Brooklyn Love (Crimson Romance) (22 page)

Every child knew that if they were just a little nicer that day, they might achieve being “nice like Shimshon Kaplinsky.” If they got an exceptionally good grade on an exam, they thought: “Whoa! Soon that Kaplinsky boy will have to watch out. You’ll be smarter!” Daughters heard: “Keep bickering with your sister and you’ll never get a guy like Shimshon Kaplinsky!” And the converse: “How pretty you look this Shabbos! If Shimshon Kaplinsky saw you now, I’m sure he would want to marry you!”

Like a royal heir, Shimshon had been groomed for a position of leadership, and he performed his role superbly. He was a model for all the boys of the community and a reminder for the girls to behave and maintain a good reputation; only then could they merit a boy of his stature. However, there was one little problem no one in the community had ever imagined: Shimshon Kaplinsky wasn’t into it. At all.

For all his twenty-three years, Shimshon had never felt, not even one iota, that the Great Shimshon Kaplinsky had anything in common with the Real Shimshon Kaplinsky. He was expected to follow the logic and Law of his ancestors. He was expected to behave in a certain way, and he complied.

But the first time he’d had any true feelings, ever, was when he met Shayna Goldfarb. Now his heart pounded, his mind raced; the air smelled sweeter, colors looked more intense. He felt strong, like he could do anything. He felt happy. He felt real.

They always said that these feelings would come if he were totally immersed in his Talmud. But these feelings never came. Just more studying, more logic, more rote.

With Shayna, he was no longer the heir apparent, he was just Shim: a young man with good points as well as flaws. With Shayna, he no longer felt head and shoulders above everybody else; he felt average. He felt human.

With Shayna, he felt like he was a man. With Shayna, he felt alive.

“Your mother doesn’t like the flowers? Who cares about the stupid flowers?” Rachel sat in her bedroom on the phone with Daniel and couldn’t believe he was asking her to do this.

“You’ll be in the city anyway. Can’t you pick out the flowers?” Daniel huffed.

“Why can’t you, Daniel?” Rachel said. The phone was nestled in the crook of her neck and she was trying to dress and talk to her fiancé at the same time.

“I have to work.”

“But I’ve told you a million times,
today
is the day. Disney is coming to look at our work. This is my chance to show my portfolio. I’ve been waiting for this day for years, Daniel!”

“Oh, so I guess our wedding isn’t as important?”

Rachel stumbled as she zipped up her denim skirt. “That’s not fair. It really isn’t. I need my work reviewed. Why do I need to get the flowers today?”

“The shop is exclusive. My mother hated the last choice in flowers so she made an appointment for you to choose something nice. She had to wait days for this appointment, and if you break it, we won’t have the flowers in time for the wedding. It’s in and out of the shop, that’s all. Why can’t you go?”

Rachel couldn’t believe she was agreeing to this. “In and out.”

“That’s right. You’ll be back in class before Disney even gets there.”

Rachel sighed. “Okay, Daniel. Fine. In and out.”

Rachel grabbed her things and ran out the door to the train station. She lugged her portfolio onto the train, and sitting down, noticed the elderly Rebbitzen Kaplinsky sitting beside her. The rebbitzen wore an old camel-colored coat, last in fashion in the seventies, over a big flower printed apron that she must have forgotten to remove before she left the house. She wore a silver-haired wig with blond streaks and huge round glasses that, surprisingly, hid her wrinkles.

“Rebbitzen, how are you feeling?” she asked. She watched as throngs of passengers moved in and out of the train, packing together in close proximity.

“Thank God, no complaints,” the rebbitzen said as the train rattled. “Aren’t you one of those lovely girls who visited me in the hospital?”

Rachel smiled. “Yes, I like to join my friends whenever they go visiting.”

The rebbitzen nudged Rachel lightly in the ribs. “I remember you said you were seeing someone. Right?”

Rachel shrugged. “Yep. Still seeing him. We are engaged.”

“Oh!
Mazel tov
! Isn’t that nice!”

Rachel sighed. “I guess so.”

“What’s with ‘you guess so?’”?

“To be honest, Rebbitzen, sometimes I think maybe we aren’t
basherte
. Maybe we aren’t meant to be.” Rachel was surprised by how badly she needed to share her feelings, and how comfortable she felt with the rebbitzen.

The rebbitzen reached into her deep apron pocket for two sucking candies. One she offered to Rachel, the other she put in her mouth. “Oh, dear. Sometimes you know, but most times you don’t. That Hollywood flashy feeling is really just two neuroses colliding with each other. It’s a mystical kind of thing,
basherte
. Some say the act of getting married is what makes a couple
basherte
.”

Rachel nodded. “I’ve heard that.”

The elderly rebbitzen sighed. “You don’t want to miss out on an opportunity. You can end up missing out on life altogether.”

Rachel smiled politely. She’d heard that mantra so often; she could recite it in her sleep.

Dozens of passengers sat huddled close together, yet as strangers without contact. Some listened to iPods, others had e-readers or tablets, and a few read their newspapers folded just so.

The rebbitzen continued. “True love comes from giving. The one you think is kind, you respect, you can be your true self with, and you enjoy spending time with — the one you want to give to — that’s your
basherte
.”

Rachel solemnly nodded.

The train was nearing a stop, and the rebbitzen got up to go. “By the way, mamale, I had a fellow in mind for you. He’s studying to be a rabbi at my husband’s yeshiva. But now that you are engaged, maybe you have a friend for him instead?”

“Sure,” Rachel said, surprised. “I’d be happy to help connect him to a single girlfriend. Do you have any information about him?”

The rebbitzen reached into her endless pocket and pulled out a wad of papers held together with a rubber band. She pulled off the top paper from the rest, folded it, and handed it to Rachel.

“Here, mamale. Here’s what he’s about. Of course a person is more than their summary from a list.”

Rachel agreed, taking the paper. “I’ll see what I can do, Rebbitzen.”

The train stopped and the older woman exited. She turned on the platform and waved to Rachel as the train continued on.

Curious, Rachel opened the folded piece of paper to look over the description of the single fellow the rebbitzen had thought was for her. Obviously he wasn’t, because she was engaged to another man.

She read the name on the first line and thought she was going to faint.

It was Jacob Zohar.

• • •

Rachel glanced at her watch after she finished choosing flowers for her wedding at the midtown flower shop. Tricia had said Disney would be arriving at 2:00, which gave her fifteen minutes to get to class. Traffic was slow and heavy, so a bus or a taxi would crawl. She needed to cover twenty blocks and two avenues in fifteen minutes. So she ran.

She ran through the traffic and weaved through the throngs of pedestrians, past the tall buildings and vendors selling chestnuts and hotdogs, until she reached her school.

Sweat dripping down her face, she raced up the stairs to the sixth floor to her illustration class. It was 2:19.

Panting, she hoped she wouldn’t make a bad impression. She entered the classroom as she threw off her coat. She saw Fitz and Christine — and nobody else.

Christine shook her head. “You missed it, Rachel.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tricia got it all wrong. Disney came at twelve. They were done by two.”

Rachel stared at her portfolio, which she had just lugged all that way. “No! This can’t be right.”

Fitz handed her a note from Disney, addressed to him. It was an invitation to review his work personally with the head honchos at Disney. Fitz had won.

Rachel looked up slowly. “And you, Chris?”

“Yeah, I got one, too. But don’t feel bad about it, Rachel. Hardly anyone else got one.”

Fitz shrugged. “Oh, c’mon, Rach. You’ve got big plans for this summer, anyway. You’ll be married. You’ll probably be pregnant and vomiting everywhere, so you wouldn’t even be able to make it to Orlando for the internship.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Rachel said in a hollow voice. She sank into an empty chair and panted to catch her breath. “Well. Win some, lose some.” She tried to smile. But her smile felt like it was going to crack.

On a cold, dark night in December, Suri and Michael Kaufman stood with their kids in front of their huge bay window and lit the candles on their silver menorah.

As the flames lit up the night, they sang the traditional songs, Michael dramatically emphasizing the cadences with his deep baritone and hand motions.

Chanukah meant laughter, song, and fried latkes — wonderful potato pancakes that Suri bought just for the occasion. It meant what traditionally used to be a game of dreidel that had, over time, morphed into poker.

This holiday, though, the boys insisted on a late night game because they were all busy. Aryeh was working hard to establish his new business. However, his computer wasn’t registering a few files Hindy had been working on, so he wanted to review the quirks with Hindy that night, before their client arrived the following morning.

And Macy … well, nobody ever knew what Macy was up to — except for Macy.

When the songs were done, they wished each other a “Happy Chanukah” and Suri brought out lavishly wrapped gifts for all three of her children.

“Happy Chanukah.” Suri handed Aryeh a small box wrapped in gold paper. Aryeh knew she loved her shy, dark-skinned son, though their relationship was always a bit more strained than with the other boys.

“I had three calls for shidduchim for you, Aryeh.” Suri said, “They all want you, darling. Would you like to hear about the girls?”

The lights from the candles burned brightly in the window as Aryeh carefully opened the little package his mother had bought him for the holiday — an expensive bottle of cologne.

“Thanks, Ma.” He sprayed some on his wrist to show his appreciation. Behind his mother, his father winked; they both knew Aryeh never wore cologne.

“Only the finest for my boys. So you want to hear about the girls?” Suri sat with Michael and Aryeh on her living room couch.

“No, thank you, Ma. I’m too busy at work.”

“Tattaleh, you’ll be forty-five and busy with work. Date now. We could always help you out if you need it.”

Aryeh shook his head. “You wouldn’t help me if I wanted to learn, but you’ll help me if I’m working?”

“Please, tattaleh, don’t bring up such unpleasantness.”

“What is unpleasant? It is what it is.”

Suri shrugged. “So what’s stopping you from learning?”

“When? I’m exhausted. This business is taking everything out of me.”

“You
are
being unpleasant, Aryeh.”

“Excuse me, Mother.”

Suri sighed. She’d tried setting her boys up many times, and she was going to try again. “Let me tell you about the girls. A famous rabbi’s daughter who is gorgeous, a millionaire’s daughter who is yummy, and a friend of mine from Hungary — her daughter is also a catch. There are another twenty-four names after them on the list, but I prefer these three to start with. Which one do you want to see first?”

“Ma, I don’t want to date now.”

“Aryeh. Don’t be ridiculous.”

The doorbell rang, and Michael went to get it. “Aryeh, Hindy is here.”

Suri made a face, wrinkling her nose. “Oy, Leah’s friend — that ugly girl?”

“Why do you have to call her ugly?” Aryeh shook his head. “Hindy is the finest person I know.”

“Her? That’s why you don’t want to date, Aryeh? Over my dead body! She is so plain!”

Aryeh laughed. “She’s definitely not your type, Ma! But no worries. She wouldn’t date me anyway — she only wants a learning boy.”

“Thank God I didn’t let you go into learning!”

• • •

Aryeh led Hindy down to the office. They had just started working together, and he had already come to feel that as a team they could work out anything together. His new business was already taking off, and he knew it was mostly due to Hindy — both her competence and the gracious way she dealt with clients. Whether dealing with a receptionist or a CEO, Hindy always spoke simply and sweetly. Everyone she came into contact with seemed to appreciate it. And she was so dedicated that she
wanted
to work during Chanukah. But now he noticed his Hindy looking very withdrawn and pale.

“Hindy, may I ask you a personal question?” Aryeh keyed in numbers on a calculator at the desk parallel to Hindy’s.

Hindy looked up from the computer where she sat working.

“Is anything troubling you?”

She frowned. “How’d you know?”

“You aren’t chattering. I figured something must be wrong.”

Hindy gave a tight smile. “There’s no problem. It’s just that my home situation is kind of strange right now. My sister Shayna, the pretty one, is about to get engaged to the Kaplinsky boy. A very big learner, you know.”

Aryeh knew. In frum families like Hindy’s, girls were encouraged to grow up to marry a good boy like Shimshon Kaplinsky, and boys were encouraged to learn. And Shimshon Kaplinsky was a great learner. Aryeh envied him his freedom to pursue his devotion.

“It must feel awkward for you, with Shayna marrying someone you dated.”

Hindy rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Nah. I barely even spoke to him. It’s just weird being the older sister. I have to keep smiling and telling everybody how happy I am for them. And you know what? It’s tiring. I have to go way out of my way to be exuberant, just so nobody should feel I’m, God forbid, jealous — which maybe I am, a tiny bit. But it’s exhausting being exuberant all the time!”

Aryeh laughed. “I can’t imagine you having difficulty being exuberant!” he added, only half joking. “But you know, Hindy, I think you are worth your weight in gold!”