Playing With Matches

by Suri Rosen

  Yours truly,

  Matchmaven

  I hit the send button and sat back in the chair. Was it even possible to fall in love in your sixties or seventies? I’d have said no. I mean, think about it. When was the last time you saw that happen in a movie?

  When it comes to age, people make no sense. If someone dies in their seventies everyone acts like it’s the most freakish thing in the world. How unnatural! “Oh, but she was so young!” they’ll say. But when my mother turned forty she moped about being old for a week. So apparently you’re old in middle age, but when you grow older you become young again.

  Please don’t ask me to explain that.

  Either way, if this match worked out, it would be magic.

  Professor K.’s response came that night.

  Dear Matchmaven,

  I was surprised to receive your suggestion for a match, but this woman sounds lovely. I’d like to take you up on your offer.

  Sincerely,

  Mo Kellman

  Woohoo! Who knew about the thrill of retirement romance!

  chapter 24

  Re-finding Leah

  Professor K. and Esther were an item! It was a fantastic beginning to the new year.

  I huddled in the school bathroom and read Esther’s email.

  Dear Matchmaven,

  First of all, thanks so much for your advice about the black blazer. I wore it on last night’s date with the grey blouse as you suggested. I also wore something that I haven’t put on in almost thirty years: the gold elephant necklace with the three rubies on it and my name engraved in Hebrew. The gift from Lev was so precious but I’ve felt too guilty to wear it. Mo even commented about the necklace — it is of course, an extremely unusual piece.

  Mo has given me a second chance at happiness. The last two weeks with him have been like a dream. No matter how long our conversations are, it never feels like there’s enough time.

  How are things going with you? I’m so glad you shared a little bit about yourself in your last email, even if it was only what you called a “rant.” Is that woman you work with still giving you a hard time? All we can do is try to feel compassion and offer a helping hand.

  With gratitude,

  Esther

  Between Tamara and Jeremy, Leah and Jake, Esther and Professor K., Deb and Daniel, Jonathan and Dena, I was brimming with love. Right?

  Actually not. As thrilled as I was by Esther’s relationship with the professor, her emails left me with a nagging sense of melancholy.

  My problems with Leah were a reflection of my behaviour. Specifically with Mr. Sacks. I was overcome with regret. I’d never considered the expiry date tagged on to the time you get to make amends. And then if you miss your chance you’re haunted forever by something that’s never going to go away and can never be fixed.

  I shuddered and checked my watch, measuring time until school was over.

  When I arrived at home, I headed straight for Mira’s mailbox. I found a flyer for a local tanning salon, two bills, and a cream-coloured envelope for a wedding invitation in Montreal.

  There was still no response from Mr. Sacks.

  I had to face the fact that he was not going to answer my letter. And why should he? What positive thing had I ever done for him?

  It was time to try apologizing again, although maybe he’d think I was stalking him if I sent another letter.

  That’s when the realization hit.

  I was going to be in New York for the Saunders bar mitzvah in a few weeks.

  I would visit Mr. Sacks and apologize in person!

  I commanded myself to be happy when I got the big email from Jake, but I wasn’t having any of it. Maybe nobody would ever be good enough for my sister.

  No matter. Silence was my new philosophy.

  Hi Matchmaven,

  Leah is great. Don’t say anything, but I’m really into her. She’s gorgeous and stylish and lovely. I want to take her out for dinner tonight and then back to the Sheraton Parkway for drinks since that’s where our first date was. I want tonight to be meaningful.

  I’ll be in touch,

  Best,

  Jake

  Meaningful?

  That could mean only one thing.

  Jake was going to propose.

  Dear Leah,

  I hope you’re all ready for tonight’s date. I think Jake really likes you! Just remember that when it comes to big decisions always listen to your gut. You have your whole life ahead of you.

  Xoxo

  Matchmaven

  Was that neutral enough?

  Leah was happy. This was good. Happy Leah borrowed my clothes. Happy Leah smiled at me and complimented me on my friendship with Professor K. Happy Leah even admitted to me that she was seeing someone “special.”

  The night of the “meaningful” date there was a knock on my bedroom door.

  “Listen, don’t ask me questions, okay?” It was Leah. Her hair was pulled back in a half bun, with strands of hair trailing down her cheeks. “I’m going out tonight and I need you to answer the door again.”

  I clapped my hands together and grinned. “No problem.” Mira and Eli were in Stratford for the night so I was promoted to butler.

  “No talking to him, okay?” she said as she pushed a butterfly clasp onto the back of her earring.

  “Not a word,” I said.

  “Also, Bubby’s gawking is embarrassing,” she said. “Would it be possible to keep her away from him too?”

  “No.”

  “I guess that’s too much to ask. So how do I look?” she said, twirling around, her gathered skirt floating in a circle around her.

  “Beautiful,” I said.

  The doorbell rang and I bounded down the stairs.

  “Hi, I didn’t introduce myself last time,” I said. “I’m Leah’s sister, Rain.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Jake.” His was a smile that dazzled.

  “I’m Bubby,” a voice behind me boomed out. “You want some marble cake, maybe?”

  “That’s so incredibly kind of you,” he said to a beaming Bubby. “I’m not hungry now though.”

  “I’ll go get her,” I said. I bolted up the stairs where Leah peaked over the railing, just out of eyesight.

  “He’s cute,” I whispered.

  “I know,” she said, hoisting a Zara bag over her shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

  “What are you doing with this?” I said, grabbing the bag.

  “My scrubs,” she said. “I have a midnight shift, so Jake is going to drop me off at the hospice after the date.”

  “Someone’s feeling comfortable!” I said with the rush of a thrill.

  She pecked me on the cheek and bounced down the stairs. When the front door clicked shut I leapt on my bed and started jumping.

  Leah was re-finding love.

  And I was re-finding Leah.

  I parked myself in front of the computer, with Matchmaven shamelessly open. It had become obvious that Bubby, who was watching an old Blue Jays rerun, was oblivious to everything I was doing on the computer.

  I had two assignments and three tests to contend with in the next three days. I was at the point where just passing would be good enough. Professor K. was going to edit my English paper on Faulkner, so I had to pick that up later.

  The entire semester had been an academic bust. I had become so addicted to matchmaking that I think I’d pretty much confirmed Mrs. Levine’s worst fears about me.

  An hour into wrestling with a math assignment, an instant message popped on the screen.

  Leah: You there, Maven?

  Matchmaven: Yes!!!!

  Leah: Engaged.

  I jumped out of my seat. Leah’s engaged!

  Leah: Jake’s engaged.

  Matchmaven: MA
ZEL TOV!!!!!!

  Wait. Jake’s engaged?

  Matchmaven: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

  Leah: JAKE GOT ENGAGED TO HIS EX

  Matchmaven: WHEN?

  Leah: JUST NOW.

  Matchmaven: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? CAN WE STOP SHOUTING?

  Leah: He got a phone call and disappeared for forty minutes while I sat there like an IDIOT. Then he came back and announced that he was engaged. You warned me to be cautious. I should have listened.

  The tears that sprang from my eyes at that moment were not your basic single-purpose ones. No, I was burning with pain and anger. And hatred.

  How dare he?

  Matchmaven: I could strangle him. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.

  Leah wasn’t responding now.

  Matchmaven: Are you there? Where are you?

  Leah: I’m bawling in the bathroom at the Sheraton Parkway in Richmond Hill. He offered to drive me to the hospice but I told him to get lost. I don’t have any money, and my credit card is at home. All I have is one token for the subway ride home.

  Matchmaven: I’d bring you money but I don’t have a car.

  Leah: What should I do?

  Matchmaven: Call your aunt and uncle.

  Leah: They’re out of town.

  Matchmaven: Get your sister.

  Leah: No! My car is all I have left and she dented it the day after I got it.

  The truth was that ever since I dinged her car I wasn’t even allowed to look at it without sunglasses.

  Leah: Please, this is the worst night of my life.

  A vein on my forehead throbbed like it was going to explode out of my skin. Mira and Eli were in Stratford, Bubby didn’t drive, and Leah didn’t have any friends in Toronto. We were both stuck in a city that we didn’t want to be in. I had to get to her. This was the worst night of our life.

  I had no way of getting there.

  Mira’s car was in for repairs, Eli’s Volvo was with them in Stratford, and I wasn’t going near Leah’s car.

  I dialled Dahlia. She was at her cousin’s birthday party reception.

  I searched for directions to the Sheraton Parkway online, but it was at the corner of Highway 7 and Nowhere. A quick internet search warned me that public transit would take all evening. I called up a car service and was told to expect to pay $40 in each direction, not including a tip. I paced the kitchen in terror. Bubby seemed to be in a near-catatonic state. Think, think. I ran my fingers through my hair, and tried to calm myself down.

  Leah: I feel like my life has slipped away and I’m hanging by a thread. You’re that thread, Maven.

  I eased myself onto the couch next to Bubby. I needed to calm myself down in order to come up with a solution and what could be more hypnotic then watching a minute of the Blue Jays? I exhaled slowly, trying to tame my racing pulse.

  “What’s wrong with you,” Bubby said.

  “Nothing. I’m okay.”

  “Ach, these shmoes are making me crazy,” she said, pointing at the TV. “They should just bring back Cito Gaston.”

  “They losing again?”

  “They don’t have to!”

  I exhaled a slow breath and counted to six. My heart felt like it was going to blow up. How on earth could I get Leah the money?

  The game wasn’t calming me down. “How can you watch them, Bubby?” I said.

  She shrugged. “Nothing else is on.”

  What was I supposed to do about Leah?

  “See, these Jays need to take a lesson from history,” Bubby said with disgust. “Remember Dave Roberts?”

  I knew exactly what she meant. “The Sox are down four to three in the top of the ninth and he steals a base off the Yankees.”

  “And look at that amazing comeback.”

  “And finally, an end to the Curse of the Bambino,” I said.

  “Oh, would you just steal second already!” she yelled at the TV.

  It was a light bulb moment. I jumped off the couch and scurried back to the computer.

  I had no choice.

  Matchmaven: I’m coming.

  Leah: You’re an angel.

  I had to borrow Leah’s car.

  Matchmaven: I care about you. But I must remain anonymous.

  Leah: Please just help me. I’ll look at a magazine so I won’t see you.

  Matchmaven: Okay. I’ll figure out a place to leave the money then I’ll message you.

  Leaving her the money would be another challenge.

  I had to get there first. I didn’t have money for her plus $80 and change for a taxi. But I couldn’t make her wait while I took a bus all night.

  Matchmaven: Promise not to even look for my car. I want to continue working with you, but I can’t be betrayed.

  Leah: I would never betray you.

  I printed out driving directions to the hotel.

  “Bubby, I’m going to crash upstairs,” I said.

  “Sure you are,” she said, her eyes still glued to the TV.

  I flew to Leah’s bedroom where I found the car keys in a ceramic bowl on her desk. Two minutes later I tiptoed out the front door and backed out of the driveway. The car purred quietly as I inched along York Hill Boulevard in the first leg of my journey. There was a light snow falling in the crisp January night. I peered out the rear-view mirror every five seconds and drove well below the speed limit.

  Twenty minutes later I arrived at the Sheraton Parkway where I motored to a distant spot in the parking lot. I inched toward the entrance, alert to the danger of Leah’s presence in every direction.

  Before I pushed through the revolving doors at the front of the building I glanced behind me once last time.

  That’s when I bumped into him.

  Jake!

  I drew back and tried to avert my face.

  “Sorry,” he said. He stepped away and stared at me.

  Why was he still there? Was he trying to torture her? I pushed into the glass doors with clammy hands as fast as the revolving door would take me.

  With Jake apparently off my tail I surveyed the lobby until my eyes alighted on the back of Leah sitting on a couch. Her head was in her hands and her shoulders shook violently.

  My urge to rush over to her battled with the necessity of escaping her line of vision. My heart raced as I considered how visible I was, stationed next to the front desk. Leah suddenly raised her head to pull a tissue from her Zara bag, then dabbed at her eyes. The muscles in my legs tightened. I had to will them not to start running because those legs were pretty darned determined to get out of Dodge.

  When she was done, she rested her forehead in her hand, giving me the opportunity to slink toward the bathroom. I tiptoed across the marble floor to the safety of the bathroom where I examined the long row of wooden doors. I hurried to the last stall and opened the door. I found a frosted glass shelf attached to the rear wall with a silk plant glued on top. I tugged the envelope from my purse and gently wedged it between the plant and the tile.

  My bangs were sealed to my forehead with an adhesive of fear. I exited the bathroom and sidled through the lobby as far away from the couch as possible. Leah was still sobbing silently. I swallowed and raced out of the lobby into the black night. Where the snow had turned into rain. Once inside Leah’s car I exhaled slowly to calm my racing heart. When my hands stopped shaking I dispatched an email to Leah with instructions for finding the cash.

  I powered out of the lot with the rain heavy now. The rhythmic motion of the wipers throbbed like an infected tooth. A fresh swell of sadness rose in me as I visualized Leah alone in the corner of the hotel lobby, weeping silently.

  As I approached Yonge Street my phone rang.

  “Rain! Is everything alright?” It was Professor K. “I’ve been worried about you. You were supposed to be here two hours ago.”


  chapter 25

  Peace with Brutus

  I slapped my hand on my head; I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to go pick up the Faulkner essay that he had offered to edit. At this point it was going to be a miracle if I passed half of my courses this semester, so his help was crucial. I felt terrible about Professor K. He’d even postponed a date with Esther so he could meet me. I glanced at the clock on the dash. It was 9:45 p.m. Bubby would be asleep by now and Mira and Eli weren’t coming back from Stratford until the next day. “I’ll swing by, Professor K.,” I said. “I’m really sorry about this.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  I hung a right onto New Westminster Drive. With the rain drumming on the roof, the car sounded like the inside of a tin can. When I arrived at his house thirty minutes later, we bypassed the pureed vegetables and headed straight to the computer. I pulled up a chair as Professor K. opened Word to find my paper on William Faulkner.

  “First of all,” he said. “I want to congratulate you on a well-written paper.”

  “You do?”

  My phone attempted to interrupt us but I ignored the ringing. When the call repeated two more times Professor K. told me to answer.

  “Rain, it’s me, Deb.”

  “I’m kind of busy now,” I said. Professor K. flipped through the printout of my essay.

  “I just want you to know that I’ve made peace with Brutus. We’re okay now.”

  “Excellent, you fed the dog a treat?”

  “Better. I went to Walmart and got him a big bag of chocolate. Choco-chickies were on sale.”

  “Who wouldn’t love chocolate?”

  Professor K.’s eyes widened under his thick frames.

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “And considering how oversized he is, I got him sugar-free chocolate. The only thing worse than a Great Dane is a fat Great Dane. Anyway when I left Daniel’s apartment he was licking my hand.”

  “They should package sugar-free chocolate treats for big dogs.”