. “I think about this situation twenty-four hours a day,” Miriam continued. “There’s no logic in being mad at me. How could she hold me accountable for something my dad and her mother did all those years ago?” Naomi shrugged. “If something I did really caused this fiasco, I would apologize.” Miriam pulled her shoulders back and Naomi watched something in her eyes change. “I’m not going to the wedding.”

  Naomi’s head shot up. “Noah will be devastated. Don’t let her bully you.”

  “Noah needs his mother to be there more than he needs me. He knows how much I love him. My other son--but I just can’t take the chance of her really walking out.”

  Naomi clasped her friend’s hand. “That’s a very noble decision, but my heart isn’t agreeing with you. Maybe the excitement around the wedding will make her come to her senses.”

  “No, Naomi.” Miriam dropped her friend’s hand. “You’ll take pictures and video the ceremony. I’ll watch it on Friday morning.”

  An overwhelming feeling of love engulfed Naomi as she hugged Miriam. “You don’t deserve this treatment.”

  ***

  Naomi slipped out of the synagogue while David continued doing shots of l’chaim with the rabbi, Noah, and a few others. She walked straight to Becky’s house and pounded on the front door--no answer. At the back door, she beat her fist against the wood until her hand ached. Becky wasn’t inside. The noise would have annoyed her enough to open the door. But if she wasn’t home, where in the hell was she?

  Naomi walked home, stunned that Becky abandoned her family on such an important day. Poor David, he didn’t bother lying when people bombarded him with, “Where’s Becky?”

  He just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Naomi’s heart ached for him.

  For the rest of the afternoon she tried calling Becky’s cell. It went straight to voicemail. In the early evening, she called David.

  “She’s home,” he said. “But before I could say a word to her, she locked herself inside the office. I yell through the door, but she ignores me.”

  There was nothing for Naomi to say and, by Sunday morning, she lost all hope of talking to Becky.

  She switched her attention to completing her own to-do-list. By six o’clock that evening she felt physically and mentally exhausted from worrying about her friend. She plopped down onto the sofa and booted up her laptop. Over the last few months, she’d acquired the habit of reading the New York Times society news.

  Not that she found it interesting, but Aaron did publicity appearances for his book and pictures of him often showed up on the website. Her finger tapped on the downward scrolling arrow--reports on charity fundraising events and pictures of wealthy people smiling. No Aaron, she hit the d
own arrow one more time. At the very bottom of the page, tucked into the lowest part of the right-hand corner, Aaron and his ex-wife. His arm slung casually over her shoulders and both smiling widely. Naomi clicked on the photo to enlarge it. Author, Aaron Brenner and ex-wife, super-model-turned-entrepreneur, Alisha Brenner, appeared arm-in-arm at the annual fundraising event for The Arts and Letters Academy.

  Naomi’s heart pounded against her chest as she reread the text below their beautiful smiling faces. I’m such a jackass. She exed out of the site. That’s why he’s running to New York all the time. She closed the laptop and stared out the window.

  Ezra ambled into the room. “I’m bored.”

  “And that’s my problem?” she shot back.

  He plopped down onto the loveseat and swung his legs into a reclining position.

  “Get your dirty shoes off the loveseat.”

  Ezra’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong with you? My feet are hanging over the end. They’re not even touching anything.”

  “Get them off, because I said to get them off.” Naomi rose from the chair and left the room.

  “I’m assuming this means you don’t want to go to the movies with me,” he yelled.

  “No, I’m not going anywhere.” She walked into the guest bedroom/office and booted up the dusty desktop computer. Once the fancy opening sequence for Windows finished, she clicked on the icon for Microsoft Word. She didn’t stare at the blank document, nor did she think about the keyboard. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

  Three hours later she wrote the words “The End.” After running spell check, she saved the file, and then logged onto her email. She typed in Aaron’s email address and wrote the words First assignment.

  Dear Professor Brenner,

  Attached is my assignment. It’s long overdue. ~ Naomi.

  She attached the file and immediately hit send. As she read the words, “message sent,” she swiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  Chapter 20

  Becky

  The morning sun shone through the lace curtains. Becky stared at the ceiling above her side of the bed, smelling the coffee David brewed in the kitchen. She rolled over and pulled the blanket over her head. No one was going to force her out of the bed.

  “Becky,” he shouted. “It’s time to get up.”

  She heard his footsteps and, judging by the fading of the sound, he walked back into the kitchen. Good. At least he was leaving her alone. Her head hurt.

  Her phone, lying on the night stand, began to vibrate. Her arm shot out from under the blanket that still engulfed her head. She looked at the screen. A text message from David that read, Stop ignoring me. Get up or I will come upstairs and pull you out of bed.

  She exhaled deeply and put down the phone. The bed felt warm and safe. If she stayed in it, the whole wedding could be avoided. Less than eight hours ago, she and David hosted the rehearsal dinner, which insulted every cell in her body. Toasting with those goyim--ugh. Thank goodness for Naomi and Laurie. They filled her wine glass all night and graciously entertained Maria’s family. Early in the evening, Becky tried to escape into the kitchen for a good cry, but the knife-wielding caterer didn’t appreciate her presence and shooed her out the door. This didn’t seem fair because they tolerated Esther, who spent most of the evening playing the role of mashgiach--keeping the kitchen kosher while supervising the professionals.

  The steps were getting closer and they didn’t sound happy. David clomped into the bedroom and grabbed the blanket. “Your son is getting married today. Get up.”

  “No.”

  He shook his head, sat down on the bed, and reached for her hand. “I know I’m not the most romantic of husbands. And I know I don’t say ‘I love you’ very often.”

  Becky squeezed his hand.

  “I’m saying it to you today, I love you and nothing could have stopped me from marrying you.”

  Becky reached for the tissue box on the night stand.

  “But,” David said, “if my mother acted like you on our wedding day, I would have told her to get the hell out and cut our ties forever.”

  Becky felt her eyes widen.

  “Honey, that’s how Noah feels about Maria. We raised a mensch. He’s tolerating your behavior, but you have to stop pushing him.”

  Before Becky could respond, the doorbell rang. He dropped her hand. He knew she wasn’t getting out of bed to answer the door.

  “This conversation isn’t over,” David said, as he walked across the room.

  Becky stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine never seeing Noah again. A wrench twisted her heart. She rolled out of bed.

  She turned on the faucet and ran water over her tooth brush. The toothpaste was in the medicine cabinet. When she reached to open it, her stomach lurched. She didn’t like the face staring back. The eyes reflected hardness. The hair sprouted gray roots and looked unkempt--witchy.

  As she brushed her teeth, Becky couldn’t shift her gaze away from her face. The rough image belonged to a bitter old woman. Her throat constricted.

  When she left the bathroom, David stood in the middle of the bedroom, waiting for her. “You have a visitor.”

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Is it Naomi?”

  He shook his head. “Put on your robe, you don’t need to dress.” He left the room before she could ask any questions.

  Other than Naomi, who would have the nerve to show up at her house at eight o’clock in the morning without an invitation? She cinched the belt of her robe tighter around her waist and followed him.

  Becky saw the back of her head before her face. Maria sat on one of the tall stools, surrounding the island in the middle of the kitchen. Becky walked to the coffee pot, avoiding the young woman’s gaze. “Where’s Noah?”

  “He’s not here, Mrs. Rosen. I came alone--to talk to you. It’s important and I need to say it before the wedding.”

  Becky sat on the stool across from her. No one could argue that Maria was a beautiful girl. Her light brown eyes reminded Becky of a character straight out of a Jane Austen novel. Maria’s eyes radiated warmth, but Becky wouldn’t fall prey to it.

  “Mrs. Rosen, as you probably heard by now, I’ve been studying Judaism with the rabbi in Squirrel Hill for over a year now.” Becky nodded and noticed the young woman’s hands quivering. Maria lifted the mug to her lips and sipped. “Organized religion never attracted me. I stopped going to church when I was fifteen.”

  Becky watched her, wondering where the girl was going with this conversation.

  “The first thing anyone who meets Noah realizes is Judaism and Jewish culture are a major part of his identity. Noah and I were just friends for over a year because he couldn’t bring himself to date a non-Jew. During that year, I saw the joy he got from Shabbat and going to services.”

  “Must not be that important.” Even as the words slipped out of her mouth, Becky regretted them.

  Anger flared in Maria’s eyes. “Mrs. Rosen, I’m trying to be respectful of you.”

  Becky stared into the half empty coffee mug. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

  “When we finally started dating, I felt it was important that I learn something about Judaism, so I enrolled in a Hebrew class. When the class finished, I began studying with the rabbi.”

  Maria stopped talking, obviously hoping Becky would react. She didn’t. Maria sighed. “One of the things I admire most about him is his unwavering belief. The other is his connection to Jewish history.”

  Becky let out a little snort. “Well, at least he got that part right. It is his heritage.” She leaned into the high back of the stool and closed her eyes. I will not cry in front of this girl. I will not cry in front of this girl.

  “But I didn’t want to insult him or the religion by agreeing to convert if I truly didn’t believe it in my heart.”

  Becky sipped her coffee. Under normal circumstances, she would admire this girl’s attitude, but in this situation, couldn’t she just suck it up and convert?
The silence grew uncomfortable.

  “Mrs. Rosen, Noah and I both believe that an orthodox conversion is a true conversion.”

  Maria waited for some type of reaction. But Becky couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Mrs. Rosen, I’ve made my decision.”

  Becky’s eyes widened and her heart pounded against her ribcage.

  Maria bit her lower lip, and Becky’s stomach dropped. She could see the answer in Maria’s eyes. It wasn’t going to be the decision she wanted to hear. Maria was going to stay Catholic. Becky dropped her chin to her chest to hide the tears forming in her eyes.

  “I’m going to move forward in the conversion process. I’m going to become a Jew.”

  For a few heartbeats, Becky sat, unable to look up, questioning her ears. When the news sank in, she looked up, but instead of seeing joy in Maria’s eyes, she saw agony. She didn’t understand why and didn’t really care. Maria had spoken the words Becky dreamed of hearing.

  “It’s a miracle.” Becky felt the muscles in her face pull into a smile. She sprang from her seat and walk toward Maria. “Nes gadol--it’s a big miracle!”

  “Wait.” Maria motioned with her arms for Becky to sit down. “I have more to say.”

  Becky returned to her seat and started twisting the belt of her robe between her fingers. All the while, yelling Hurry up inside her head.

  “I want you to know that I’m not converting to make you happy and not for Noah either. Throughout history being Jewish has proven to be dangerous. As much as you want our children to be Jewish, this was a huge decision for me. What happens if another madman rises? Maybe, it won’t affect me or my children, but what about my grandchildren or great grandchildren. I didn’t make a decision for just my soul, but for theirs too.”

  Becky nodded and continued twisting the belt. “That I do understand very well.”