by Yael Levy
Hindy cradled her Psalms close to her heart, and for the first time since she’d started to go on dates, she felt positively joyous. This truly was a miracle from God.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rachel still needed to work on her project for school, which was due on Monday. She called her new friend Ilana and begged her to pose. Ilana said she had a lot to do at home but wouldn’t mind posing if Rachel swung by her house.
Rachel grabbed her supplies and easily found the address Ilana had given her.
“Hi, I’ll be with you in one minute.” Ilana led Rachel to their living room. The house was painted in sturdy, earthy hues.
A dirty-looking man in torn clothing sat in the kitchen eating a bowl of soup. “This is the best soup, Ilana.”
Ilana smiled and offered him more. He declined and took his leave, the waft of his body odor trailing behind him.
“Who was that?” Rachel asked.
“A homeless guy we know. He comes by for soup.”
“You let him in the house?”
“My aunt and uncle are upstairs. It’s no big deal. So how do I pose?”
Rachel took out her canvas and set it up on her portable easel. “This project is for my final grade and will be reviewed by Disney.” She showed Ilana what she was doing: a scene of her great-great-grandmother Raizel playing cheies — a type of jacks — with her friends, the final moment of her girlhood before her marriage.
“It’s lovely,” Ilana said. “What happens if Disney likes it?”
“The winners get offered a summer internship.”
“Cool!”
“Yeah. I really hope I win.”
Ilana studied Rachel’s work. “I especially love those touches of green. You know, I love to paint, too.” She assumed her pose.
Rachel smiled. “Great. We can paint together!” She stood silently at her easel in concentration. Observing Ilana, who posed patiently, Rachel was able to capture the nuances of how the young woman would look. After what felt like moments, but must have been more than an hour, she heard the door open.
“Hey, I’m home. Anyone up for French fries?”
Rachel froze. She knew that voice. She had tried to forget it, but that voice had lingered in her subconscious.
He came into the living room, where Ilana knelt on the floor and Rachel painted.
“Hey, Ilana. What are you up to, eh?”
And then he saw her.
Rachel looked up from her canvas and tried to avert her eyes, but she couldn’t.
It was him.
“Rachel Shine. What are you doing here?”
Rachel put down her paintbrush. “I could ask you the same question.”
“I live here.”
Rachel looked to Ilana to see if this was true.
“You know my cousin, Rachel?” Ilana asked.
“No. She doesn’t know me at all.” Jacob Zohar turned to leave. “Sorry to intrude.”
“Wait!” Rachel said, as Jacob stood silently. “I’m sorry. About everything.”
Jacob turned to face Rachel. Their eyes locked and Jacob nodded. “I don’t understand why — ”
“It’s just the way it is here,” Rachel interrupted, and wiped tears that welled up in her eyes. “Really. It’s nothing personal. Nothing I can control.”
Ilana stepped in between them. “It’s all right, Jacob. We’re almost done. How about making some of your awesome fries?”
“All right,” Jacob said and retreated to the kitchen. “I just think the way you Brooklyn people do things is insane.”
Rachel agreed and resumed working on the portrait. The smell of the fries permeated the room, and Rachel enjoyed painting as Jacob cooked and Ilana posed for the portrait of the bride and groom. She had painted them in muted colors, like an old-fashioned hand-tinted photograph. As Ilana posed for her, wearing a pale gray shawl that concealed her long denim skirt and red T-shirt, Rachel put on the finishing touches. She’d had difficulty capturing Ilana’s expression, though; the bride’s face was not looking as she’d hoped.
Jacob came into the room. She could feel him behind her, even though he didn’t say a word. He brought out a platter of fries, and Rachel stopped painting to have one. Ilana was right — the fries were perfect: crispy on the outside, soft and flavorful on the inside, cut thick, and lightly salted.
“Ooh, these are really good,” Rachel said, reaching for another. “French fries are my favorite food.” She sat down on the worn brown couch, shoving aside a colorful crocheted afghan.
Jacob went over to the easel. It stood in middle of his living room atop a mat of recycled paper, which covered their shaggy green carpet.
“Wow. That’s fantastic, Rachel.” He stared at her painting. “I love those colors. It’s beautiful.”
Rachel smiled.
“But why is the groom just sketched in?” he pointed out.
“I need a male figure to pose,” Rachel answered, moving aside a pile of books as she placed her plate of fries on the teak coffee table. “My dad has no patience, and Daniel has no time for me. Er, I mean, Daniel has no time.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t mind,” said Jacob and he sat on the plush taupe recliner that faced the couch.
“You’re sure?” Rachel asked.
Jacob shrugged. “Whatever. I doubt I’ll ever understand your community but I won’t hold it against you.” Jacob smiled. “So how should I pose?”
Rachel felt her heart leap. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
Ilana nodded as she picked up magazines that had fallen off the coffee table. “It’s true what they say about her, Jacob. She is merciless. You can’t move when she is painting. You can’t even scratch your nose.”
Jacob leaned back in his chair and laughed. “You don’t scare me.”
Rachel was dubious. Even if Jacob could stand it — could she? “It could take hours,” she said. “Hours.”
“Look, I have to learn a few tractates of Talmud and go over some notes from my programming class,” said Jacob. “If you let me stand and study, I’m all yours.”
“Really?” That could work, she thought. She could capture the face when he looked up from his text and notes and work on the body when he looked back down. “Okay!”
The doorbell rang. Ilana’s aunt called to her from the door. “It’s Macy, dear.”
Macy came into the living room in his leather jacket, his guitar swung over his back, reeking of cologne. “Hey, Rach, Jake. C’mon Ilana, can’t be late.”
Ilana got up to go, smiling. “A date,” she whispered to Rachel gleefully.
“Have fun!” they called out behind her.
Rachel suddenly felt awkward … excited … miserable. She was alone in a room with Jacob Zohar.
• • •
Leah was home studying, just as she wanted. The only way she was able to study for the upcoming medical school entrance exam was by telling her mother she had computer homework, and that Chaim didn’t seem interested in her. As usual her mother blamed her. But after three disastrous dates, Leah couldn’t dare waste another moment of her precious studying time. It was becoming more and more clear to her that she had to become a doctor, if she ever wanted any freedom. Her Brooklyn friends were concentrating solely on finding husbands, and though Leah wanted the same, she’d decided that this would be a big mistake, as all they’d be doing was shifting their dependence on their parents to their husbands. She was going to be a doctor and that meant a focus and a commitment to medicine first — there’d be time enough for marriage.
She sat at her desk reviewing the same words she’d read the night before. There was so much material to learn; sometimes it seemed endless. She flipped to the next page and the words started to blur, but she didn’t close the book — her MCATs were comi
ng up in April, and she needed to ace the medical school entrance exam. At three A.M., Leah closed her books.
• • •
Ilana tapped her toes and clapped her hands to the beat. She was sitting in a club in Greenwich Village, listening to Macy Kaufman ham it up on the guitar, his blond hair spilling over his blue eyes every time he bent his head to get into his music.
Macy often played at the Blue Note, as the manager there encouraged talented amateurs to play before and after the featured musicians. Some Blue Note players eventually went on to become the featured musicians — and quite a few famous musical artists had the Blue Note to thank as the starting point for their success. But for Macy Kaufman, the gigs were pure fun.
Dancing on the low stage with his guitar, Macy finished his song and cleared his throat. “The next song I’d like to dedicate to the one whose very name is a song.” He moved his head closer to the microphone. “To the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he said. “To Ilana.”
The crowd of young people sitting at their tables downing apple martinis wasn’t paying much attention to Macy, except for Ilana and two women sitting together, who were more than a little smashed. “The word is woman, boy,” one of the drunken women shouted. “It is woman!”
Macy laughed and then smiled at Ilana as he began to play a slow acoustic version of Eric Clapton’s famous ballad of unrequited love, “Layla.” Only when the lyrics called for the name “Layla,” he substituted “Ilana.”
With this song the crowd became more attentive, and soon everybody was singing along.
Ilana blushed, her body swaying to the rhythm and her heart full of happiness. He’s wonderful. He’s absolutely wonderful, she thought, and sang along.
Being with Macy, she had never felt so complete.
• • •
Macy finished singing and the crowd cheered him on.
Usually, he’d keep playing for the adulation, but now he wanted to get back to Ilana. Though they’d just met, he couldn’t stand being away from her.
The crowd continued to clap and whistle, encouraging Macy to return for one more song.
He stood at the edge of the stage and gazed through the hot, blinding spotlights at Ilana.
She’s so true, Macy thought. So real and honest.
The crowd began stamping their feet in unison, demanding another song.
Smiling, Ilana returned Macy’s gaze.
She’s caring and sensitive. She’s kind. And God, she is so beautiful — in every way. Macy turned to face the crowd, and in an exaggerated pose, he blew them all a huge kiss. He had to get back to Ilana. He needed her. He wanted to be with her. Always.
“That was beautiful, Macy!” Ilana said as he sat down next to her.
“Yeah, well you have to say that. I dedicated it to you!” He laughed and threw some peanuts from the table into his mouth.
“No. I don’t have to. I could have said it was miserable, you play terribly and — ”
“Okay! I’ll take the compliment!” Had he known her forever?
“But I bet you play that song for all the girls you date.”
Macy blushed. “Well, maybe I do. But I don’t change the name.”
Ilana rotated the straw in her drink and laughed. “Caught you. I knew you’d played that before.”
Macy leaned back in his wooden chair. “Yeah, but I’ll never play it again — with any other name but yours, that is.” He laughed with her and briefly caught her gaze as they sipped their drinks. Where had she been all his life? He had never felt so complete before. So natural and uncomplicatedly happy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On Monday morning, Rachel awoke to the shrill ringing of her telephone.
“It’s me,” said the brusque voice on the other end.
“Daniel?” After Saturday night’s fiasco, she was surprised that he would call her again.
“I wanted to apologize. I acted like a jerk.”
Was this the same guy from Saturday night?
“We need to talk. I’ll be by in an hour.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I’m telling you. I’ve got a lot of work coming up this week. The only time I can see you is now.”
“Daniel, I don’t think so — ”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” he interrupted.
“Our date didn’t go well at all!” Rachel had told her father all about it, but she didn’t dare mention the date to her mother. Nor did she say anything about Jacob posing for her painting. What was the point of telling them?
“I said I was sorry. Could you have the decency to let me explain in person?”
“What do you need to explain? That you don’t like to laugh?” “Stiff,” her father had called Daniel. It seemed like the appropriate word choice.
Daniel paused. “I like to laugh — when a joke is funny. But that’s beside the point.”
Rachel sighed. “Daniel, I don’t know. I have to get to school. I have to turn in a project.”
“So I’ll drive you. I’m coming in from the Island. Wait for me.”
The phone went dead.
Rachel washed up, solemnly said her morning prayers, and dressed, thinking about a future with Daniel. He was acting bossy, and she didn’t like that. Jacob Zohar would never treat her that way … No, banish that thought. Concentrate on Daniel. If she wanted a sharp, tough husband — someone to fight her battles, to take care of her — she couldn’t expect him to be sweet. Besides, Daniel did want to apologize for that awful date, and maybe something she’d said or did had set him off. Maybe they could work it out. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could learn how to deal with his moods. Her father always said that all relationships require work. And after all, Daniel was a catch.
Exactly an hour after she’d hung up the phone, the doorbell rang.
“Are you ready?” Daniel stood at the door.
“Guess so. As ready as ever.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail. She wore no makeup, a red mock turtleneck sweater, and a straight denim skirt.
“A new look?” Daniel nodded at her outfit as they walked to his Porsche.
After Saturday night, like you deserve me primping for you? she wanted to say. Instead she responded, “I dress casually for school, Daniel.”
“I could wait for you to change.”
“I don’t want to change.”
“You look a little pale. I don’t mind waiting for you to fix your makeup.”
“I’m happy the way I am.”
“Sure, sure.” Daniel held the car door open for her.
“You wanted to talk to me?” Rachel shut the car door as she got in.
“Look, I was in a bad mood the other night. Don’t take it personally. I’ve been under a lot of stress at work, and then seeing Frisch … We’re close buddies, but we have a history. He thought you were cute, by the way.”
Rachel blushed.
“He said, ‘Daniel, if you don’t go for her, I will.’”
Rachel’s cheeks turned the color of her sweater. “So you wanted to see me again because your friend liked me?”
Daniel blanched. “No, no. Nothing like that. Nothing like that at all.”
“Daniel, what are you telling me?”
“I’m telling you that while we see some things differently, I believe this relationship has potential.”
Lawyers! “Why?”
Daniel sighed. “Our backgrounds are compatible and we look good together.”
Rachel looked out the car window.
Daniel spoke quietly. “You are beautiful, Rachel. I like having you by my side.”
Like a fashion accessory to go with the Porsche? Rachel almost said, but she stopped herself. “You want to date me because you think I’m beau
tiful?”
Daniel shrugged. “You have a better reason?”
Rachel sighed.
“So I’m saying I want to get to know you. Look, I have to make a lot of decisions all the time. And I pride myself on being able to make logical, detached decisions. But since I met you, nothing has been logical. Nothing. Not one thing. I think maybe you are my basherte. I need to get to know you better, Rachel.”
“I don’t know how I feel,” Rachel said finally.
“Tell me you’ll consider me seriously,” Daniel said as he dropped her off at school. “Because I want to take this relationship to the next level.”
• • •
Leah fingered the condom in her hand and wondered what she was going to do with it. She’d been on her way to the cafeteria in the Student Center when a perky volunteer from the “Safe Sex and Information Club” pressed the condom into her hand.
“You can never be too safe,” the young woman said cheerfully as she continued walking along the campus handing out more condoms.
Leah saw a classmate, Linda, walking toward her and quickly stuffed the unwanted gift in her pocket. How would she explain what an Orthodox virgin was doing with a condom? The volunteer pushed it in my hand! Sure, sure, Leah.
But wait. She was going to be a doctor. Surely she shouldn’t be embarrassed by something like this. Still, she looked for a garbage can to throw it into. But what if somebody saw her throw it in? Then they’d wonder what she was doing with it in the first place.
Linda was heading toward the cafeteria. Leah knew Linda had a boyfriend and wasn’t religious. Should she offer Linda the condom? No, that would be bizarre. Beyond bizarre. She’d just keep it in her pocket for now until she figured out how to dispose of it. But what if she forgot it was in her pocket and her mother did her laundry and found it? She would probably make her drop out of college. Or what if it stuck out of her pocket and Jacob noticed it in class? She didn’t want to think about that.
