Brooklyn Love (Crimson Romance)

by Yael Levy

  She and her mother rose from the couch as he joined them in the living room, where he paused to take a deep, long breath, inhaling the special smell of the Sabbath. There was nothing as peaceful as this. “Good Shabbos, girls,” he greeted them, and they sang the traditional Sabbath songs, welcoming the angels that had walked home with him from shul.

  Jewish lore held that good and evil angels accompany every man home from synagogue on Friday nights. If the home is a peaceful one that honors the Sabbath, the good angel will bless the home to sustain its good fortune; but if a home is filled with discord or disrespect for the Sabbath, the evil angel will curse the household to continue in a negative direction. The Shines’ Sabbath ritual left no question which angel would prevail.

  Abe Shine sang “Eishet Chayil, A Woman of Valor,” King Solomon’s ode to the capable woman. Rachel reflected on how romantic she found this particular ritual. Every Shabbos, no matter the ups and downs of a relationship, the husband praises his wife in front of anyone present, recognizing her contribution to the home and family. But her father didn’t need the Sabbath to show such appreciation. He often expressed his pride that his wife was a true balabusteh, not just in the home, but also in every way. Her advice, encouragement, and sacrifices had helped the family succeed and thrive; if it weren’t for her, he would not be in the position he was in now.

  Rachel watched her father gaze at his wife, now pleasantly plump after many years of marriage, and remembered that he had once told her that he still saw his wife as the beautiful child bride he’d married. A petite and voluptuous redhead, Debby Shine had been just seventeen at the time, but she was so bright, kind, and vivacious, he’d known through his core, from the moment they met, that she was his basherte, the only one for him.

  Debby would laugh at his romanticism and say that she’d married him simply because her parents told her to look for a husband who was tall, professional, and didn’t wear glasses — and Abe fit the bill. Still, she would admit that she had heard music around him and couldn’t figure out where the music was coming from. They were engaged after three dates and still happily married many years later. And the funny thing was, Debby Shine had confided in Rachel, sometimes when it was very quiet, just sometimes, that she still heard Abe’s music.

  After the songs, Abe made kiddush, the blessing over the wine, heralding the holiness of the Sabbath. As they washed their hands for the ritual of breaking bread, Abe made a blessing over the rich, brown challah, and when the women answered “Amen,” the Sabbath meal began. They ate the delicious chicken soup (not mushy), roast beef, potato kugel, and salad with gusto, ever grateful for their present blessings.

  Rachel’s parents had both grown up extremely poor, in families in which one parent was an American and the other an immigrant. The stories abounded of Abe’s childhood, living in a rat-infested tenement in Williamsburg, where one chicken in a watered-down soup had to last a week of dinners for seven people, and the toilet seat lid had to be kept closed to prevent the sewer rats from swimming in from the plumbing. Abe had once seen a rat climb out of the toilet when someone in the family forgot, and another time he’d had to frighten a rat out of his baby brother’s crib.

  But that was then. After years of struggling and bringing up four kids with no outside help, their life was a different story now. Abe was a tax attorney and a partner in Kaufman and Shine, a thriving law practice. Debby, who’d earned both an MBA and a license to sell securities, worked as a financial advisor, and she maintained an attentive pulse on whatever her clients needed. Abe and Debby often worked together, offering clients complete packages that often saved them thousands of tax dollars. Everyone in the community had heard of them; their honesty and commitment to their clients was renowned.

  Rachel was proud of her parents, but more than that, she enjoyed them as her friends and advisors. She had faith that they wanted what was best for her and would try to steer her straight. Although she felt for Leah, she couldn’t relate to their other friends who rebelled against their parents or complained about their angst-ridden relationships. And although her mother could be overbearing, Rachel thought that her parents were nearly perfect. At least tonight, they were infallible.

  “So Rachel, I noticed your light on in middle of the night most of this week,” said her father, opening the dinner conversation.

  “Mmm.” Rachel slurped her soup. “I’ve been busy with school — a big project.”

  Ma interjected. “Just school?”

  “Well, also, Daniel Gold has been phoning.”

  “He’s a catch,” Ma chimed in. “Makes money.”

  “Ahh,” replied Daddy. “Good guy?”

  “The dates have been fun. He’s taken me all over. He’s bright.”

  Her father nodded his head. “That’s nice.”

  “He’s a Columbia University graduate, Abe. He’s a smart boy,” said Ma.

  “Good, good.”

  Ma continued. “He’s taking her to a comedy club after Shabbos is over.”

  Daddy looked genuinely surprised. “We sure didn’t do that in our day!”

  Ma agreed. “When we were dating, it wasn’t so formal. Maybe Hassidim were formally introduced, but the rest of us met at dances or basketball games.”

  Rachel wistfully shook her head. “I wish!”

  Ma sighed. “I don’t know why everybody got so formal, the rabbis so strict. So they don’t want kids jumping in the bushes, but no need for all this formality.”

  “True,” said Daddy. “It’s nice this fellow thinks outside of the box.”

  Ma looked at him. “But a comedy club? How do they get to know each other like that?”

  Rachel shrugged. “It sure beats another boring date watching the planes take off and land at JFK Airport.”

  Abe laughed. “Enjoy it, Rachel. You’re only young once.”

  Rachel knew her father was somewhat curious about his daughter’s suitor, but he wasn’t going to talk about her social life unless she brought it up. He didn’t want to intrude. Abe felt it important to let his kids learn to make their own decisions, especially a decision as big as whom to marry. Within reason, of course.

  “So what’s that project you’ve been working on so late into the night?” he asked.

  “I’m doing a scene for an illustration class. The teacher, Tricia, wants us to produce a painting of True Love. I’m hoping to finish it for the internship contest with Disney. In fact, I’m going to do a series. The students will have their portfolios reviewed by a Disney representative later this year, and whoever has the best portfolio gets to work for them in the summer.”

  Her father smiled. “That’s a wonderful opportunity.”

  “What? Where would she stay in Florida?” Ma demanded. “Aunt Shelley lives in Miami Beach. How would she commute to Orlando?”

  “Ma, I didn’t win yet.”

  “But still.”

  Rachel groaned. “Could we cross that bridge when we come to it?”

  Ma shook her head. “But what if you get married soon? How do you know if this fellow would want to go to Orlando?”

  Rachel dropped her spoon into her chicken soup. “I don’t know. But can’t I try? Can’t I try, Ma?”

  Ma shrugged and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Nu. So try.”

  “Tell us about the painting, Rachel,” Abe said evenly.

  “I’m doing a series to illustrate a family story. Right now I’m working on a portrait of Ma’s great-grandfather sweeping his bride up onto his majestic steed — ”

  Ma chuckled. “Majestic steed? More like a flea-bitten nag. But I guess you like that romantic galloping-into-the-sunset nonsense.”

  Abe chuckled as well. “Ah! The glory of a dreary shtetl! Was that before the pogroms or after?”

  “Come on, Ma!” Rachel said defensively. “Their story is roma
ntic. I’d like to hear it again.”

  As Abe and Rachel continued to savor their roast beef, the steam rising from the rich gravy, Mrs. Shine obliged her daughter, telling the familiar family story of Raizel and Berel. How they met when Raizel was only fifteen. How, despite his imposing height and life as a soldier, Berel was kind and strong. How her parents pushed her to marry him by giving her gifts and a pretty dress in order to continue their traditions and secure a future for their daughter. How, over the years, they grew together, and grew to love each other deeply, working the farm, making a living in good times and bad, bearing children, raising children, and burying children. And as Rachel listened to her mother, she not only heard her mother’s words, but she felt them as well.

  Rachel and her father had completed the main course by the time Ma finished her story, and in the silence that followed, Rachel began clearing the table. “It is romantic, Ma,” she said.

  Her parents looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Romance, shmomance,” Ma said. “The bottom line is that he was good to her.”

  After reciting the blessing Grace After Meals, Rachel wished her parents a “Good Shabbos” and donned her red shearling Shabbos coat and her blue suede heels for the short walk up the block. It was Friday night — time to get together with her girlfriends.

  • • •

  When Rachel arrived at Leah’s home, Leah was sitting on the couch staring at the cake in front of her, but not touching it. “I don’t think he knows I exist,” Leah sighed. Her mother often brought home creamy cakes from the bakery where she worked. Rachel helped herself to a large slice.

  “So put up a sign.”

  Leah glared. “Rachel.”

  Rachel shrugged. “So fall on him. I don’t know. Why doesn’t he notice you? I thought you were in love with him.”

  The candles shone brightly, and Rachel and Leah were commiserating in the living room as Leah’s mother tidied up after Shabbos dinner. As strict as Leah’s mother was, ever since high school she’d allowed Leah to invite her friends over every Friday night after dinner. Rachel had realized long ago that there was only one way this tradition would stop — when one of them got married.

  Rachel sighed. “Your new hair color is beautiful and you look amazing in contact lenses. Maybe you should ask Suri what you should do now to motivate the guy to marry you.”

  “Let’s not go there,” Leah said and glared at her friend. “Anyway, he shares notes with me. He laughs if I make a joke. But he won’t ask me out. I don’t know what to do.”

  Rachel polished off her slice. “Find a matchmaker to set you up.”

  “Are you out of your mind? I told you, he wears jeans.”

  “So?”

  “No way would my mother agree to this, even if it came from a matchmaker. He’s too modern and he’s planning to be a rabbi, which is a poor financial choice.”

  “So how on earth would you marry him anyway? By going against your mother?”

  “I’m hoping to ease into it. Maybe my mother will grow to love him.”

  “Are we talking about the same person?”

  Leah looked over her shoulder to see if her mother was eavesdropping; she wasn’t.

  Rachel shrugged. “Maybe you should just call him up.”

  Leah gasped. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “All right,” Rachel conceded. “Get out some of your magazines. Maybe the advice column will have the answers.”

  Leah shook her head. “Believe me, I looked. They all said I should call him.”

  Rachel nodded sympathetically. “I guess you’ll just have to wait for him to make the first move.”

  “How much time do you think I have? I’m still officially dating Chaim Nudle. I told my mother that I don’t like him, but she keeps pushing for just one more date.”

  “I can’t believe you agreed to that.”

  Leah grimaced. “My mother said that if I don’t agree to Chaim, the next one on the list is Zusha Feintuch.”

  Now Rachel gasped. “Not Zusha.”

  “I know. But what can I do?”

  “You can’t marry Chaim Nudle, and you can’t even waste your time with Zusha.”

  Leah shrugged. “He’s not so bad. I don’t mind his weight, and maybe I could learn to live with the spit when he talks … ”

  “But what about his ukulele? He doesn’t shut up about that ukulele.”

  “This is true,” Leah said with a groan. “I want to smash that ukulele into a thousand pieces.”

  “You can’t think about Zusha.”

  Leah reached over for a napkin. “Who, then? After those stupid rumors, how many opportunities do you think I have, Rachel?”

  “I don’t know. It’s got to be better than those two.”

  Leah’s voice started to tremble. “They aren’t exactly banging down the door for me, you know.”

  “You have to have faith, Leah.”

  “Faith,” said Leah, meticulously wiping her hands with a napkin, though she hadn’t eaten a thing, “is for people too weak or too simple to make hard decisions. A person has to do what she must do.”

  Rachel looked at her intently. “And what is it that you must do?”

  They heard a knock on the door, and Rachel got up to answer it.

  Hindy came in and went straight to the cake to cut a slice. “Good Shabbos. Yum, this cake is good.” She licked the cream from her fingers and looked at Leah. “I met the perfect guy for you at the cleaners,” she added through the chocolate cream.

  Leah managed a smile. “Let me guess — a yeshiva guy?”

  Hindy shook her head. “This one didn’t confuse Plato with Play-Doh.”

  Rachel grinned. “Sounds promising.”

  “Tell all,” Leah prodded.

  Hindy shrugged. “What’s to tell? I sewed a gown for a bride, and it needed to be pressed before her wedding. So I went to the dry cleaners, and instead of the older guy there, his son, Eli Feldman, was working behind the counter. He was reading a heavy textbook and was engrossed, just like you get when you’re studying for school. So I thought, maybe for Leah? Later, I asked his parents for you. Sounds like a nice guy. He goes to Touro College but will be joining his parents’ dry cleaning business after a year or two of learning.”

  Rachel nodded. “Leah, that’s just what your mother wants for you.”

  “Maybe I should check him out,” Leah said.

  Hindy continued. “Anyway, I met a new girl in the bagel shop. Her name is Ilana. She just moved here from Israel and I invited her over tonight.”

  “Why’d she move here, now?” asked Rachel.

  “To get married. Why else would anyone come here?” Leah said, only partly sarcastically.

  Hindy shrugged. “She said she came to live with her cousins, who are baalei teshuva. Well, everyone except her uncle.”

  “Really?” Rachel was fascinated; she had never met a ba’al teshuva, someone who was new to religious observance.

  Excitedly, Hindy relayed the coveted information while trying not to break the Jewish law forbidding gossip. “Her uncle is a professor of mathematics — and an agnostic.”

  “An agnostic!” Rachel’s shocked expression mirrored Leah’s. Sure, people questioned their faith, but only in hushed conversations. None of the girls had ever met anybody in Brooklyn who openly questioned the existence of God. “New here from Israel with a relative who is an agnostic — I’m sure she’ll have a real easy time finding a match!” she added in a dubious tone.

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” added Leah as they heard a light knock at the door.

  She got up to welcome their guest. Rachel and Leah tried not to gape when Leah opened the door. With jet-black hair and dark, olive-toned skin, Ilana looked like a movie star.

 
; “Hi, good Shabbos! We’re so happy you could make it.”

  “Hi!” Ilana greeted the girls in a natural manner, as if totally unaware of her striking appearance. Taking off her blue parka, she revealed a simple white knit shift, which accentuated her long, thick hair and voluptuous curves. Rachel noted that Ilana wasn’t dressed fashionably like her New York friends. But even modestly dressed, she exuded beauty and femininity.

  “I wasn’t sure which was the house, but I saw the lights on and heard the laughter, so I figured this was the place,” Ilana said.

  Rachel immediately liked her. She seemed so honest and unaffected. So natural. So not New York. “Could I paint you?” she blurted out.

  Everybody stared at Rachel.

  Hindy shook her head. “Don’t mind her. She’s a crazy artist.”

  “Don’t agree, Ilana,” Leah said. “She’s merciless. She’s made all of us pose at one time or another, and she makes you stand still for hours; you can’t even scratch your nose or she gets all huffy.”

  Rachel sighed. “Some friends you are. I have a painting due for class, and I haven’t been able to get the poses right. Would you mind posing for me sometime after Shabbos so I can get the figure right?”

  Ilana shrugged. “Sure. Why not? As long as I keep on my clothing.” She helped herself to a slice of cake.

  “Great!” Rachel felt thrilled. “And don’t worry — you’ll be dressed modestly. You’ll be posing as the living embodiment of my great-great-grandmother!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Shabbos morning Rachel woke up to the sunlight shining through her window and warming her face. As she slowly opened her eyes and regarded her familiar nest, she thought for the first time that the decor in her room had become too immature for her. She was dating. She might get married soon. Why did she still have all those stuffed animals on her shelves? Maybe she should redo her room in a more sophisticated manner, like all white. Daniel would probably appreciate a white room.

  But even if she redecorated her room, she’d still have to deal with all the clutter — years of objects and memorabilia that she’d kept for sentimental reasons. Now that she might be getting married soon, maybe it was time to reorganize. Prioritize. Keep only what was absolutely necessary.