Naomi arched her neck. “I hope you like it black, I ran out of milk this morning.”
Chapter 14
Naomi
Naomi woke first and ran her fingers through his curls, which stuck to his head. The result of sweat and sleep. Inside, she chuckled. All the times they made love when they were young, not once was it ever in a bed big enough to move around. She tried not to compare the experience with Jake--it was hard not to with Aaron sprawled across his former side of the bed. She stretched like a cat after a good nap, and then an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. She loved his lips.
The phone rang at seven-thirty, Naomi wanted to ignore it, but feared it was Ezra needing a ride. But when she looked at the phone screen, Becky’s name flashed up at her.
Naomi groaned, flopped onto her back, and threw her forearm over her eyes.
“Answer it, I’m not going anywhere,” he said and began roaming around her stomach with his fingertips.
She didn’t get a hello out of her mouth. Becky’s words exploded into her ear. “You didn’t answer the phone last night.”
“It never rang,” Naomi shot back.
“I called your house ten times and you didn’t pick up and neither did Ezra,” Becky said.
“I was out and so was he.”
“Bullshit, you never go anywhere. You were ignoring me,” Becky said.
“If I was ignoring you, why would I pick-up at this awful hour of the morning?”
“Noah called me last night. That bitch, I can’t believe her. She’s trying to buy an invitation to the wedding. And, even worse, she’s trying to buy my son.” Becky shouted the words into Naomi’s ear. “I hate that woman.”
“Stop it! You sound like a bratty child.”
“Do you want to know what she did? Do you? She bought Noah and Maria a honeymoon trip to Israel! The chutzpah--and she told him that she didn’t receive an invitation to the wedding. What a desperate ploy to get invited.”
“Wait a minute--” Naomi tried to interject.
“Noah called me last night mad as hell--at me! As if I caused this mess. And get this, today, Noah and Maria are going to that conniving bitch’s house to hand deliver an invitation. They want to thank Joe and Miriam for the trip.” Becky said the last words in a snotty stuck-up sounding voice. “I want to spit on that woman,”
Naomi could hear Becky’s heavy breathing through the phone and immediately thought of Becky’s blood pressure. She rolled onto her side and leaned on her elbow. “No, Becky--you’ve got everything wrong. Miriam bought the honeymoon hoping that Maria will fall in love with the country and Judaism. She hopes it will make her want to convert. Miriam thinks if Maria converts, you’ll be happy.”
“That’s stupid, whether Maria converts or not doesn’t change the fact that her father seduced my mother into a disgusting, humiliating affair that killed her.”
“That’s not true,” Naomi replied.
“Yes, it is.” Becky hung up.
Maybe it was the comfort of Aaron’s arms. Or that she felt protected lying next to him. But, most likely, her frustration with the situation became overwhelming. Naomi wept into Aaron’s shoulder.
“Escape from this, call in sick. Come to New York with me for a few days.”
Her throat constricted. Go to New York with him? What will I tell Ezra? And I can’t lie to my boss.
“I plan on keeping the New York apartment even if I accept the Pitt position. I want you to get used to the place. It will be our second home.”
Naomi’s heart began to pound. Second home? What was he saying? She lived alone with her son in Mt. Lebanon. She had one son in college. She was divorced--alone.
He sat up, his face radiating excitement, waiting for her answer. She excused herself and rushed to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, alone in the vacuous marble tiled room, she panicked and realized that the sex was a huge mistake. This was not what was supposed to happen--friends, old friends. That’s all. She had to tell him no.
Aaron bought her story of a huge deadline at work. He was disappointed, but insisted they would find a better time. She kissed him goodbye just minutes before the Ezra pick-me-up text arrived. She scurried around the house, making sure there was no evidence left of the previous night’s escapade. Ezra would die thinking his middle-aged mother had sex. She imagined him plugging his ears and shouting “gross.” Maybe he was right. She was too old for this, romance was for young people.
After picking Ezra up from his friend’s house, Naomi sat alone at her kitchen table, drinking coffee, watching more white flakes build up on her deck. Would it ever stop? The phone rang. She looked at the screen--her mother. She hit the silent button and let it go to voicemail. She wasn’t in the mood for her mother.
Why did she agree to go out with him? she asked herself over and over. Catch-up, reminisce about some fun times, but that was it. Okay, they had sex--just like the old times. That’s all. Like the kids say, friends with benefits. She walked to the counter, poured more coffee into the cup, and leaned against the black granite countertop. Two houses implied long term. A trip to Israel implied long term. He didn’t mean it. Of course, he didn’t. She shook her head. It was just a reaction to his divorce combined with a sentimental memory of childhood.
The coffee tasted bitter. She dumped into the sink. Her to-do list for the day was a mile long, but she sat back down at the table, thinking about her younger self. The Naomi Aaron remembered went away a long time ago.
She dropped her head down onto her crossed arms. His interest in worn out, boring her would last for a few months before his eyes zeroed in on all the young women strolling around the campus. She imagined a line of them with big eyes and perky boobs, fawning over him and his books. What man wouldn’t choose a flower over an old cactus? This relationship couldn’t go any further. If he called again, she would be unavailable.
She picked up her head and straightened her back. Unavailable, that’s what she would be. It would be better for both of them. She rose from the chair, walked over to the bottom of the stairs, and pulled an Ezra move.
“Hey, Ezra,” she yelled up the steps. “Let’s go to the movies this afternoon. You pick.”
She threw a load of whites in the washer and vacuumed the upstairs bedrooms. Then they drove to the theater at the South Hills Village. He chose an awful sci-fi horror fiasco, but the film did its job. She forgot all about Aaron, Becky, and Miriam.
“Let’s get something to eat before we go home. I don’t feel like cooking,” she said, springing for a rare dinner in a restaurant.
She adored watching Ezra attack his food--such gusto, not one concern over fat or calories, just the pure joy of the smell, taste, and the texture in his mouth.
“I like Aaron. He’s a nice guy. You knew him in high school?”
Naomi smiled. “Yes, we’re very old friends. I met him when I was in eleventh grade.”
“Was he your boyfriend?” Ezra asked, while slamming the palm of his hand against the bottom of the Heinz ketchup bottle.
“Yes, he was my boyfriend.”
“Then you met dad,” he said.
“That’s right,” she replied, wondering where this topic was leading.
“Dad’s been gone a long time and next year, both Josh and I will be in college.” He bit into a French fry.
She watched him chew. His stomach was bottomless.
He swallowed the French fry and popped another into his mouth. “Mom, maybe it’s time for you to find a boyfriend.”
She looked at his sweet face. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Then she shoveled a forkful of salad into her mouth. If it was only that simple.
***
Miriam
Miriam’s doorbell rang at precisely three o’clock on Sunday afternoon. She glanced through the lead glass window to see exactly what she expected--two pink cheeked young people bundled in parkas and snow boots.
She answered the door, letting out her signature happy squeal, and
wrapped her arms around Noah’s insulated body.
“Hi, Aunt Miriam,” Noah said. He planted a cold kiss on her cheek before pulling off his gloves. Maria stood at his side, smiling.
Miriam’s husband, Joe, walked into the foyer and greeted the couple. “Noah, it’s been weeks. You haven’t been in shul.”
“I know, Uncle Joe,” Noah said, reaching out to hug him. “But my professors this semester seem to be competing to see who can dump the most homework on us. I promise to show up next week.”
Miriam hushed Joe, reminding him that Noah and Maria needed to warm-up. She led them to the family room where the lit fireplace wiped away all their thoughts of snow.
Joe entered the room a few moments later holding an expensive bottle of wine in one hand and four glasses in the other. “Time for a toast.”
They settled into their seats. Noah and Maria sat side by side, holding hands on the sofa. Joe relaxed in the recliner. His wine glass rested on the left side of a small table.
Miriam, sitting on the edge of a bentwood rocker, set her wine on the left side of the table. The smile on her face reflected the excitement she felt bubbling from her heart to her feet.
The foursome chatted about school and Maria’s new job as a high school English teacher. Noah asked about their twin daughters, Jill and Leah, and their son, Nathan. But, it didn’t take long for Miriam to switch the conversation to the wedding. Maria reached into her bag and pulled out a large envelope with Miriam’s name embossed on the front.
“Mrs. Weiss, please--” Maria said.
“No, no, sweetheart,” Miriam interrupted. “Call me Aunt Miriam like Noah does.”
Maria nodded. “Aunt Miriam, Noah and I are so embarrassed and sorry about this situation. We couldn’t image standing under the chupah without you being there.”
Wow. They’re going to have a wedding canopy, and Maria even pronounced the word right. She decided to push a little. “This isn’t a Jewish wedding. You don’t need a canopy. What made you two decide to have a chupah?”
Noah looked at Maria, who shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said a moment later. “You can tell her.”
“Maria has been studying Judaism with a rabbi in Squirrel Hill. We haven’t told anyone because she hasn’t made a final decision. We thought it would be best to keep it to ourselves. That way, if she decides not to go through with it, my mom won’t be devastated. And, if she chooses to convert, it will be a wonderful surprise.”
Miriam clapped her hands together. “Then an Israel honeymoon is perfect. Maria, Jerusalem will make you fall in love with Israel and Judaism.”
“If it were only that simple,” Maria said.
Miriam popped off the chair and clapped her hands. “It is! Just wait and see.”
“No, it’s not,” Joe said. “She’s right. It’s anything but simple. It’s an enormous decision. Look at our history. If she converts, her children will be Jewish and at risk when the next madman comes into power.”
Miriam turned her back to Noah and Maria and shot Joe a shut-up look.
“No, Miriam, I’m not going to be quiet.” Joe shook his head at his wife before turning to face Maria. “In the long run, you have to live with yourself and your decision. If you convert, don’t do it for Noah, Becky, or my wife--only for you. Otherwise, you’ll end up resenting all of them. Study, learn, and see if the religion calls to you. If your heart draws you to the faith--convert. If you don’t feel the attraction, remain Christian. You don’t want to go to bed every night of your life with a lie sitting on your heart.”
Miriam reached over and lightly smacked Joe’s head.
Joe threw up his hands. “I’m finished. I’ll leave this situation to the rabbis.”
The sun began to set, signaling it was time for Noah and Maria to leave. The young couple pulled on their boots and parkas. “When you two come home from Israel, you’ll come here for dinner, tell us all about the trip, and bring tons of pictures,” Miriam said, while giving Noah a final squeeze.
She watched as they shuffled down the snowy path. The news caused her heart to pump joy. Everything was falling into place. The kids would have a great honeymoon, Maria would convert, and Becky would be happy again. Miriam waved one last time before they drove away.
Chapter 15
Naomi
Naomi pushed the shopping cart through the produce department of the Giant Eagle supermarket. Winter fruit and vegetables packed the refrigerated display case. She missed the peaches and watermelon of the summer.
While squeezing a head of iceberg lettuce, she heard a familiar voice, turned, and saw Esther, standing in front of a pile of grapefruit, complaining to a clueless-looking high school kid who had the misfortune of being assigned to replenish the display.
Naomi snuck up behind her, tossed her arm over Esther’s shoulders, which felt like a pillow due to the regulation Siberian gulag puffy parka she insisted on wearing between Thanksgiving and Passover. Esther quickly turned, and her eyes lit with recognition.
Naomi chuckled. “Give the boy a break. He didn’t grow them. He just stocks them.”
“I know, but they are such iksa grapefruit.” Esther rolled one in her hand and crinkled her nose. “I don’t know why the US government doesn’t allow people to bring in fruit from overseas. My daughter could mail us a case of real grapefruit--Israeli grapefruit.”
“I’ll email my congressman this evening,” Naomi replied.
“So update me on Aaron. Is he coming to the wedding?” she asked.
“I didn’t invite him. We were discussing grapefruit.”
Esther put down the grapefruit. “What do you mean? You must invite him. He’s perfect for you and will look so handsome in a tuxedo.”
Naomi smiled at the image. He would look elegant in a tux. She shook her head. “What’s wrong with this grapefruit?” She stuck it under Esther’s nose.
“Stop it. That subject is over. The new subject is that sexy author.”
“I don’t think inviting him to the wedding is a good idea.”
“Not a good idea? What are you talking about? He’s falling in love with you again. I can tell by the way he looks at you.”
“No.” Naomi shook her head again. “He’s not. Please, I don’t want to talk about him right now.”
“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about him.”
“Why?”
“He needs a wife and you need a husband. When you stand next to him--you match. Some couples clash--you know like spots and stripes. But, you two--match.”
Naomi looked at her friend, lacking any logical way to argue Esther’s statement.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Becky sent him his own invitation. He’ll be there whether you like it or not. She agrees with me. You match.” Esther picked up an orange. “These pathetic little balls are worse than the grapefruit. I might as well just buy that mushy fruit in a can.”
Sometimes the Jewish community in Pittsburgh felt downright incestuous. Everyone knew everyone else, and therefore, had a right to an opinion. “Why were you and Becky discussing me and Aaron?”
“Look at these pathetic little baseballs they’re trying to pass off as pomelos.” Esther held up two of greenish-yellow pomelo impersonators. “Bowling balls. Pomelos should be the size of bowling balls.”
“Esther, answer the question.”
“Why wouldn’t we discuss you and Aaron? You are the most exciting thing happening in this town. Besides, it spares me from listening to her complain about Miriam.”
Naomi didn’t respond. Esther climbed back on her fruit bandwagon as they walked into the next aisle. Naomi only half listened, wishing she had nothing more to worry about than fruit quality. Instead, she replayed Esther’s words about Aaron needing a wife in her head. Even if she was right, and he did need a wife, why would he ever pick her? I have nothing to offer him except a bitter attitude, an empty bank account, and a house that’s falling apart.
“You need to go to Isra
el to understand what I’m talking about.” Esther pulled a box of crackers off the shelf and began turning it in her hand. “If it looks good, it doesn’t have a kosher symbol. And why are there so many hechshers in this country? How many different symbols do we have to remember? Kosher is kosher.”
Naomi smiled and nodded.
They continued trekking down the aisles. Esther chattered on about the lack of kosher products and the variety of hechshers. “You and Aaron should go to Israel on your honeymoon. Then you’ll know what I’m talking about--delicious kosher food and ice cream.”
“Stop it, please.”
Esther stopped her cart and stuck out her hip. “No. I’m right. You’re wrong. Aaron is your bashert. You just got sidetracked by a pretty face when you were in college.” Esther chuckled. “That’s funny. Prettier than Aaron is damn hard to find.”
Wife? Aaron’s wife--impossible. She failed at being Jake’s wife. A man like Aaron needed a wife with brains, class, and...well, everything else she lacked.
They pushed their carts to the checkout. Esther chose the faster moving line. Naomi leaned against her cart as Esther waved goodbye. Finally, it was her turn and the slow-moving checkout girl decided to put a new roll of paper into the cash register. Naomi pushed the loaded shopping cart across the slippery parking lot. Between dumping bags into the trunk, she pulled out her phone and texted Ezra. I’m five minutes away from home. Put on your shoes. I need help unloading groceries.
Ezra leaned against the wall of the garage, outfitted in sweatpants and boots--of course, no coat. Coats, she recently learned, were not cool. He loaded bags up his arms and carried them up to the kitchen. She followed behind, holding the bags containing eggs and bread.
“Mom, if it doesn’t snow, can I borrow the car on Wednesday?”
The Kiddush Ladies Page 15
