by Eileen Palma
A bell ringing at the counter interrupted them.
“Saved by the bell. I’ll be right back.” Kate walked to the bar and grabbed the food. She tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the aluminum mussel bucket to make sure her hair hadn’t gotten too frizzy from the sea air. She vowed on the walk back to the table not to say anything else that could possibly insult the first date she had been on since she became too famous for eHarmony.
“I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything too important tonight.” Kate plopped the food tray on the table and doled out the paper plates heavy with ears of corn slathered in melted butter and liberally sprinkled with salt and pepper.
“Nah. I had four hours to kill anyway. Might as well be here eating with you.”
“Four hours?” Kate grabbed a handful of mussels from the bucket and put them in a neat pile on her plate next to the corn. She didn’t know what had possessed her to order the messiest food on the menu.
“Lauren’s on the gymnastics team at Chelsea Piers. She practices twenty hours a week. I’m on pick up duty tonight.”
“Hope your sister realizes how good she has it.”
“Harper and I made it through some awful shit together growing up. Our dad left us, and then our mom died. If that doesn’t make two people stick together I don’t know what would.” Jack shrugged his shoulders and loaded up his plate with a stack of steaming mussels.
“Wow. How old were you guys when all that happened?”
“I was ten and Harper was a toddler when my dad left. How do you think Pam made a living before she was the Lower West Side’s most popular dog walker?”
“Pam was your babysitter?”
“Yeah, which Harper doesn’t like to brag about. I mean, how does it look to have your former babysitter go from changing your diapers to walking around with a Pooper Scooper?” Jack popped open a mussel and sucked out the meat with a quiet slurping sound.
“I could see her point. Are you still in touch with your dad?”
“Nah. But he tried to track me down on Facebook last year. Can you believe that?”
“Did he send a message with his friend request?”
“Yeah. Something like—sorry I abandoned you and your sister in your formative years. Let’s be online friends and write comments on each other’s wall like nothing happened.” Jack pulled his mouth into a wry smile. His top row of teeth was perfectly even and straight like an ad from the orthodontist’s brochure. But two of his bottom teeth overlapped just enough to give Jack more of a bad boy smile.
“You didn’t accept his request, did you?”
“Hell no. And I have to admit it felt pretty good to click the ignore button.” Jack wrapped his lips around the tip of the salty mussel shell and sucked the juice back before pulling back the fleshy meat with his tongue.
“So you didn’t want to get bogged down with Farmville and Bubble Safari game requests from the man who left your family?” Kate crossed and uncrossed her legs and forced herself to pull her eyes back down to her own food. “Go figure. Sometimes I wish my dad hadn’t stuck around.”
“Why?” Jack put down his bottle of beer. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“He’s a compulsive gambler.” Kate didn’t usually talk about her father, but something about the way Jack opened up to her made her feel like she could tell him anything.
“Holy shit.” Jack kept his eyes on Kate’s, not looking away like most guys did when she got serious.
“You know those baskets the church puts together at Christmas for needy families?”
“The ones filled with non-perishable food that could withstand a nuclear attack?”
“We got one. Every year of my life till I moved out.” Kate picked up a mussel, but put it back down when she remembered that talking about her childhood always made her lose her appetite.
“So I guess you’re not a fan of meat that comes out of a tin.”
Kate laughed. “I ate my last Pineapple SPAM loaf the year I turned eighteen.”
“Do you still see your dad?”
“Yeah. Every time he needs me to pay off some bookie.”
“Shit. Maybe I was better off having my dad leave.” Jack opened a foil butter packet and put the yellow square on his already dripping corn.
“How old were you when your mom died?”
“Freshman year of college and Harper was in middle school. Some crazy judge actually granted my petition for custody of her. I was the only guy at NYU reading Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.”
“No wonder you two are so close.”
“Yeah, it’s a regular Lifetime movie.”
“I just realized I’ve been asking you one depressing question after the next. Having dinner with me is like a bad Barbara Walters interview. Next thing you know I’ll be passing the tissue box.”
“I’m the one bringing up my dead mother on our first date. Clearly, I haven’t been told that sob stories should be saved for at least the third date.”
“That’s okay. I can come up with another sad tale, besides the whole gambling dad thing, of course.” Kate took a long sip of her beer.
“Oh really? Well you better lay it on me, so I don’t walk out of dinner feeling like some douchebag on a therapist’s couch.”
“Dining on a Dime,” Kate answered without hesitation.
“You mean that show on Food Network with the guy who’s covered in tattoos?” Jack picked up a slick ear of corn and broke through the niblets with his front teeth. A spray of corn juice landed on Kate’s cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.
“Tyler, the host, also happens to be my ex-boyfriend who stole my show idea. Dining on a budget isn’t the most revolutionary concept ever, but I wanted to have a show where two people competed every episode to come up with the best recipes for a four-course dinner on a shoestring budget. The winner gets their kitchen remodeled. Tyler pitched the idea to the Food Network right after the stock market crashed and they thought it was the perfect show to air during a recession. He neglected to tell the producers the idea was mine.” Kate took a sip of beer to wash away the biting acid of anger in her mouth.
“Did you take him to court?”
“I tried. I met with a copyright lawyer and tried to pull a case together. But I didn’t have enough proof the idea was actually mine.”
“It must kill you to see him on TV doing your show.”
“It used to. I spent so much time and energy fighting with him that I reached a point where I wasn’t going anywhere. But eventually I got my shit together and landed KidFit.”
“You’re the one with the show on ABC, so I guess you ended up getting the last laugh.” Jack took a long sip of beer. When he pulled the bottle away, there was a thin layer of foam on his upper lip. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked it off.
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it. All I know is between Tyler and my father, I’ve learned not trust the wrong people anymore.”
“I try to avoid awkwardness at all costs, which could explain why I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.”
Jack Moskowitz, The Chelsea Chronicle
Chapter Five
Jack went to the bar to get more beer and when he came back, he found Kate on the phone. Jack noticed she had done something to her hair while he was at the bar so her beachcomber waves hung over her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face. Kate had also applied a peachy shade of lip gloss that made her lips look even softer and fuller than before.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you wait?” Kate’s brow was furrowed.
Jack sat at the table and pushed the beer towards her. If he had known he was going to get the blow off, he wouldn’t have sprung for the extra beers.
“My old roommate isn’t feeling well and needs me to walk her dog.” Kate took the beer. “Thanks.”
“Now that’s one I haven’t heard before.”
“I usually sen
d Dana a 911 text from under the table if things are going bad. Then she calls me with a quote-unquote work emergency. But look at my call history—it’s clean.” Kate held her phone out to Jack.
“Don’t worry; I won’t call your bluff.” Jack left the phone in her hand and took a swig of beer. Kate was actually a pretty cool chick when she wasn’t talking about strollers. There was just the little issue that Jack was about fifty pounds and two super-sized stroller lines out of her league.
“You should come with me. Diesel probably knows her dog Morty because he’s part of Pam’s dog-walking crew. He’s the cutest miniature black Schnauzer.” As soon as Kate said Morty, Sarah Jessica Barker and Diesel picked their heads up. “See, I told you. Morty is buddies with these guys.”
“Diesel has a friend that sounds like a Lower East Side delicatessen owner and a girlfriend named after a movie star. I’m learning an awful lot about my dog today.”
“You guys want to go hang out with Morty?” asked Kate, in the tone usually reserved for babies and companion animals. Sarah Jessica Barker, followed by Diesel, abandoned their cozy spots under the table and started tugging on their leashes. Diesel let out a sharp bark, while his female counterpart let loose more of a high-pitched wail.
“That answers your question. Where does this old roommate of yours live?”
“A few blocks from here on 23rd.” Kate took one last sip of beer while Jack tilted back the rest of his bottle.
As she walked close to him down the boat ramp, Kate brought with her a smell of crisp apples mixed with vanilla. They walked east on 23rd past the row of gated brownstones with the interlocking wisteria and lilacs looping up the walls. The quieter residential section took up only four blocks. As soon as they neared Eighth Avenue, franchises like The Gap, Citibank, and Dunkin’ Donuts took over with their stark signs, fluorescent lighting and pristine store windows.
Jack and Kate crossed over Eighth Avenue to that Indian eyebrow threading salon that always had someone handing out coupons on the corner. Jack had no idea what eyebrow threading was, but it sounded pretty gruesome to him. He was surprised to see Kate leading Sarah Jessica Barker towards the salon entrance. She couldn’t possibly be dragging them all with her to get her eyebrows done first, could she?
Jack followed Kate up the carpeted stairs towards the Bollywood music and the door covered with posters of Henna-tattooed women with perfect ebony eyebrows. Just when Jack thought she was going to open the salon door, Kate headed further up to a steel bar-covered door that looked like it belonged in a jail cell. She punched a code into the keypad and opened the door when a buzzer vibrated through the narrow staircase.
When Kate opened the door, Jack felt like he had passed through the mirror into Wonderland. They left behind the brown industrial carpet in favor of a black and white tiled staircase that jutted in sharp right angles forming double landings God knew how many levels up. The endless checkered pattern made Jack dizzy.
The dogs seemed to know the building from their daily route with Pam, so Sarah Jessica Barker led them all to the second floor with Diesel following close behind. As soon as both dogs reached the wide landing, they started barking and pawing at the door. Jack ran his fingers over the bronze Mezuzah hanging shoulder height on the right side of the doorframe, remembering his grandmother, the only observant Jew in his family.
“Just a minute,” called a voice dripping in New York from the other side of the door.
Kate held the dogs back from the door as it was pulled open.
“Jack, this is my old roommate, Mrs. Fink.”
Mrs. Fink’s black hair interlocked into coarse ringlets and was topped with an inch-long skunk stripe of white roots. Her upper lip was segmented into deep lines, but with her wide-set chestnut brown eyes and broad smile, Jack could tell she used to be a looker back in the day. Mrs. Fink was wearing a black velour sweat suit with Juicy written across her sunken chest in rhinestone loops.
“Katie, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a man over. I already took my face off for the night,” said the woman, in a voice that seemed too deep for an almost skeletal woman who was at least a foot shorter than Jack.
“We were out having dinner when you called.”
Mrs. Fink raised her eyebrows and nodded her head with a sudden smile.
“I couldn’t just ditch him, could I? Now let us in already.” Kate gently nudged the woman over and led the way into the apartment that the dogs had already furrowed their way into.
“Hi, I’m Jack.” Jack followed Kate into the overly warm apartment.
“Jack what? In my day, a man never introduced himself by first name only.”
“Horowitz.” Luckily, Kate was quick to answer. For a split second Jack had forgotten all about his alias.
“A Jewish boy? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? All is forgiven,” said Mrs. Fink, with a short wave of her arm.
Jack was about to tell her that he was only a non-practicing half-Jew, but she looked so excited he didn’t have the heart to break it to her.
Diesel and Sarah Jessica Barker ran circles around Morty while he stood in the center of the ring barking his head off at them. Morty was a black Schnauzer who was moving his way out of the mini category due to overfeeding. His potbelly dipped low to the ground, making Jack feel bad for his short legs.
“Thanks for bringing the dogs. This is the most excitement the poor boy has had since we watched The Bachelor finale last night.”
“You didn’t tell me what was wrong on the phone.” Kate raised her voice over the loud barks.
“I’m old, that’s what’s wrong,” said Mrs. Fink. “Now can you get Morty out of here before he ruins another one of my good Orientals?”
“Jack, you want to grab our two hooligans while I get Morty?”
“Jack’s going to stay here and keep me company.”
“Don’t start asking him a million questions.” Kate shook her finger at the older woman. “Jack, if she gets too nosy, make sure you let her know.”
“Sure thing.” Jack followed Mrs. Fink into her living room, helped chase down the dogs and gave Kate all three leashes.
Jack could hear the echoes of all the dogs trail down the stairwell. He followed Mrs. Fink into her living room, which looked like the set of the Golden Girls with the rattan couch and armchair that were covered in pastel floral cushions and throw pillows. The white lacquer coffee table was empty except for a crystal bowl of stale-looking pale pink and mint green M&Ms and an 8 x 10 crystal framed picture of Kate wearing a white chef’s coat and hat with her arm around Mrs. Fink. Judging by Kate’s razor-straight bobbed hair and thinly waxed eyebrows, the picture had to be more than a decade old.
Mrs. Fink picked up the picture from the table. “This is my absolute favorite picture! That was when Katie graduated from culinary school.”
“You’ve known Kate since she was in cooking school?” Jack was trying to figure out the mystery of this Felix and Oscar pairing.
“Where do you think the girl lived at the time?”
Jack looked around the room to see if he could spot any more old pictures of Kate. That’s when he noticed the back wall that led into the dining room. It was lined from side to side, floor to ceiling, with gilt framed wedding pictures. Jack walked closer to the peach wall, and saw that the pictures dated back to the sixties when the brides wore beehives and almost white lipstick. He trailed the rows from left to right, top to bottom, until he got to the most recent wedding photo of two men wearing matching tuxedos standing in front of City Hall.
“What’s with all the wedding photos?”
“I’m a matchmaker.” Mrs. Fink took her time making her way over to the wall of pictures. “These are all the couples I’ve set up.”
“For real?” asked Jack. “I didn’t think matchmakers existed these days except in off-Broadway productions of Fiddler on the Roof.”
“Haven’t you ever seen Millionaire Matchmaker? That Patty Stenger has s
ome chutzpa all right, but she’s got the gift.”
“How did you know you had it?”
“It was passed down to me. My mother, grandmother and great-grandmother were all matchmakers in the small town in Hungary where I was born. It skipped my two sisters though. One of them became a teacher and the other a nurse.”
“How do people know about your services? Do you have a Facebook page or something?”
“Word of mouth. I have my own little six degrees of separation up here on this wall. Every single one of these couples was referred by each other, which means they are all connected to each other in some way.”
Jack found it fascinating that the guy from the ‘80s with the tight Jerry curl was connected to the two men in matching white tuxes.
“Where have you been hiding? I’ve been trying to find the perfect match for Katie all these years and here you come along out of thin air. Poof, just like that.” Mrs. Fink closed her fists super tight and then opened her knobby fingers wide like a witch casting a spell.
“We met at the dog park today. I saved Sarah Jessica Barker from being eaten alive by a crazy German Shepherd and Kate took me out for dinner to say thanks. End of story.”
“How do you know that’s the end of your story, Jack Horowitz?”
“I think you’re mixing me up with one of your clients,” said Jack, with a wink. “I’m not looking for love.”
“Love doesn’t only come when you’re searching for it.” Mrs. Fink pointed a hot pink fingernail at him.
“We just met.” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “How did Kate become your roommate?”
“Home companion, not roommate. I keep telling Katie roommate sounds so common. She answered my ad in the Village Voice.”
“Along with a bunch of lunatics, I’m sure.”
“You’re telling me. I narrowed it down to her and a drag queen named Tess Tosterone.”
“I could see how you ended up with Kate.”
“Come in the kitchen. I have Zabar’s.”
Jack followed her into the kitchen, which like most Manhattan rent-controlled apartments had the original pre-war washbasin sink and white wooden cabinets. There was also a silver-specked white Formica table with orange vinyl-covered seats from the Leave it to Beaver era.
