Dating Kosher (22 page)

“No, I don’t keep kosher, Lauren. After what they did to me when I was a scant eight days old, I sort of lost my taste for Jewish laws.”

The entire table broke into laughter, except for Lauren, of course.

Score two for Nate. I looked over at him and grinned. He returned the smile, adding a wink. I wondered suddenly if he had in fact been circumcised, like all Jewish men were on their eighth day after birth, and caught myself just before a blush threatened to color my face. I forcefully pushed the thought out of my mind, telling myself that it didn’t matter whether he was or not, since I’d never be that…eh hem…close to him.

Since he not only matched her barb for barb but also wouldn’t be the center of any family scandal, Lauren suddenly lost interest in Nate and turned from him to sip at her wine.

I didn’t know the woman who my cousin Simon had brought as his date. She seemed nervous and fidgeted with her water glass, running her fingers up and down through the beads of condensation that had accumulated on the outside of the goblet. Simon is gay but was very much still in the closet and insisted on bringing female dates to family functions to throw everyone off.
I
knew his secret; had seen him and his partner holding hands at an open air jazz concert two years previous where he had begged me not to out him to the family. I had always suspected it of him and he was definitely my coolest cousin so I had promised him his secret was safe with me. To my knowledge, I was the only one in the family who knew.

“I’m Shoshanna and this is Nate,” I said politely to Simon’s date.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Simon piped up, shaking his head at his own faux pas. “This is Saffron.”

“Wow, what a cool name,” I said, always having wished my parents had named me something exotic instead of saddling me with Shoshanna. Most people couldn’t even pronounce my name properly, let alone attempt to spell it.

“Thanks,” Saffron said, looking down into her lap. She reminded me of a timid little mouse.

That left one vacant seat at the table.

On cue, Jacob Weinman wandered over to the table and for the first time that day, I got a good look at him head on.

Wow. He’d obviously had some sort of extreme makeover. He’d gotten a decent haircut, contacts and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

He sat in the empty seat between Simon and Mitchell’s fidgeting wife. “I guess I’m the only one here stag, huh?” he laughed nervously.

“
I’m
here by myself, dumbass,” Jen announced loudly. Nice to see she wasn’t just a bitch to me. What a lovely family. I wondered if Susan drank during her pregnancies.

I decided right then and there that some serious drinking was in order. “Simon, let’s go get some drinks for the table before the bar closes for dinner, shall we?”

“Good idea,” Simon looked over at his (wink wink) ‘date.’ “What can I get you, Saffron?”

She looked up at him and smiled weakly. “White wine spritzer?” He nodded and went around the table, taking everyone else’s order.

I pushed my chair back and as I rose, leaned in close to Nate’s ear. “You’re doing great. What can I get you?”

“Just a Coke, please.”

“You sure?”

He nodded over at the bottles of wine already on the table in preparation for the meal. “I’ll have a glass with dinner.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, joining in step with Simon as we walked toward the bar.

He looped his arm through mine as we crossed the empty dance floor. “What happened to your face?”

I cringed. “Ugh, it’s not even worth mentioning. I fell and hit my head on the coffee table right before the ceremony this afternoon.”

“Oh, Shosh.” Simon stifled a laugh. “You okay, though?”

I nodded. “Five stitches. I’d show you but I don’t have a spare bandage to cover it back up.”

“So how are you doing, really? I haven’t seen you in ages…”

“I’m okay,” I said. “What about you? When are you going to ‘fess up and come out of the closet already? It’s cool to be gay now, this isn’t last century, you know.”

He laughed. “As soon as you ‘fess up and stop passing off this
shaygetz
as a nice Jewish boy. Although, I must say, he’s doing a great job.”

I looked at him sideways. “You didn’t follow him into the bathroom, did you?”

Simon barked out a laugh. “Funny girl. Tempting, but no. Still, you just basically admitted it.”

His intuition had always been extremely sharp. It was my turn to laugh. “Touché. You got me. He is cute, though, isn’t he?”

“Cute? That man is
magnificent
. But I did think I’d be dancing the
hora
at
your
wedding by now. What’s going on with you? What happened to Max?”

“Max was a train wreck.”

Simon nodded, knowingly. “Well, that’s true. I am no authority on straight relationships, but I’m so glad you got rid of that.”

It was amazing how since the breakup with Max, people were crawling out of the woodwork to tell me how wrong he had been for me. Where were they when I was
in
the relationship? No one had said anything then.

I shrugged as we approached the bar. “Vodka martini and a Coke,” I said to the bartender. “I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t found the right Jewish guy yet.”

Simon shook his head, a frown deepening the creases in his brow.

“So who’s the girl?” I asked.

Simon looked back at our table. Nate had shuffled over to sit beside Saffron and they were both laughing. A sudden pang of jealousy fluttered across my chest. Why did he have to be so damn friendly?

“She’s a girl from work. I practically had to beg her to come, but I just couldn’t bear coming by myself to sit with my perfect brother Mitch and his perfect pregnant wife and my witch of a sister and her chew toy. It’s just too much pressure.”

Silently, I thanked my parents for keeping me an only child. Although I certainly understood what he meant by pressure.

“Well you could have aligned yourself with Susan’s kids: bitchella and doofus-boy. They’re both single, how shocking.”

Simon chuckled. “Sad, we’re from generation
spoiled
. They’re no worse than my own sister. Speaking of whom, I’m sorry Laurie (he called her that to drive her nuts, I suppose a sibling’s prerogative) was such a bitch, but your
shaygetz
seemed to hold his own quite nicely.”

“Yeah, he does do okay, doesn’t he? Where is Ben tonight?” I’d never officially met Simon’s long-term partner other than the one quick intro at the jazz concert, but I thought it was only polite to ask after him.

“At home, sulking.”

I snorted. “I don’t blame him. I’d be pissed if you hid me out at home too.”

Once mine and Nate’s drinks were placed on the bar, Simon rattled off the rest of the order to the bartender, turning back to me when he was done.

“I know.” He looked at his shoes. “It’s not fair to him, but it’s just not the right time yet. You know, my mom would probably be okay with it, but my dad… And what about Bubby?”

“When’s it going to be the right time? When your dad’s dead?”

Simon smirked. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

I shook my head. “You have to be who you are. Anything less and you’re living a lie. So what if it means upsetting a few family members along the way?” I took a sip of my martini. “And anyway, look around; I think this family could use a bit of mixing up. If Ben is half as cool as you are, I’m sure he’s great.”

Simon smiled and squeezed my arm. “Thanks, Shoshie. He
is
great.” He looked around the room his eyes darting from table to table. “What do you think Bubby would say?”

I followed Simon’s eyes to where our grandmother was sitting at a table among nine other heads of white or graying hair (two verging on blue). “I don’t know. She’s pretty mellow these days. She even mentioned a man at her residence that she liked.” I smiled. “But that’s a far cry from finding out your grandson is a
faygeleh
.”

“Hmm,” Simon said as he took the laden tray of drinks and we walked back to our table. As we approached, Nate slid over to his chair, but continued talking to Saffron, “So then he says ‘
I told you
I didn’t have a Chihuahua!’”

Saffron giggled.

“Thanks, Shoshanna,” Nate said when I placed his drink in front of him.

Usually, I take pride in being the life of the party, but the black hole of hunger in my stomach prevented me from doing much at dinner other than trying to fill it. Not that the crowd at the table was much fun anyway; other than Nate and Simon talking about cars or sports, there was almost no conversation. Yawn.

Just as she had feared, Bev was stuck at the castoffs table with some people I’d never met but could imagine were of little significance to the bride and groom, considering their being relegated to the very back corner of the ballroom. A couple of times Bev had caught my eye, making faces and rolling her eyes at her tablemates. I tipped my martini at her, and she returned the gesture. Even she knew copious martinis made any situation a little more bearable.

* * *

After martini number seven, things began to get dicey.

Right after dinner I had gone into the lobby with my cell phone and had called the vet’s office to inquire about Armani. They told me that they’d had to catheterize him because of some sort of urinary tract blockage. Cringing, I listened to them tell me about the procedure, but they said at least he was now unblocked and passing urine, which they said was a good thing.

They also said he would have to stay at least overnight, if not until Monday. Relieved that he was going to be okay, I told the girl that I would be by on Sunday to talk to the veterinarian and visit with Armani. It was all I could do to keep from crying right there in the hotel lobby. I was sure he was terrified; my poor little Armani.

Since there was nothing else I could do about that situation, I decided to crank up my drinking.

Mitch and his wife had gone home the second the speeches were over and in looking at Sheila, her discomfort making my own uterus hurt, I don’t think it was a moment too soon. I half-expected Mitch to come running back into the ballroom screaming for boiled water and a doctor because she’d gone into labor waiting for the valet. Lauren and her boyfriend had disappeared, and Jen and Jacob were out in the lobby sitting in the club chairs and most certainly complaining to each other about the nuptials, me, the food and everything else on the planet.

That left Simon, Saffron, Nate and me to sit at the table, lingering over half-eaten desserts and free-flowing martinis. Well, admittedly I was the only one drinking martinis, but they were definitely free-flowing.

Bev sidled over and sat at the table with a sigh.

“What’s up girlfriend?” I slurred, hoping my alcohol-induced speech impediment wasn’t as noticeable to others as it was to me.

She shrugged. “Not much.”

I looked longingly into the empty depths of my glass.

Turning my head, I looked at Nate, making sure to bat my eyelashes seductively. “Get me another martini?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, but if you can’t walk to get it yourself, you’ve had too many.”

Cruel man. How did he know my legs had become liquid? Well screw him, I’d get my own drink. “C’mon Bev, let’s get a drink.” I grabbed her arm and pulled myself up out of my chair. Someone laughed. It was Simon, I glared at him, pursing my lips before I turned on my heel and made my way to the bar.

Leaning heavily on Bev, every step was deliberate. She was used to me being like this, but usually, she was drunk too. “Why you so dry tonight, Bevvy?”

“I dunno.”

“Come on, there’s gotta be a reason. You do know it’s free booze, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I dunno, I guess I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”

“Weird.”

“Hey, Shosh?”

“Ya?”

“What do you think of Jacob? He looks pretty good tonight, huh?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, the inertia of my sudden movement almost knocking me over. I looked at her, dread becoming a knot in my stomach, sloshing around among the vodka, vermouth and the remnants of the wedding meal. “Wait…Jacob
who
?”

Bev dropped her eyes to the floor. I almost couldn’t hear when she whispered the name I most feared: “Weinman.”

“EWW!” I exclaimed, louder than intended. The people at the table beside the bar stared, but I didn’t care. I had martini courage.

“Shh!” Bev clucked. “I think he looks good, Shosh. Did you even look at him today?”

“Uh, ya, and he’s still a moron. I can see that much.” I turned to the bartender, squinting to unblur the letters on his name tag. “Fill me up again, please, Tom.”

“It’s Tim,” the bartender said.

“Whatever,” I said, shrugging.

Bev leaned in and hissed at me. “That’s bitchy, Shosh.”

“What?” I looked at her, willing her face to stop jiggling from side to side.

“Saying ‘whatever’ like that when you get someone’s name wrong.”

Having trouble following what Bev was talking about, I just nodded, hoping that would suffice to end the reprimand. In case it didn’t, I changed the subject. “What do you want with Jacob Weinman? You can do better, Bev.”

She looked at her shoes again. “I’m not you, Shoshanna.”

“What do you mean?” My brain began to throb; drinking martinis and thinking are strictly mutually exclusive activities.

“You never have trouble finding guys, you always get good-looking, successful guys tripping all over you.”

I blinked, trying to take in what she was saying and when I did, I had to laugh. “Bev, you’re delirious. May I remind you about Max, Phil…um, hello?”

“That’s not what I mean,” she looked like she was going to cry.

Not wanting to spill my full drink, I gulped it down, my stomach and the tiny shred of judgment I had left protesting. Placing the glass carefully back on the bar, I then turned to Bev and grabbed her arm, leading her out into the foyer.

“What is wrong?” I asked.

Bev burst into tears. “I’m never going to find someone.”

I took her arm and led her toward the bathroom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you think you’ll find someone?”