Not Perfect: A Novel

by Elizabeth Laban

  “Hello?” the rabbi said in his warm voice. Maybe talking to him would be a good thing. Maybe she shouldn’t dread it so much.

  “Rabbi Rosen, it’s Tabitha Brewer,” she said quickly. “We were set to come see you today, actually we are supposed to be there in about twenty minutes, but Fern just got sick, as we were walking out the door. And now I just don’t think we’re going to make it.”

  She sensed Fern’s head turning in her direction. She should have gone into the kitchen to make this call. And, really, lying to a rabbi? She didn’t believe she’d be struck down exactly, but she knew it wasn’t the best practice, and certainly, at the very least, it was a bad example.

  “Not to worry, not to worry,” the rabbi said kindly. “Please give Fern my best. I hope she feels much better soon. Will the same time next Monday work?”

  “Yes,” Tabitha said, not even checking her calendar. “That would be great. Thank you.”

  When she hung up, she wrote the appointment on five Post-it notes and placed them around the apartment, then she set a reminder on her phone for the morning of the appointment. There was no getting out of it now. It was the first big meeting with the rabbi to talk about Levi’s upcoming bar mitzvah—barely months away at this point. He had been meeting with the cantor, but now they were supposed to talk about his speech, what was that called? Haftorah? D’var Torah? They sounded the same to her. And they were also going to talk about his community service project. She was happy to have him do this, it was always their plan, but without Stuart here, she felt like a fraud. She wasn’t raised Jewish, even though her father was technically Jewish. Her mother was a Quaker and, despite the alleged gentleness of that religion, it definitely had the strongest arm and won out in her house growing up. Also, she hadn’t told the rabbi, or anyone for that matter, that Stuart was gone. The rabbi expected Stuart to be there. Please plan to have both parents attend, the letter said. Well, at least she had another week to come up with an explanation for his absence. Maybe she’d call ahead a few days before and let them know. She’d probably use the same he’s-away-on-a-business-trip excuse.

  She avoided Fern’s questioning looks as she went to Levi’s room and knocked lightly.

  “What?”

  “Can I come in?” she called through the door, trying to sound as unmad as she could.

  “I’m not going,” he said.

  “Can I please come in?” she tried again.

  No answer. She took that as a yes, and pushed the door open. Levi was sitting at his desk reading a book. She looked closer and saw it was Lord of the Flies. His room was neat. For some reason that made her feel bad for him. She took a deep breath.

  “Hey, I called the rabbi and moved it to next week,” she said. “But we have to go then, okay? No more excuses.”

  Levi didn’t say anything.

  “Okay?”

  “Will Dad be back by next week?” he asked.

  “No,” Tabitha said, then, “I don’t think so. This time the business has been more intense than usual, you know that. I explained it to you. We’ll get started, and Dad should be back well before the big day.” At least I hope so, she thought, but didn’t add. She wasn’t even sure she did hope that. She wasn’t sure what she hoped.

  “I don’t want to do it without Dad here,” Levi said, still looking at his book.

  Tabitha felt so mad she didn’t know what to do. Not at Levi, at Stuart. When Levi pretended not to care, it was so much easier.

  “Tell you what,” Tabitha said. “Let’s go meet with the rabbi next week, with or without Dad, and we’ll try to figure things out. We have to talk about your speech and your service project.”

  “I already know what I want to do,” Levi said, perking up a little.

  “You do?” Tabitha never had a bat mitzvah, and she wasn’t sure what the parameters were in choosing this sort of thing.

  “I want to volunteer at a place called The Family Meal,” he said. “Dad mentioned it a few times and it sounds cool.”

  “What do they do? What kind of organization is it?” she asked, walking over to his neatly made bed and sitting down.

  “Can you just look it up?” Levi said, annoyed. She’d lost him. He didn’t want to talk anymore. She never should have sat on his bed, giving the impression she planned to stay and chat.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “I have to read,” he said.

  “Okay, I’m leaving.”

  “And what’s for dinner?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

  Dinner. What was for dinner? She glanced at her watch. It was just five thirty now, she had time. And she wasn’t even sure what Fern would be up to eating tonight. She left Levi without answering, took her laptop into the living room, and sat on the love seat across from Fern.

  “How are you feeling, sweetie?” she asked.

  “Much better.”

  Tabitha reached over to feel her forehead. It was cool.

  She logged on to her computer and checked her email. Nothing. Then she went to Stuart’s account. Or his old account. She had a feeling he had a new one, or else he’d cut off all ties to electronic mail. She wasn’t sure which. About a month ago it occurred to her that she could get into his account. She knew, or thought she knew, some of the passwords he used frequently, and she was right. His Gmail account, which was the only one she knew about, the one he emailed her from when he emailed her, was easy. It took only two tries. The password was GoBlue1990—referring to the University of Michigan and the year he graduated. It was so obvious that once Tabitha was in she looked around for Stuart for a second. She wanted to say, Really?

  Now she clicked the keys and held her breath as it loaded. There wasn’t a single personal email since she last checked. Well, there was one—from a cousin who was just sending a save-the-date notice for a wedding in August. August! Who could think that far ahead at this point? She didn’t even know what she was going to feed the kids for dinner, not to mention breakfast and lunch tomorrow. She thought, and not for the first time, that it might not have been such a good evolutionary plan to have to eat numerous times a day to stay alive.

  An email from Brooks Brothers came up, and Starbucks. And then something from the local University of Michigan Alumni Association. The subject line read “Happy Hour.” She clicked on it and saw there was a happy hour that night to “get psyched and sing a rousing round of ‘The Victors’” in preparation for the football game on Saturday, when there would be another gathering to watch the game. “Hotdogs, mini burgers, tacos and more!” It went until six thirty. And it was at the Fox & Hound at Fifteenth and Spruce, three blocks away! She pushed her laptop shut.

  “Will you guys be okay for a few minutes?” Tabitha asked Fern.

  “Uh huh,” she answered in a way that made Tabitha think she didn’t hear her. Probably better that way, she could slip out and be back before Fern even realized she was gone.

  She considered taking a chance and not telling Levi. If he was reading in his room, he might not notice. But that would be bad, completely irresponsible.

  She trudged back to his door and knocked.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to run out for a few minutes,” she said. “Will you open your door so you can hear Fern if she needs anything?”

  “Is she still puking?” he asked with mild disgust in his voice.

  “No, she hasn’t for hours. I don’t think she’s going to anymore.”

  She heard footsteps, the door opened.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To pick up something for dinner,” she said.

  He looked at her suspiciously, furrowing his brows in a way that made her think of Stuart. She looked beyond him, to the window that overlooked the Square.

  “Okay,” he said. He sounded tired. “But be back soon. I’m starving. I’m so hungry I feel a little sick.”

  She went back down the hall and saw Levi’s door close, then open again. She headed to her room and looked in the mir
ror. Did she do any brushing today? She thought not and brushed her hair and used a little baking soda on her teeth. She was saving the toothpaste for the kids. She pulled out her lipstick and gently brushed it over her lips. A little color was better than no color, but she didn’t want to use too much. She put the silver tube back in her purse and walked out through the living room to the high-ceilinged foyer. She’d need some sort of container to gather the food. She headed back to the kitchen and looked through the drawers. The big Tupperware was a possibility if she brought a huge bag, but big ziplock bags were probably better. She couldn’t find any new ones, but took an opened paper bag of sugar out of one and an opened bag of flour out of another, dumping both plastic bags out over the sink to get them as clean as possible. She pulled tiny pieces of tape off the dispenser and sealed the flour and sugar—she couldn’t risk losing it or having the sugar get sticky from water or humidity.

  “I’ll be right back,” she called but no one answered. She knew she looked awful. But who was going to go to a Michigan happy hour on a Tuesday anyway? It would be busy on Saturday, she was sure of it, those Michigan fans were over the top, but today? It didn’t matter how she looked.

  The air felt so good on her face that she considered not going and just walking around the Square a few times, maybe using a bit of the last of her credit to order that wonton soup. But she knew she shouldn’t pass up a chance to get free food, and food that Levi would probably love.

  It took just a few minutes to get there. She’d been here before, with Stuart, on a fall Saturday last year when the kids were both busy and she wanted to try to do something he liked, try to connect with him. So they came to the Michigan–Michigan State game. It had been so crowded they didn’t even end up sitting together.

  She walked in and was happy to see it wasn’t full, though there were more people than she would have expected. It was a big place, with lots of young people standing around drinking. It was easy to spot the Michigan group—they were all wearing maize and blue. She could almost hear Stuart’s voice in her head. “They don’t call it yellow,” he would scold her if she ever made that mistake, which she did on purpose just to bug him. She looked down at her ratty red sweater. Ugh. There were holes along the bottom and a small coffee stain to the right side. Worse than that, though, even she knew red was the color of Michigan’s arch rival, Ohio State. Well, it was just going to have to do. She wasn’t trying to make any friends here, just get some food for her children.

  But as she was about to head over to the buffet, a young dark-haired man stood on a chair and demanded their attention. Could she slip over while he was talking? Probably, but she decided not to take the chance. Instead she stood still and tried to cover up as much of her red sweater as she possibly could.

  “Okay, so it’s a big game on Saturday, and I just want to make sure we’ll have a big turnout,” he called into the group. “Can I see a show of hands from everyone who plans to be here?”

  Everyone raised their hand except for Tabitha. They were really going to think she was in the wrong place, so she raised it. The young man nodded at her, then at the crowd, counting softly to himself.

  “That should do it—but tell your friends. I mean, I really think they can feel our energy in Ann Arbor. They need us to gather to support them, so thank you for coming tonight, and please, each of you, bring at least one other person on Saturday, okay?”

  Everyone cheered and said, “Yes!”

  Tabitha mumbled, “Okay.”

  She thought it was over and began to inch toward the buffet. She saw pigs in a blanket and mini burgers. She hoped there were tacos. Levi loved tacos.

  “Before you guys indulge in the great food provided by the Philadelphia chapter of the U of M Alumni Association, let’s join in a rousing round of ‘The Victors.’ I want them to be able to hear us in New Jersey, okay?”

  Tabitha felt like people were looking at her. Why hadn’t she grabbed Stuart’s abandoned T-shirt before she came over?

  “One, two, you know what to do,” the enthusiastic chapter leader called off.

  Tabitha knew the words. She knew them as well as she knew that you never say yellow when talking about Michigan colors. She had no intention of participating, but found herself belting out the words: “Hail to the victors, valiant . . .” She thought at some point she’d lose the thread and forget a word, but she didn’t. She managed to sing all the way through: “. . . The champions of the west, Go Blue!” She actually punched her fist up into the air as everyone else did with those last words. When it was over, she was a little sorry. It felt good to sing like that. Maybe she should join a choir or something.

  Now she could go get the food, right? She had more than done her duty here—put some positive Michigan spirit out into the world. As she turned, she noticed a man looking at her. He was off to the side and just behind her. He was tall and clean cut, wearing khaki pants, a navy-blue sweatshirt with a big maize M on the front over what looked like a dress shirt and tie. He wore glasses, and as she looked at him he smiled at her, a big, warm smile.

  “Hi!” she said, without thinking. It was just a reflex. She regretted it right away. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  “Nice sweater,” he said, but he said it warmly. He had a very deep voice.

  “Oh, yeah, I realized my mistake as soon as I got here,” she said. “My daughter is home sick, but I didn’t want to miss this, you know, I wanted to put out that good energy. So I ran out of the house, and I didn’t change into my usual Michigan gear. I almost left, but, well, I wanted to be here.”

  “I’m sorry your daughter isn’t feeling well.” He said it like he cared.

  Tabitha looked behind him. He seemed to be alone, unless his companion was in the bathroom. That was likely, in fact, since she realized they were waiting just outside the women’s restroom.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Tabitha said. It was surprisingly nice to talk to a grown-up. “She’s much better now. But it was touch and go. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to sneak out. When she was well enough that I could, I just ran, hence the poor choice of clothing. But I should be getting back.”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. “Well I hope she continues to feel better.”

  “Thanks,” she said again. “Me, too. I think she will.”

  Now Tabitha was stuck. She didn’t want to walk out. She needed the food! She nodded awkwardly and ducked into the bathroom just on the other side of the man, hoping his person would come out before she did so he’d move away. But the bathroom was empty. Maybe his partner was in the men’s room. Whatever the case, she hoped the man would be long gone when she came out. She checked her phone. It was already 6:12—the food was going to be gone in less than twenty minutes. She waited until 6:18 and went back out. The man was at the buffet, still alone. She took a deep breath and walked over. She picked up one of the tiny plates—why couldn’t they have had bigger plates?—and filled it, smiling to the man as she passed him. He was studying the burgers—they all looked the same to Tabitha—and she skipped them as she gathered the pigs in a blanket and fries. She took the plate to a table, set it down, and went back twice more, filling each plate with the tacos she was happy to see there, and finally the burgers. Back at her table, she pulled out one of the bags and filled it, leaving it on her lap and hoping nobody was paying attention. The man was still at the buffet, clearly having a hard time deciding what to choose. She emptied the plates, put the bag in her purse, and decided to go back one more time. She didn’t quite have enough, and they had just put out a new tray of something, she wasn’t sure what.

  The place was mostly cleared out now. If only that man weren’t there, she could almost take it all. Why did she have to talk to him? But really, why did she care? She would probably never see him again. She approached the buffet. He had finally decided on one small burger and a handful of sweet potato fries.

  “I don’t eat a lot of meat,” he said when he saw her. She jumped a tiny bit, which was ridiculous. �
�But this looks so good, I’m just going to do it.”

  “Good for you,” she said, thinking about adding, You only live once, but decided against it.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked, turning and pointing toward her table. He saw the empty plates. “Oh, you ate that fast.” He must have been paying more attention to what she was doing than she realized, but at least he missed the dumping it into bags and stealing it part.

  “Yeah, I guess. I really have to go. I want to get back to my daughter, and my son just texted that he’s starving,” she lied, “I think I’m going to bring a little of this home for him.”

  “Good idea,” the man said, like it was no big deal at all.

  She turned her back to him and loaded another plate. The new tray was full of grilled chicken, which might be just the thing for Fern. It looked plain and juicy. There were also some fresh rolls. When Tabitha turned around again, she saw the man sitting at her table. Who was this guy? She had to walk by the table to reach the exit, and she had to figure out a way to transport the new plate. She couldn’t just walk through the streets carrying it. Going to another table would seem strange. She walked over to him but didn’t sit. Instead, she pulled the second empty bag out of her purse and put the plate inside.

  “You come prepared,” he said, but again, his tone was friendly, not accusing.

  “I guess I do,” she said.

  “Will you be here on Saturday?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, even though of course she had no intention of coming.

  “If you think this spread is something, you should see it on game day. They really go all out,” he said proudly. She thought back to that day she was here with Stuart. It was a game day. They must have had an incredible spread, but Tabitha hadn’t even noticed. She hadn’t been hungry, and she certainly hadn’t been desperate for food. But she remembered that night for some reason. The plan was to have an early dinner at the steak house on the ground floor of their building, one of the best in the city. Sam Soto, the restaurant critic for The Record, gave it three swans, and rumor had it he was considering upping it to four, his highest rating. Stuart wanted to get there before that happened, before it was impossible to get a reservation. But, and now she almost laughed to herself, she remembered that she didn’t even want to go. Did they have to have such a big dinner? There was always so much food left on their plates that they would end up taking home and never eating. If only, she thought to herself now. She noticed the man waiting patiently for her to respond to what he’d just said.