The Kiddush Ladies Read online

  Naomi nodded in agreement about the community part, but doubted the part about the two women at the same table. “Becky would see right through that invitation. Believe me, I wish it was that simple. I’ve known these two women for most of my life. And, I’m baffled over how this small incident grew into nuclear warfare.”

  “We must try to protect Becky from her own stubbornness,” Esther said.

  For a waif of a woman, Esther held giant opinions--a huge personality stuffed into a barely one-hundred-pound, five-foot-one-inch frame.

  “Lewis, Ezra, time to start,” Esther shouted in the direction of the family room.

  The two men ambled into the dining room. Lewis took his place at the head of the table, and Ezra folded into the seat on his left. Lewis opened the Siddur and began singing Shalom Aleichem. When they finished singing, Lewis lifted the kiddush cup and chanted the blessing over the wine.

  Baruch atah, Adonai

  Eloheinu, Melech Haolam,

  borei p’ri hagafen.

  (Blessed are You God, King of the Universe,

  Creator of the fruit of the vine.)

  He took the first sip from the silver cup and passed it to Esther. She handed it off to Naomi and then Ezra. After each took a sip of the syrupy sweet wine, Lewis rose from the chair and walked to the kitchen sink. There he filled the ritual, two-handled cup and poured the water first over his right hand and then his left. As he dried them, he recited the blessing for handwashing. Ezra, Naomi, and Esther lined up behind him and waited for their turn to complete the ritual hand washing and recite the blessing.

  “I’ll call Becky tomorrow and see if there is a chance of getting them together,” Esther said, right before dumping the water on her right hand. She dried her hands on the special tea towel embroidered with the image of Shabbat candles and the daintily stitched words Shabbat Shalom--Sabbath peace.

  When they returned to the dining room, Lewis lifted the two challahs and recited hamotzi, the blessing of the bread. Naomi listened to his deep voice chant the ancient words, acknowledging to herself how much she loved the weekly rituals of the Sabbath--a security blanket she wrapped herself in every Friday night.

  Lewis passed chunks of the bread to each of them. Naomi dipped it into the bit of salt she sprinkled onto a plate before heading into the kitchen to help Esther serve the first course--fish and salads.

  They lingered over the fish course longer than usual, engrossed in the conversation. Lewis told Naomi about the University of Pittsburgh’s search for a new dean of the English Department.

  “Time for soup.” Esther jumped from the chair and indicated for Naomi to follow.

  “Hold that thought, Lewis,” Naomi said.

  Esther ladled matzah ball soup into the first bowl. “Here take this one to Ezra.”

  Before Naomi returned to the kitchen, Esther called her name. “Hurry up,” she said, thrusting another hot bowl into Naomi’s hands.

  “What’s the rush?” Naomi asked.

  “Zuz.” Esther flicked her wrists using the Hebrew word for move.

  “Naomi,” Lewis said. “I think...”

  “Shush,” Esther said, wielding a butter knife in her right hand. “That’s enough work talk. Why don’t you tell Ezra about the new CD that came in the mail this week?”

  Lewis and Ezra shared a love of The History Channel and Lewis’s collection of military documentaries. Especially, the documentaries about the Israeli army their son, Ofir, sent to his father.

  Ezra lifted his gaze from his bowl. His eyes wide with anticipation over the words Israeli Army. “Really, a new one?”

  “Yeah, this one is about Moshe Dayan. I didn’t even open the case yet. I wanted to wait for you.”

  Naomi smiled. Lewis had always been a kind, thoughtful man, but since Jake left, he made it a point to spend time with Ezra after Shabbat dinner.

  Her soup bowl still held half a matzah ball when Esther began clearing the soup bowls. Naomi clutched hers between her palms. “Don’t take it. I’m not finished yet.”

  “You eat too slow, speed it up.”

  Esther served the main course, sat down, and chattered about the weather. It seemed to Naomi that Esther was purposely trying to keep Lewis from talking.

  The two women cleared the table. Esther carried a double layer chocolate cake into the dining room, stopping next to Lewis. “Why don’t you and Ezra eat your dessert in the family room? You can watch that documentary.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened and a look of surprise registered on Lewis’s face.

  “Since when do you allow food in the family room?” Lewis asked.

  “Today.” She handed each of them a giant slice of chocolate cake and shooed them out of the dining room. “Sit down Naomi, there’s something we need to talk about.” She poured more wine into her friend’s glass. “Lewis met someone at the university. This man knows you.”

  This piqued Naomi’s attention.

  “He is one of the candidates for the dean position. He grew up in Squirrel Hill and wants to move back to Pittsburgh. He’s single!” Esther’s face glowed. “I didn’t want Lewis to ruin the surprise at dinner. That’s why I made him stop talking. I wanted to tell you.”

  Who did she grow up with that would be applying for a position at Pitt? Then her brain kicked in and reacted to Esther’s words “He’s single.”

  Naomi looked at Esther not wanting to hear more. “That’s nice. A lot of people move back.”

  “You’re not listening. He knows you and he’s single. You need a date. Lew suggested JDate, but I poo-pooed that idea,” she said, making her signature flicking motion with her wrists. “You need a shidduch, and I’ll be the matchmaker.”

  Esther’s facial expression combined excitement and resolve. It took all Naomi’s self-control not to laugh in her face.

  “Lewis invited him to shul tomorrow, and he agreed to come. So, you wear something sexy,” Esther said. “Well, as sexy as possible for the synagogue. At least, ditch the comfortable shoes and put on a pair of heels. You look so...so...so...I don’t know the word in English.” Esther leaned over to inspect Naomi, flipping up the tablecloth to expose her legs. “I got it. You look like an old safta since Jake left. You’re not a grandmother, flash some leg. You have good ankles.”

  No, no. “I don’t need a shidduch. I’ve been married. That part my life is over. Please, don’t do this.”

  “Don’t you even want to know his name?”

  Naomi leaned into the soft back of her chair, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and let out a loud huff. She really didn’t want to be fixed up. Not that she enjoyed being lonely or having an empty side of the bed, but seriously, single men in her age group wanted twenty-five-year-old trophy wives. For her to qualify as a trophy wife, he would have to be at least eighty-six years-old. No thank you. Across the table, a mischievous smirk lingered on Esther’s face.

  “Fine, what’s his name?” Naomi asked.

  “Aaron Brenner. Do you remember him?”

  Her body reacted faster than her brain--blood surged to her face and her heart pounded, but the worst part was the sweat that suddenly formed on her upper lip and the back of her neck. Aaron Brenner.

  Chapter 9

  Naomi

  “Naomi, I’m asking you again, do you remember him?” A tone of impatience tinged Esther’s accent. She wanted an answer, but Naomi couldn’t speak.

  Naomi managed to pull in a deep breath and nod. But the silence inside the room grew heavier with each heartbeat. What to tell Esther? The simple answer? Yes, I remember him. When the real answer sounded more like How could I forget Aaron? Some people lodge themselves in your brain and never leave. Aaron took up residence in mine on September 13, 1981.

  “Naomi,” Esther said. “Are you ignoring me?”

  Naomi shook her head. Her throat constricted--too parched to let out the words. Aaron Brenner. Years ago, she read a quote in a magazine. It read something like, a woman always remembers the man she could have had,
while a man remembers the woman he couldn’t have.

  The words could be interpreted many ways. Maybe men related it to sex. For Naomi, the message always represented the path in life she chose. Her life was the way it was, good and bad, because she chose Jake. But, for a few years, her path merged with Aaron’s. She spent many lonely nights wondering what it would have been like to wake up with him on the other side of the bed.

  “Naomi, you have to say something. I don’t understand your spastic head shakes. Yes or no?”

  After taking a huge gulp of wine, Naomi found the words. “Yes, I remember him. I’m actually surprised he remembers me.”

  A big smile spread across Esther’s face. “This is good, very good. You can sit next to him during kiddush tomorrow. Then you can invite him to be your date for Noah’s wedding.”

  Esther’s words, spoken in the present, didn’t register because Naomi’s mind floated back to a warm May night long ago, remembering kisses and gentle caresses.

  “This is so exciting,” Esther gathered up their desert dishes and headed toward the kitchen.

  Naomi struggled to push the memories away and keep her brain on the present.

  When she opened her eyes on Saturday morning, the previous evening, especially Esther’s words, seemed like a dream that she couldn’t wrap her mind around. But she said it. “Aaron Brenner.” She rolled over, closed her eyes, and pulled the pillow to her chest...

  ***

  “Aaron, please, we can’t do this,” she said, as her hands continued roaming his naked back.

  “Why not, Naomi? You know I’m crazy about you.”

  His lips continued kissing her neck as his hands fumbled with her bra strap. His breath, warm against her skin, sent tingles down her spine.

  “Cars, Aaron. Cars will drive by. Someone will see us.” The exact moment she finished choking out the words, the strap across her back sprung open.

  “We’re alone. No one ever drives on this road.”

  He tasted so delicious and smelled like heaven. She wrapped her fingers through his curls. His hands glided over her breasts and down her stomach leaving a wake of warmth. They hesitated briefly at the top button of her blue jeans.

  “I never did this before,” Naomi whispered into his ear.

  “Me either.”

  ***

  She opened her eyes and, for a few moments, stared at the ceiling, wallowing in the pleasure of the memory. Finally, she glanced at the clock--nine fifteen. Time to get out of bed. She pulled her robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door and slipped it on, knotting it tightly around her waist before heading to the kitchen. Coffee. She needed coffee.

  Just the idea of her and Aaron Brenner sitting in the same sanctuary, listening to Rabbi Morty’s sermon, and eating at the same lunch table seemed preposterous. He was famous and successful. He didn’t belong in a small synagogue in a suburb of Pittsburgh.

  As the coffee brewed, the dam holding back all memories of Aaron broke. She tried pushing them back, but her mind’s eye remained focused on a close up image of his face.

  What would she say to him? After rehearsing a few lines, which all sounded staunch and formal or too familiar, she filled her cup and slogged back up to her room. The walk-in closet held a lot of old clothes, dresses that fit beautifully fifteen pounds ago. She pulled two dresses from the bar and held them up. Ah, the good old days when Jake’s black Amex card held a special spot in her wallet. She slipped the red one over her head. It bagged across the bust and under the arms. She contorted her body to get a view of her backside. At one time, she could ask Jake the dreaded question. “Does this dress make my butt look big?” He would always give an honest answer.

  She twisted to inspect the other side and thought about Ezra. No. She shook her head. Walking into her son’s room and asking that question would be weird. She pulled the slinky material over her head and tossed it onto the bed before pulling on a simple black shift with three quarter length sleeves. It looked better. Well...maybe not better, but a lot safer.

  Naomi dug in her jewelry box chastising herself for being so concerned about her appearance. On an average day, she was happy if her stockings lacked runs. On weekends, she didn’t even care if her socks matched. Ezra made fun of her inside out sweatshirts, a habit she picked up in the 80s and never outgrew.

  She wiggled her feet into her last surviving pair of spiked-heeled black pumps and looked at her ankles. Esther was right, not so bad.

  She gazed into the mirror above the dresser. At eighteen, Aaron was the most handsome boy in the school. They started dating at the beginning of her junior year of high school. It was his senior year. Studious and very ambitious, he earned a full scholarship to Columbia. One year later, she was rejected by Columbia and ended up at the University of Pittsburgh, a mere one point three miles from her house. They wrote pages and pages of letters and sucked every minute out of Christmas breaks, spring breaks, and summers.

  “Mom, are you almost ready?” Ezra hollered up the stairs.

  “I’m coming, just give me one more minute.” She walked to the closet, and pulled out both of her black hats. The wide brim of the first one looked too fancy to go with the simple style of the dress, so she put it back on the shelf. The style of the second hat matched with the dress, but it took a minute to situate it properly on her head. Standing in front of the mirror she realized black dress, black hat, black shoes--a funeral. Over the last few years, it was hard to remember a day that didn’t feel like a funeral. Nothing like the excitement she felt on the day she first considered breaking up with Aaron. A simple college elective in her junior year, an anthropology class, altered the trajectory of her life...

  ***

  She dug around inside the front section of her backpack, searching for a pink marker. Her doodles--I love Aaron and Mrs. Aaron Brenner would look much better outlined in pink ink. The black ink was boring. There wasn’t a notebook in her backpack or dormitory room that wasn’t a testament of her love for Aaron. She wiggled, trying to get comfortable in the stupid wooden desk designed for right-handed people.

  Naomi glanced at her watch. Her patience thinned. Was there an unwritten rule that professors must be late on the first day of class? This was her third late professor in two days.

  “Is this Anthropology 101?” asked a deep voice.

  She looked up and her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. The boy standing in front of the room was beautiful--black hair, high cheek bones, full lips, and a Star of David hanging around his neck. His smile sent blood rushing to her face. She dropped her head, hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt.

  After her pounding heart returned to normal, she dared to look up. He hadn’t moved from the front of the room, just stood there, scanning the empty desks. The moment their eyes met, he stepped forward. Within an instant, he plopped into the desk to her right, dropped his backpack to the floor, and smiled.

  In a lame attempt to distract herself from staring at him, she doodled squiggly lines on the blank page in the middle of her notebook, until a hand smacked down on the desktop. She examined the arm attached to it--tan, just enough hair to be sexy, but not furry. And the biceps...

  Then she shifted her gaze to his eyes. Gray--his eyes were an unusual shade of gray, backlit by a golden light.

  “The professor better get this show on the road, because when we get out of here, I’m buying you lunch,” said the beautiful mouth belonging to Jake.

  He took her to Hemmingway’s for lunch. Afterward, they walked to the Cathedral of Learning and sat down on the lawn, enjoying the last of the summer sun. The conversation flowed for hours. She listened as he described his dream of going to medical school and someday practicing in Pittsburgh. His voice cast a hypnotic spell over her. She wanted to listen to him talk forever.

  When the sun began to set, he walked her back to the dorm. The next morning, when she left for class, he was sitting on the bench outside her door. She broke up with Aaron a week later.

  “Mo
m,” Ezra yelled, again. “Hurry up!”

  She grabbed a multi-colored scarf and slung it over her shoulders. “I’m coming.”

  ***

  Everything appeared exactly as it should at the shul. The men were well hidden behind the mehitza and the women sat in their usual spots. Naomi took her seat, next to the wall, and mentally chastised her stomach for behaving so badly.

  Esther slithered from her spot behind Naomi into the seat next to her. “He’s here. You didn’t tell me he was handsome.”

  “He used to be. I don’t know what he looks like now. I haven’t seen him in person since 1980-something. But a few years ago, when one of his books was made into a movie, I saw him interviewed on a morning talk show. He looked good on TV,” Naomi replied.

  Before Esther could respond, Miriam stuck her head between their shoulders. “I’ve made-up my mind. I’m going to the wedding without an invitation. After all, I helped raise the boy and let him stay at my house for a month during his junior year of high school. Don’t you remember, Naomi? After he and Becky had that huge fight?”

  “How could I forget?” The adult part of Naomi’s brain was happy to move the topic away from Aaron, but the other less grown-up part wanted to ask Esther a million questions.

  “And,” Miriam continued. “I know how to make Becky happy and make her forgive me for whatever I did.”

  At that very instant, Rabbi Morty flashed a look that would have cooled a hot flash. “Shhh, Miriam,” Naomi said. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  A huge bleached white smile spread across Miriam’s face. She nodded and opened the Siddur, pretending to know what page Morty was on.