Dating Kosher (14 page)

It was too late to call or text my dad; any attempt at reconciliation would have been negated by me waking him up. So instead, I decided to get up early in the morning and give him a call right around the time I knew he’d be getting on his treadmill to watch his first dose of morning news on CNN.

I still had to call Bev, knowing that she’d be waiting up for the call. Picking up the phone, I muted the TV and dialed her number, picking at my memory for the most relevant details of the evening.

Chapter 18

Johnny Depp and his pirate ship faded into the distance as the insistent buzzing of the alarm invaded my sensitive, early morning ears. I banged on the clock radio and reached for my phone, pulling it toward my face so I could dial my father.

“Hi Dad,” I said into the phone when he answered, trying to sound more awake than I was.

By the time I had gotten off the phone with Bev, regaling her with every detail of my date with Nate, it had been almost two. Dad’s speed walk on the treadmill began promptly every Sunday morning at eight, so I had set my alarm.

“Hello, Shoshanna.” He sounded very formal.

I knew what that tone meant: it was time to do some fancy-pants ass-kissing. I sat up in bed to make sure I sounded like I was alert and taking the conversation very seriously.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier in the week, Dad. But I’ve had a chance to think about what you said last Sunday.”

“And?”

“You were totally right.”

I was met with silence on the other end. Shock, maybe? I continued. “You were dead on, and you know what? I can understand where you’re coming from. I’m just like Mom.” There, I admitted it.

“Well…”

I interrupted. “No, I’m serious. I
know
I’m just like Mom and I can see why it drove you crazy. I’m telling you now that I’m really trying to make a change.”

There was a long silence on the line before he said, “I’m very proud of you, honey. You know, you are very much like your mother in many ways, including a lot of the
good
ones. I still love your mother and see her in you. But I’m very happy that you’re working toward…maturing a little.”

“Thanks, Dad.” This was going better than I had expected.

“And I’m sorry that I stormed out on you, that wasn’t fair.”

“Nah, you were right to, I was being a snotty brat.”

He snorted but didn’t argue. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Sure can, but maybe I can get some more sleep first.” I yawned.

“Out late last night?” The whiz of the treadmill started up in the background.

“Yeah, I had a date.”

“With the fellow you’re bringing to the wedding?”

Clearly, Susan had blabbed. It didn’t matter, they’d be meeting Nate soon enough.

“Yeah, his name’s Nate.”

“All right. Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll see you at the restaurant at noon.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

With a lighter conscience, I hung up the phone and snuggled back under the covers, thinking about my dad. He was a decent and fair guy, even though he hadn’t been around much when I was growing up. He did the best he knew how, which meant working as much as he could to make sure Mom and I always had everything we wanted. And when it came to what Tippy Rosenblatt wanted, that was a tall order. He did good by me, although I did miss having him around when I was a kid. But we were making up for it now, and I did look forward to our Sunday morning ‘dates.’

I closed my eyes and was asleep within seconds.

* * *

“I know it might be redundant, but I want to apologize for last weekend again. Sticking you with the bill was unfair.” Dad shook his head, looking down at his coffee, stirring it absently.

“It’s okay, Dad. Anyway, I
didn’t
pay the bill, I pulled a dine and dash.”

He looked up at me, eyes wide.

“I’m kidding!”

He pulled a smile. “And I wanted to also thank you for how great you’ve been with Susan. She’s having a really rough time with her daughter.”

I sipped at my orange juice and cringed, wishing I hadn’t chewed the minty gum on the way over. “It’s okay, Dad. You don’t have to thank me; Susan’s cool. She’s kind of like Mom without the drama. Well, except on Friday, but under the circumstances, it was understandable.”

The waitress arrived laden with a full tray. She deposited our meals unceremoniously with the promise of returning with the coffee pot.

“Well, I do appreciate it with all this wedding stuff going on. Speaking of which, don’t forget we’re having the rehearsal on Friday. Will you be bringing your…uh, friend?”

I shook my head. The less exposure for Nate the better. “No, just Saturday.”

Dad dipped his toast points into the yellow spheres of yolk, pumping the bread up and down to get maximum coverage. “Okay. Susan’s sister was going to do her hair on Saturday, but I was wondering if you could get her an appointment at the spa for a full workover as a gift from me? I know I’ve left it late, but it completely slipped my mind.”

I chuckled. “Dad, it’s not a
workover
: I think that’s what the mob does. You want a
makeover
. And I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you when I get there tomorrow.”

He smiled. “Thanks, honey.”

I nodded.

“So tell me about this new friend of yours.”

Little white lies pervaded my tale of Nate Cooper, which lasted long enough for us to finish the meal. I dodged the obvious question, being ‘Is he Jewish?’ by pointing out that I’d asked and he wasn’t related to Jeff and Frieda Cooper. That seemed to satisfy Dad and change the subject at the same time; Jeff had just bought a new Jaguar and Dad had even made occasion to visit his friend during the week just for the purpose of drooling over it.

Once we were done, Dad pulled out his wallet and paid for brunch, apologizing again for ditching me with the bill the week before. I said it was okay, and for no reason at all, other than he was my dad, when we got up from the table, I gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I was pretty sure it made his day; kind of how it made mine.

Chapter 19

On the way home, my thoughts inevitably drifted to my evening with Nate the night before. He was going to be fun to take to the wedding, I just had to prime him on a few key points first.

1. We had to figure out a new ‘career’ for him for the evening.
   
2. He should know that we had been ‘dating’ for some time now.
   
3. He needed to make sure his look was flawless; I couldn’t afford being stuck with a guy who looked anything less than perfection.
   
4. It was expected that he was Jewish and should act the part at the wedding (this point made me the most nervous. No, not true—all four points were kind of big deals).
   

This was all-important info that couldn’t fit into a brief delivered on the short drive from my condo to the wedding ceremony. Thus, I realized Nate and I had to get together another time before the wedding. I mentally went through my calendar in a slight panic: there wasn’t much time left. Here it was Sunday and the wedding was Saturday evening. Friday was already taken up by the rehearsal and subsequent dinner. And worse than the lack of time: I would have to call him. Calling men was something I abhorred doing unless absolutely necessary. Oh well, consider it an emergency.

Speaking of calls, I quickly dialed Mom’s number, knowing she had her book club on Sunday afternoons (which I had a feeling had a lot more to do with drinking wine with a bunch of society ladies than it did discussing books) and wouldn’t pick up her phone.

“Hi Mom, sorry I missed you. Just wanted to let you know that I’m busy with Dad’s wedding stuff this week so I won’t be able to meet you for dinner on Tuesday. Sorry, Bye.”

Feeling slightly guilty, I hung up. Mom was having enough trouble; she didn’t need me dumping on her too, but I had enough on my own plate and wasn’t even sure how to deal with her. So it wasn’t the most grown-up thing to do, but my mother wasn’t exactly the most mature person, either.

* * *

Wednesday lunchtime ended up being a weird desert of appointments so Bev, Rita, me and the three other estheticians, Cindy, Katie and Bianca, sat in the staff room gossiping and discussing issues of great importance, namely who the hottest male celebrity. Although I had to listen for the door buzzer in case a client came into the spa, I participated wholeheartedly in the conversation, offering my eighteen cents’ worth.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” I spoke loudly, trying to drown out Bianca’s booming endorsement of Brad Pitt. “Johnny Depp in
Pirates of the Caribbean
, hands down. I don’t even care if he’s old.”

“You mean
lips
down,” Katie quipped, her left eyebrow raised in a perfectly-plucked arch.

“Har har,” I said amid the room full of cackles.

“Chris Pine is way, way hotter,” Cindy offered. “He’s younger and way sexier. I mean, those eyes…”

“You’re all crazy,” Rita interrupted. “Antonio Banderas…now
there’s
a real man.”

Everyone in the room under forty-five (that made everyone save for Rita) groaned together.

“He’s so greasy,” Katie said, crinkling up her nose. “Ryan Reynolds is on the top of my list. Tom Cruise number two and Chris
Evans
number three.”

“Tom Cruise is so over. He’s like sixty or something,” Bianca stood up and poured herself a coffee from the steaming pot. Instantly, three hands, including my own, offered up empty mugs for her to fill. “Sheesh,” she said, taking our cups in turn.

Rita sipped at her tea. “But it all depends on what you’re looking for in a man.”

“Um, someone hot!” I said, offering the group’s consensus.

“That’s not what I mean.” Rita shook her head. “I saw an interview of Tom Cruise where, before the interview officially started, he went around and introduced himself to everyone in the room, including the lighting people and everyone. He made note of their names and shook all their hands. That’s class. THAT is the kind of man you girls should be looking for.” She wagged her finger at us.

“So he kissed the lighting guy’s butt to make sure he looked good on camera, so what?” I said.

“No, I think I get what Rita’s saying,” Bev spoke for the first time. “She means to look for someone that’s respectful of
everyone
, not just the people that can get you somewhere.” She turned toward Rita, who was nodding.

I chewed the last bit of sushi (I had been jonesing since I didn’t get my Tuesday night dose and had gone to the place on the corner for a quickie ‘to go’ tray of California rolls) and swallowed before saying, “Give me a break. Celebrities like that don’t give a shit about lighting guys.”

Rita glanced at the clock and stood up, placing her mug into the sink. “If they were raised properly they do.”

I looked from Rita back to Bev and rolled my eyes.

Bev gave me a reproachful look and said, “I’m serious. I’d rather go out with an average-looking guy like that than some super-hot shmuck.”

Not sure that Bev had ever been out with a super-hot guy, shmuck or otherwise, I just looked at her.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at me. “There’s an old saying that someone who is nice to you but not the waiter is not a nice person. I think that’s true.”

Thankfully, the phone rang before I had to respond. I wasn’t sure what Bev was trying to get at but was glad for an excuse to get up and leave. The conversation had stopped being fun.

I jogged to the front desk and answered the phone, trying not to sound out of breath.

“Hi, honey.” It was Dad. In the second that I heard his voice I remembered suddenly that I was supposed to make appointments for Susan for Saturday. I smacked my forehead and then quickly turned to the computer to pull up the schedule.

“How’s all the wedding stuff coming?” I asked, stalling. Realizing I might be screwed, Saturday being our busiest day, I looked frantically up and down the schedule.

“Oh, good, just fine-tuning the last minute details. Say, did you manage to fit Susan in for Saturday?”

Whoops, time for some lies. “Dad, the other line’s ringing, can I put you on hold?” before he agreed, I pushed the red button, buying myself a few minutes.

I had taken most of Saturday off so I could prepare for the wedding but had booked myself in for a bikini wax, manicure, and eyebrow wax with Bev for mid-day. Realizing I was desperate, I took myself off the booking list, which opened Bev up to accommodate Susan. I’d just have to find another time for myself. Relieved, I returned to the phone.

“Sorry about that, Dad. Yeah, Susan’s appointment is at noon. I’ve put her in for a manicure and formal makeup application. Any more than that, and she won’t have enough time to get back and get her hair done before the wedding.”

“Thanks, honey. I knew you’d come through.” He said, making me feel incredibly guilty; if he hadn’t called, I would have completely forgotten.

“No problem, Dad.”

I hung up and thought about the wedding and how cool it was going to be to have such a good-looking date. All my parents’ friends would look at us and smile, patting Dad on the back, saying how well he’d done with me. It was then that I realized I hadn’t arranged to meet up with Nate before the wedding either. I shook my head at my own horrendous memory and looked around to make sure I was still alone at the desk.

I picked up my keyboard to reveal Nate’s number scribbled in Rita’s handwriting on the back of one of the spa’s appointment cards. I’d pretended to throw it out when she gave it to me, but had instead cleverly stashed it away for a time like this. Just in case. Assuming it was his home number, I thought it was a good time to call: he’d probably not be home so I could leave a message.

Putting all other lines on hold so I wouldn’t be interrupted by a call, I pressed nine on line four (my lucky number) and dialed Nate’s number. Thankfully he wasn’t home.

“Thanks for calling…” the regular spiel greeted me as I formulated my message.