by Laura Brown
Isabel nodded and didn’t miss a beat with her next question. “P-H-A-R-A-O-H?”
“P-H-A-R-A-O-H.” He finger-spelled back. “Or king, but P-H-A-R-A-O-H is more specific.” He knew she wouldn’t understand everything he signed, but he always made it a point to sign naturally when he could to his students, giving them the ability to pick up more language and grammar.
Isabel’s hands moved again, but she paused and looked at her mother before putting her hands down. She spoke with her mother, arguing over something, then slouched her shoulders more like a teenager than a college student and collected the paper towel in the center of the table, the one covering three matzahs. She removed the center cracker, which was already broken in half, and wrapped the smaller piece in the towel before getting up. As she rounded the table, she leaned into Gaby, the two having a brief conversation before she continued on her way down the stairs.
The afikomen. Tradition had this piece of matzah hidden. Seemed Isabel was hiding it for the children, who all watched her descend the stairs with eager eyes. In his family, the children hid the afikomen for the adults to find, often using the excuse to miss a good portion of the Seder.
Beside him, Gaby’s back was stiff as a board, and his entire body went on alert. What had Izzy said to her? He reached over, placing a hand by her knee, hoping to relax her. She shook her head, closed her prayer book, and slipped away from the table.
He swore under the table. This wasn’t good, not good at all. Izzy must have mentioned Monica. How could he prove he wasn’t engaged anymore? Not technically, at least.
Crap. Where did the technicality fall?
He caught Anne’s eyes, and she gave him a nod before returning her attention to the table. He tossed his own book on his plate, on top of the dilapidated folded napkin, and took off after Gaby. He caught up with her in the hall and pulled her into the first room he came across, realizing too late that it was the bathroom.
Yep. This day had definitely gotten more messed up.
…
“There’s a Deaf Seder happening in Boston. How did you get him here instead?”
Izzy’s words ran in a loop in Gaby’s head, the implications settling under her skin. There was only one reason someone would be known for going to a Seder—if they were Jewish. Which meant he lied to her. Here she did her best to explain Passover, and he hadn’t once revealed his own Jewishness. If he lied to her about this, what else had he lied about?
She sucked in a breath. Tom had lied to her. He’d pretended to be someone he wasn’t, wanted her to be someone she wasn’t—a perfect recipe for a bad situation. Her wayward feelings had her thinking Levi was different. Hoping, even. But one lie meant others would follow, and she’d finished playing that game.
But then again, what did it matter if he had lied? He was here to be her fake date. Who cared if that kiss was hotter than the turkey roasting in the oven and that she actually liked having him around?
Her stomach rumbled, not convinced by her thoughts. Because the game had changed, and even if it didn’t matter, not in the long run, it became one more unexpected change while visiting her family, one more rug pulled out from under her, and Gaby was fresh out of the ability to roll with it. Instead of a ball, she was a damn square.
This had been a horrible idea. A fake date for Passover—what could go wrong? Apparently, everything. Like her ancestors fleeing Egypt thousands of years ago, she had to leave the table, get away from her family and Levi and figure out how to handle herself.
Before she could reach her room, a hand closed on her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom. No lights were switched on, the setting sun creating dim mood lighting. She stood in the small opening with Levi, who cupped her cheek, eyes trying to figure out all her secrets.
How about you share some of yours, she wanted to ask, but not even her vocal cords would work. Her traitorous body wanted to melt into his, but she needed answers, and she needed them now. She pulled her phone from her dress pocket.
Gaby: Why didn’t you tell me you were Jewish?
Levi read, his face scrunching up. Yet relief seemed to shine in his eyes. Why?
Levi: I did tell you I was Jewish.
Gaby scowled, her anger taking over her hurt. She’d found a scapegoat for all her mumbled and jumbled thoughts. Levi.
Gaby: No, you didn’t.
Only he was busy scrolling, and she was stuck there stewing like the soup on the stove until he turned his phone around, a portion of their previous texts on display.
Gaby: Nice. My ex was into healthy, organic, low fat, low sugar, low taste. I like healthy, but I agree with moderation. Cake and cookies have rights, too.
Levi: Even cakes suffer from the wrath of Passover, though my sister did find something one year that tasted damn good, to this day I’m convinced it had real yeast in it.
She shook her head, remembering typing her words, but not remembering his. He held up a finger, scrolling again on his phone, and she crossed her arms, waiting for him to turn it around again.
Gaby: The food is a bit different. Passover involves not using yeast, so the food can be heavy. There is some regular bread left in the kitchen if it becomes too much.
Levi: I’m well versed with Passover food, if you haven’t realized it by now. Matzah will be fine, I may be lax, but I tend to keep for at least half a week.
Maybe he was lax enough that he wouldn’t mention this at all. She collected her phone.
Gaby: You sure you sent these?
Levi: No, I photo-shopped them together while you stood there waiting.
Gaby glared at him, even though she knew he had a point, but something still nagged at her over his omission.
Gaby: You still could have made it clear that you’re Jewish! I looked like an idiot explaining Passover to someone who could have explained it right back to me!
Levi: You see, many many centuries ago, our ancestors wandered the desert for forty years after Moses got the evil Pharaoh to agree to set us free. There were plagues. Ten of them. It wasn’t pretty. Children died. We eat matzah now. The end.
Against her wish to stay mad, his words made her laugh. She tried to keep it off her face, but his fingers brushed her cheeks, catching the slight tilt.
Gaby: Fine, you’re Jewish.
Levi: With my name, I think you’re the first person not to guess my religion.
She snorted, but she had one more question before she got lulled into the sincerity shining in those tempting blue eyes.
Gaby: So you’re not lying to me?
His jaw clenched while he typed.
Levi: What would I have to lie to you about?
She studied his face before responding. He had to know she was onto him.
Gaby: But you don’t talk about your family.
He stiffened, then, none of that sexy jaw clenching, and she knew she’d hit pay dirt. He scratched his head, clearly trying to figure out the best way to come clean. She crossed her arms, waiting.
Levi: Because it’s complicated, and I’m here to help you. You don’t need my drama.
What did it say that she wanted to know his drama, wanted to know how to help him as he helped her?
Suddenly she didn’t want it to be fake. Not anymore. Levi might be keeping something from her, but he shared easily and willingly, and that had to count for something. Levi stood so near her, thumb rubbing her cheek, body nearly brushing hers from closeness.
She inched forward, closing the gap, body damn near humming at his proximity. His head shifted toward hers, and that was all she needed before lifting onto her toes and meshing her lips with his.
He returned her kiss, pressing her against the wall as she flung her arms around him, holding him close. No one could see them, so this wasn’t some chaste-yet-explosive kiss in the middle of the living room. This wasn’t even a show for her family, t
hough the fact they were in the bathroom together wouldn’t be lost on anyone. Gaby didn’t care, not with his hands sprawled on her back, pressing her closer to his hard chest, making her want to lick him—and not like Bengi would.
She shifted even closer, every hard inch of him against her curves, and she plum forgot to breathe. Not with this man against her, his tongue in her mouth, and those hands sliding up the sides of her torso. Just a little higher, and around to the front, and her desperate nipples would be very happy.
Noise came from the hall, and Gaby stilled. “Where’d you hide it, Izzy?” said one of her little cousins. “Yeah, tell us!” said another, and the softer voices followed, perhaps telling the kids to stop interrupting the Seder.
The same Seder that Gaby and Levi were missing by being lip-locked in the bathroom.
She pulled back, and Levi’s eyes opened, heavy-lidded with lust, and she had to fight not to wrap herself around him again like a pretzel.
“Sorry,” she started to sign.
He wrapped his hand around hers to stop the motion, yet now his hand was even closer to her breasts, wedged between them, in fact, skin against skin in the V of her dress. Her self-control threatened to break free of her weakening grip, and she knew she had to pull herself together. She let go of his hand and pulled out her phone.
Gaby: So you know Izzy?
The light of the cell phone illuminated Levi’s face as he read and typed his response.
Levi: She’s in my ASL II class. You didn’t know?
Gaby shook her head.
Gaby: Izzy has a bit of wanderlust in her heart. I’m not even sure what her major is anymore.
Gaby had thought she had taken a big risk switching majors after her father died, and she had to take on extra courses to still graduate on time. She had no clue how Izzy managed to keep changing hers or when to expect her to finish.
Levi: Are you worried about her?
Gaby: I’m her big sister—of course I am. But that’s not what you mean. I wasn’t expecting anyone here to know ASL. Though I’m happy for you, my own lack of signing is going to be obvious.
Levi shrugged as he typed.
Levi: She’s only in her second class. You’ve picked up a lot in the last few days; it took her several weeks to get to your level.
Warmth spread in Gaby’s chest, and she nearly kissed him again.
Gaby: Seriously?
Levi: Yes. But you know her best. If we need a different game plan, let me know.
Considering they had been in the bathroom together for a while, she was pretty sure even if no one saw the kiss, everyone assumed it happened. As long as Izzy wasn’t crushing on her teacher, things could be salvaged.
Gaby: Same game plan, if for no other reason than fewer places for us to mess up. Just don’t forget who you are here for.
Levi put his phone into his back pocket and tipped her chin upward, his eyes swallowing her, making her feel like the only person in the world. Then he brushed his lips against hers, all her good parts tingling at the contact, before reaching for the door.
Right. Gaby’s family. The reason they were here. The reason they even kissed in the first place. Hell of a time to remember she’d been kissing her fake date in the bathroom. She needed a matzah ball in her soup, stat.
…
They returned in time for the second cup of wine, so the universe wasn’t as out to get Levi as he feared. He wanted to suck it down and ask for another, but he knew better than that. He needed to find another way to ease the guilt clawing at him. A text to Monica could work if she gave him the green light to share the truth. Gaby would be just one person, someone unconnected to their families. What harm would it do? Then he’d be able to explain anything Izzy might say.
He pulled out his phone, appropriateness for the Seder be damned, and sent Monica a text.
Levi: You spill the beans yet?
He shoved it back into his pocket, where it burned, mocking him. Things were moving too far with Gaby. That explosive bathroom kiss still lingered on his tongue—not an act, not even close. She’d already asked him about lying, so the rest would not go down smoothly. He had to give her the truth soon, or he’d lose any chance of being something real with her.
He waited for Gaby to open her Haggadah so he could follow, but hers remained closed. He glanced around at multiple open mouths and wondered if some sort of interactive break into discussion had occurred. Isabel caught his eye. “Music.”
He nodded and checked for instruments, but they had none. His uncle played guitar, and Levi always went over to feel the vibrations as a kid, enjoying the beat. Here he couldn’t find one, or even know if it was the Dayenu or another song.
Gaby’s mouth remained closed, and he pulled out his phone.
Levi: You don’t sing?
He nudged her side, and she glanced down at his phone before reaching for her own.
Gaby: Not the best singing voice.
Levi: Won’t bother me.
She looked up after she read, and a bit of her earlier stress faded away. A shame that didn’t ease any of his guilt.
Gaby: Consider yourself lucky. I’m told earplugs were handed out at my Bat Mitzvah.
Levi: I had interpreters at mine. I don’t think anything was sung.
Gaby: It’s all about the beat, you can talk in rhyme and make a song work.
As he read, her hand reached out and began to tap on his leg, a lively beat that he didn’t think was the Dayenu, but certainly explained the light mood around the table. More than the beat, he relished her touch, the light contact of her fingers, when moments earlier those hands had been on his back and in his hair. Not her intention, but he had a sinking suspicion his body would react to almost any interaction from her.
Levi: Thank you. I like the musical beats, just need very loud music to accomplish that.
Gaby: Good thing I like loud music. I’ll have to share my favorite with you some time.
Her hand hadn’t returned, and he shot a glance her way, finding her head in her Haggadah, her cheeks red. Yeah, he hadn’t missed that mention of them being more than just this weekend.
Levi: I’d like that.
A whole can of worms had to be opened and spilled before more could happen, but that didn’t diminish the want building inside. He picked up his Haggadah and found the current page. His phone vibrated, and he reached for it, thinking it was Gaby, but her lips moved while she read a section.
Monica: No, I haven’t spilled the beans. And you really should be here, or you’ll be stuck with me for a long, long time.
He forced his back molars to stop fusing into one.
Levi: I’m done with this game. The reason I’m not there is because of this farce. You’re the one who wants something out of this engagement that isn’t me. Get that. You’ve got this weekend, and then I’m spilling.
Monica: You wouldn’t dare.
Levi: Wouldn’t I? Try me.
He wasn’t up to these games, not at the expense of being rude, so he put his phone away as Gaby turned the page, and that helped get him on track. It was only a matter of time before Monica texted again, or Isabel asked another question, so he focused on the Hebrew and English words, working through the foggy cobwebs on a language he hadn’t used much since Hebrew School.
By the time the soup arrived, Levi was ready for the evening to move forward. Gaby finished helping hand out the first course and settled into the chair next to him. She pointed at the soup and raised a thumb, her eyebrows dipped in worry.
He raised his thumb right back at her, taking another sip and collecting a piece of matzah ball. Passover food got heavy, but since it was only eaten once a year, the start was always a treat.
Gaby shook her head, a slight curve to her lips.
“What?” he signed, then felt the drop of soup sliding toward his chin
.
Gaby picked up her napkin and wiped the side of his mouth. It should have made him feel like a child, but it didn’t. It felt intimate, like their few stolen minutes in the bathroom. A good show to the crowd around them, though he didn’t care about them at this moment, not with Gaby looking deep into his eyes.
She pulled away, turning to someone and talking, breaking from their trance. Across the way, Isabel caught his eyes.
“You like my sister.” As if the last two minutes were anything different than him being here as her boyfriend.
“Yes. Problem?” He was an idiot for getting into this here, but the kiss and then closeness of Gaby had short-circuited his brain waves.
Isabel’s gaze traveled to Gaby. Her hands moved, but no signs formed, a frown marring her features. Whatever she wanted to say, she didn’t know the right sign for it, and he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. She blanked her expression when Gaby faced them, the sisters breaking into a conversation. Levi studied their facial expressions to no avail; both of them had on masks. The words would clue him in on whatever emotions they poked at deep inside, but he had nothing to try and guess from.
He was used to being left out and lost, but at that moment, he wanted in on what happened, so he’d know whether anything related to Monica had been mentioned.
His phone vibrated again, as though his thoughts conjured that particular thorn in his side. Only the text wasn’t from her.
Meyer: How’s Passover with the hearing chick’s family?
Levi: Quiet.
Meyer: Ha ha, you know what I mean.
Levi tapped his phone, watching Gaby out of his peripheral, the way her cheeks rose higher than normal when her expression was fake.
Levi: I like her.
Meyer: Well, good thing to like the person you’re fake dating.
He studied the dwindling soup in his bowl.