Rachel sat down in her chair, deciding to forego the coffee which would only make her mouth drier than it already was. Anyway, no one should go on one date with coffee breath, let alone twenty. As for the food, well, there was no way she wanted anyone seeing her eat. And then there was the chance that she might stain her top, as if attending this event wasn’t humiliating enough.
She looked down at her scorecard. Her name was preprinted on a label at the top. Rachel, Participant number 27 F.
“Rachel? Rachel Stern?”
Rachel froze, every muscle in her body becoming immediately rigid.
“Rachel? That is you!”
Rachel looked up to see Aviva Zimmerman, the prettiest girl who ever went to the synagogue’s Sunday school. She pasted a half smile onto her face. “Oh hi, Aviva.”
“I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here,” Aviva blurted out, rolling her eyes.
“Not really.” Although Rachel vaguely remembered she had heard a couple of years ago through the grapevine (okay, Pearl had told her) that Aviva had gotten married to some wealthy stockbroker.
Aviva went on as though Rachel had solicited an answer. “Well Sid and I are on a trial separation right now and I just wanted to see what else was out there.”
“Um, okay.” Rachel shrugged, not sure why Aviva felt she needed validation from her.
“So I guess you never found anyone, huh?”
Seriously? “Not yet.”
“Well good luck, I’m sure someone will pick you.”
It all came fleeting back to Rachel just why she had hated Aviva. “Yeah you too.” You bitch.
She watched Aviva bounce away, thankfully to take up residence at her own table at the other side of the hall.
Why on earth did I agree to come to this?
Glancing at her watch, her heart began to skip when she realized she was only seven minutes away from date number one.
* * *
By the time Rachel looked down at her full scorecard at the end of the night, she couldn’t imagine being more drained even if it was the Friday of March break and she was the only one working the children’s desk in the library. She had never had so many questions, (even though many of them were the same questions) fired at her in such a short period of time. And, she was expected to be on and ask her own questions. She wasn’t just a drooling and hopeful dog in the window; she was making selections of her own. Darwin would be weeping, she was sure, if he had been witness to the pathetic dating ritual that had surfaced in the social hall of the Beth Tikvah Synagogue.
Bonnie was at the microphone thanking everyone for participating and reminding the participants that they would be able to see their results on the website by Tuesday at noon and to make sure they dropped their score cards off in the box in the foyer.
Rachel’s score card looked neat and tidy. It was filled with mostly NOs and two YES answers: only two men that she thought she could stand being with for more than another four minutes had showed any real interest in her.
Rachel’s mental scorecard looked very different:
YES: Sam, (not the Rabbi). Seemed nice, had really deep blue eyes, even though he stared a little too much (not just at cleavage). Said he had never had a big girlfriend, but don’t think he meant it in a mean way. Not sure what he does for a living, but wore a good suit that didn’t look like just a wedding/funeral suit.
NO: Finn (what kind of name is Finn?) Seemed nice but a little insecure. Kept looking down and apologizing for being nervous. Turn off. He was chubby even though he had a nice face (ugh, how terrible am I?). He cracked a few pretty funny jokes, and we talked about our favorite books for most of the time, but there was definitely no spark.
NO: Rabbi, can’t seem to call him Sam. The rabbi was certainly out of his element. Shook my hand, his was wet and clammy, gross. We talked about my mother, but it was okay; I was happy for a topic to fill the four minutes until it was over.
NO: Jacob, the guy from the door. Turns out he is a doctor that drove a Mercedes and made sure everyone knew it. He had the worst attitude I’ve ever encountered on a guy who smelled that good. Too bad, as my mother would have surely plotzed from joy. (I definitely won’t tell her about that one).
NO: Dave number one, actually called himself Daveed, as in the Hebrew pronunciation of his name. Sounded religious, ‘nuff said.
NO: Jeremy. This guy was way too much like my brother, really immature and kept making self-deprecating jokes. I am not into self-deprecating humor unless it is delivered by me, about me. Also, bit his nails right down to the quick. YUCK!
YES: Dave number two. Sandy brown hair, said he is an accountant (he volunteered the information, I didn’t ask). Said he is into movies. Kept looking at my cleavage, but that was after the break when I’d undone the top two buttons on my blouse, so it was to be expected.
NO: Shmuel. Yes, really: Shmuel. Maybe it’s shallow, but I could never introduce this guy to anyone without laughing. The personality didn’t seem much better than the name, anyway.
NO: Zachary. This guy was so rude and mean I almost cried just sitting there. He was obviously into another girl and kept asking me if I thought she’d be into him. It was like he thought I was his sister or something. I never thought guys like this really existed. Apparently they do. Oh, but he was kind enough to let me know that he wouldn’t be picking me on his scorecard. Thanks for the heads up, Prince Charming.
The rest were a blur of sweaty palms and awkward small talk. Some of the people stayed around at the end and mingled some more, finishing off the rest of the surely lukewarm coffee and rapidly drying-up pastries. Rachel was exhausted and still feeling awkward so she put on her coat and made her way out to the lobby to drop her scorecard in the box.
“Hey, are you leaving already?” a voice behind her said.
Rachel turned. It was Finn. “Yeah, I’m really tired and I’ve gotta work in the morning.”
“Yeah,” Finn looked at his shoes. “Well, it was really nice meeting you, Rachel.” He smiled. “I hope I’ll see you again.”
Oh my God. This guy picked me. Rachel tucked her scorecard discreetly behind her back so Finn wouldn’t be able to see the big NO next to his name. What should she say? Should she tell him now she didn’t pick him or just let him find out on the internet once the Blissfully Marrieds tallied up the scores? This is so awkward, Rachel thought.
“It was nice meeting you too.” She smiled at him, hoping her smile would communicate no sexual attraction whatsoever, like the kind you got from your dentist right before he’s going to put a drill in your mouth. “Well, good night.”
He looked like he was going to say more, but thought better of it and nodded.
She turned before he had a chance to change his mind again. She walked up to the reception table, now empty except for the box where participants were to deposit their scorecards.
Should she change her card to include him in her YES column? He wasn’t terrible. Sure he had a weight problem, but she was no Kate Moss. Maybe he figured that she was the only one there in his league. Or maybe he was like all the other men from her past: just pretending to like her to get her into bed. Did it matter? Fighting the urge to turn around to see if he was still standing there, she glanced at her card. Two YES votes. Two men out of over twenty. Those were not great odds. She had to bank on them choosing her also, which reduced her chances significantly. Maybe she should have said yes to everyone just to cover her bases.
She rubbed the card with her thumb. Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her. Not daring to turn and see who it was, she quickly dropped the card in the slot. Stepping away from the table, she glanced back to see Jacob, the arrogant Mercedes-driving doctor.
Rachel quickly turned away, avoiding awkward eye contact, and headed for the door.
Chapter 3
God, I wish I had my own place, Rachel thought as she pulled up into the driveway of her parents’ house.
It was no surprise that Pearl was waiting up at the kitc
hen table, her steaming mug of hot water and lemon tucked neatly in her palm when Rachel arrived home. What was shocking was that her father was there also, a goofy look on his face; he wanted to know how it went but didn’t look like he was in for any of the gory details.
Rachel grabbed the leftover cheesecake out of the fridge and placed it on the table while she got plates and forks for herself and her parents. She cut three slices giving herself the biggest one; after an evening like that, she deserved some extra comfort in the form of turtle swirl cheesecake.
Once she was done handing out the slices, she took her seat and dug in.
“So?” Pearl raised her eyebrows, waiting.
“That sucked.” Rachel looked up from her cake and glared at her mother. It wasn’t totally true, it was still better than sitting at home watching Schindler’s List or Yentl (again—her mother had a thing for Mandy Patinkin) with her parents. She just thought it was necessary to put a negative spin on the evening so her parents wouldn’t get it in their heads to sign her up for another one of these events without her consent.
“Oh, Rachel.” Pearl shook her head, “How was the rabbi? Was he one of your speed daters?”
Rachel snorted. “Yeah, he talked about you the whole time.” She turned to her father, “Dad I think you might have some competition there.”
Pearl twittered. Rachel and Harry both stared at her, incredulous.
“He’s a nice boy, you could do worse!” Pearl shifted the focus from herself.
“Oh believe me, mother, you’ve got that right. I learned tonight I could do worse. A lot worse.” Rachel sighed as she finished the last bite of cheesecake. She got up and stacked her plate and fork in the sink. “Oh well, I’m off to bed. G’night.”
“Wait Rachel. You didn’t say if you met anyone nice?” Pearl obviously hadn’t gotten the hint that Rachel was done talking about her evening.
Rachel sighed, reluctant to rehash the evening. She felt a brief summary was in order. “There were a couple of decent guys, but you have to leave a card to say you picked them, and then the organizers tally it up. If someone you picked also picked you, then you get their e-mail or phone number. I won’t know until tomorrow or Tuesday.”
“Oh, so no one asked you out?” Pearl seemed to be missing the concept.
“No, not yet, Ma.”
“Maybe if you had more of a positive attitude,” Pearl clucked.
Rachel began her count to ten.
“Pearl, leave her alone.” Harry spoke for the first time. The women both looked at him. He stared directly at Pearl. “Rachel isn’t the one that wanted to sign up for this. You made her go, you made me pay for it, and she went. How can you ask for more than that?”
Rachel wanted to cheer. Her dad was a man of few words, but leave it to him to stick up for her. She looked at him and smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”
He nodded. “Go to bed, I’ll handle your mother.” He winked at Rachel.
Wide-eyed, Pearl had yet to speak. It wasn’t often that she had nothing to say, but Rachel took advantage of the rare occasion and slipped out of the kitchen.
She closed the door behind her and threw her purse onto her chair.
“What a disaster,” she said aloud.
She looked at herself in the big mirrored closet door. “Would I pick me?”
No, of course not. She thought of Finn, the chubby guy who had seemed interested in her. Sure, because she was in his league. But was that the only way she would ever get a guy? Because they were both big? What about her personality? What about her intelligence? Was she destined to end up with a guy who wasn’t into looks because he didn’t have them himself?
Was she any better?
Rachel realized she had been a total hypocrite when she had turned Finn down. Who was she to turn down someone based on his looks? He probably would have been a nice person if she’d given him a chance.
Rachel fought tears as she slipped her nightgown over her head and slid in between the sheets. As an afterthought, she listened to her voicemail.
“Rach, I’m SO sorry I didn’t call you today. Brian took me out yesterday and we went to see the show, which was fabulous by the way, and then he took me to dinner and back to his place for the night. I’ll call you later, but call me when you get in, okay?”
Rachel erased the voicemail, sighing and allowing the thick green coat of envy to envelop her. She would never say anything out loud, but she hated that Sheri could always get guys and this one especially. This one might have been at speed dating if Sheri hadn’t snatched him up first. And what did Sheri need with a Jewish guy anyway? It’s not like she would give up Christmas and convert. Rachel stared at the ceiling, allowing her mind to wander.
Revised Tally Sheet:
YES: Brian. Cute, Wall Street type who owns a dog (very trustworthy) and his own home. Laughs and tells jokes constantly. Would charm the pants off my mother and father. Oh, and probably hates fat girls.
Her stomach lurched. Okay, so much for Brian, maybe he wasn’t really meant for her. She shook off the self-pity and picked up the phone, hitting speed dial button one.
“Hey,” she said with as much enthusiasm as a McDonald’s clerk asking if you want fries with your Quarter Pounder.
“Rach. How’d it go?” Sheri sounded like she’d been sleeping and Rachel heard rustling.
“It was okay. Not something I’d want to do regularly, but I guess it was better than twenty whole blind dates.”
“Any potentials?” Sheri sounded far off, like she was holding the phone away from her face.
“Well, I said yes to two guys. One was an accountant, I don’t know what the other guy did, but he was pretty cute, I guess.”
“That’s cool, Rach. But I’ve gotta run…” Her voice got far away again. “Hold on a second, Brian.” More rustling and then, “I’ll be right back, hon,” Sheri purred.
Rachel felt her throat get tight and couldn’t wait to get off the phone. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait, Rach, I just wanted to ask you. Brian has this friend who we think would like to meet you.”
Rachel blinked at her reflection in the mirror. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Aw, c’mon, we could double. Hold on Brian, just… oh, stop that!” Sheri giggled.
Rachel, not normally predisposed to violence had a sudden urge to throw the phone at the wall. “I’ll pass.”
“Hold on, Rach,” Sheri said. The rustling got louder and then Rachel could hear movement. “Okay, sorry. Anyway, forget about the speed dating thing. Seriously, I really want you to meet this guy. He works in Brian’s office and I’ve met him, he’s nice.”
“How does he feel about fat girls?” Rachel spat, surprising even herself.
“What?” Sheri sounded genuinely shocked.
“I’m not your charity case, Sheri.” She was crying, the tears dripping down the sides of her face into her pillow.
“Oh my God, Rachel, I didn’t mean that. I have never thought of you that way. You’re my best friend.” She paused, sounding like she was fighting tears herself. “Jesus, Rach, if it came out sounding that way, I’m sorry, but I never, ever meant it like that. I just want you to be happy and find someone.”
Racked with full out sobs, Rachel began to have trouble breathing. “How…am I ever going to find…someone? I’m huge and fat and ugly.” She punctuated her point with a painful hiccup.
“Don’t say that, Rachel. Please…” Sheri sobbed.
Suddenly racked with guilt over making her best friend cry, Rachel sniffed. “Well, it’s true.”
“Listen. What time are you working tomorrow?” Sheri asked.
“I’m in at ten.” Rachel reached for a Kleenex.
“Okay, why don’t you come over at eight thirty and we’ll hash this out. We’ll have a strategy meeting. Let’s really do this, Rachel. I don’t want you beating yourself up anymore.”
Rachel sniffled into the Kleenex.
“Rach?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re gonna do this okay? I’m serious, come over in the morning and we’ll get a game plan.”
“Okay.” Rachel nodded even though Sheri couldn’t see her. “I’ll bring coffee.”
“You okay?” Sheri asked.
“I will be.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
Rachel hung up the phone and got out of bed. She turned on the light and looked in the mirror again. She looked at herself, trying to see what she really looked like. She didn’t just want to see what she normally saw when she put on make-up; she wanted to see what strangers saw when they looked at her, what the men at speed dating saw.
She saw fat, and she saw sad. She faked a smile, like the smile she had pasted on her face every four minutes when a new man had sat down across from her. It wasn’t very convincing. To get rid of the sad, she would have to get rid of the fat. Taking a deep breath, she looked at herself again and put on her bravest, strongest, most determined face. To get rid of the fat, she had to be strong. Really strong. She had lost many a fight to a small but feisty fifty-two gram opponent. Made of flour, eggs, and shortening, known as the Krispy Kreme original glazed donut, it was one of her worst enemies (not that she ever ate just one). But she had to be stronger than a donut, stronger than the bacon and eggs, stronger even than nachos and chicken wings.
Love for Scale Page 2
