Dating Kosher (20 page)

“I fell and hit my head. I didn’t have time to go home and change; I just left the hospital.”

Bev looked me up and down, the horror on her face mirroring how I felt. “Oh my God, you’re going to stand under the
chuppah
in…”

I shook my head. “No. They said I could just sit in the audience as long as I showed up.” I caught sight of my Uncle Moishe and ducked down so he wouldn’t see me.

“Oh Shosh, that’s awful.” Bev was the epitome of what a supportive friend should be. “Wait a minute.” She looked down at herself. “You can wear this.”

“What do you mean? What will you wear?”

Bev suddenly looked taller as she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “It’s more important that you’re in there. It’s your
dad
.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “I can’t do that. What would you wear?” We both knew she wouldn’t fit into my shorts; hell, I hardly did.

Bev swiveled her head toward the check-in desk, not answering my question again. “Go into the bathroom. She nodded toward the ladies’ room door which was only a few steps away. Nate, you come with me.”

Feeling a bit left out, but unwilling to cross the lobby again, I slipped into the bathroom and went right into the first stall, locking the door just in case anyone came in. I sat on the toilet to wait, wondering what Bev was up to.

I didn’t have to wait long. After only a few minutes, she came back, calling my name.

“Here, I’m in the wheelchair stall.” I leaned forward and unlocked the door so she could join me.

She pushed the door open, a terrycloth robe folded over her arm. I looked up at her, the obvious question in my eyes.

She was already slipping out of her shoes. “It might be a bit big, but it’s better than what you’ve got on.”

“What are you doing?” I just stood, staring at her.

“Getting undressed. And I suggest you do the same.” She hiked up the dress and pulled down her pantyhose, handing them to me. “I’m sorry if they’re a bit too big, but you know…” she looked up at me apologetically. “Come on, Shosh, you don’t have a lot of time.”

“You are the best friend I could ever have,” I said through my tears. By the end of this day I was going to be totally dehydrated, between the blood and all the tears, of that I was sure.

Bev stopped undressing long enough to look at me. “No worries, hey, I get to hang out in a suite for a while. Susan said I could use their honeymoon suite during the ceremony.”

“You’re not coming?”

“In a bathrobe?” she laughed. “Nah, you’ve seen one wedding, you’ve seen ‘em all. I’ll just go hang out.”

I pulled the dress up and wiggled into it, turning so she could zip it up for me. I turned back toward her. “I’m so sorry, Bev.”

She shrugged. “Don’t be. As long as I make it to the reception, that’s all I care about. If anything good happens at the ceremony, I’ll see the video.”

I was choked up again, but hardly had time to dwell on it. I wanted nothing more than to let go and have a good cry with Bev in the bathroom, but that would have to wait for later.

The robe fit Bev better than her dress fit me, but I didn’t care. Between the gaping dress, the extra roomy shoes, the lack of any makeup or hairspray and the zipper of stitches across my eyebrow, I was surely quite a sight. But it didn’t matter; I was so grateful to my friend for what she had just done for me. I gave her a quick hug, leaving her in the bathroom (she wanted to wait for the lobby to clear before she headed up to the honeymoon suite in the borrowed robe) before I rushed out to find Susan and the bridal coordinator.

Nate met me in the lobby and nodded his approval before he pointed toward a long hallway to the right of the lobby. “They’re all in there.”

“Thanks,” I said, skipping into a jog, trying to expand the toes into Bev’s size eight and a half shoes. The last thing I needed now was to fall flat on my face. Again.

“I’ll see you in there,” Nate called after me. I waved behind me and was almost around the corner before I heard him add, “You look great, by the way.”

I didn’t believe him, but it was nice of him to say anyway.

* * *

When I rounded the corner, I almost ran right into Jacob Weinman where he stood along with the rest of the wedding party.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” he said, a skeevy grin creeping across his face.

My mouth was open to respond, but before I had the chance, I caught a glimpse of Susan, her smile beaming from ear to ear.

“Oh, Shosh! You’re here,” she exclaimed, stepping toward me. She was truly a beautiful bride, her dress exquisite and her hair and makeup the perfect complement to the special glow which seemed to radiate from within. “You okay?” Her brow scrunched as she tipped her head back to inspect my wound.

I nodded, avoiding Jacob’s glance. He looked different from the last time I saw him, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction by looking at him. Not that it mattered anyway; I was there with Nate, hot guy extraordinaire.

“And Bev’s dress fits you well enough,” she looked me up and down approvingly. In my peripheral vision, I could see her son doing the same. Yuck. At least Jen had the decency not to even bother feigning interest; she was halfway down the hall reading brochures for tourist attractions.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

She smiled. “He’s just stepped into the bathroom, I think he’s a bit nervous.”

As if on cue, Dad came out of the men’s room, clearing his throat. He saw me and his face brightened. I instantly felt bad for causing him extra stress on his wedding day.

He threw his arms around me, practically crushing me into his chest. “I’m so glad you made it, Shoshanna.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Dad,” I said, mindful of his boutonnière and not wanting to crush it, realizing I almost
did
miss the wedding. I was glad they had talked me into coming. I would have never forgiven myself if I had missed the ceremony.

He pulled away from me and smiled. But thankfully, before I could turn into a slobbering mess again, the wedding coordinator came around the corner, a scowl on her face. In her left hand was her ever-present clipboard, although now it was decorated with some sort of corsage that matched Susan’s bouquet. I wondered if ‘clipboard corsage’ would be itemized on Susan’s bill. In her right hand was a mini version of Susan’s bouquet: white and peach fragrant roses tied into a bunch with a wide satin ribbon. She leaned toward me and pushed the bouquet into my hand. She smelled like she was wearing
eau de
Jack Daniels

She raised her voice to be heard, even though there were only five of us standing in the hallway. Maybe she was seeing double thanks to her coordinator’s little helper. “Okay, people, now that we’re all here, we’re ready to begin. Mr. Rosenblatt, as we rehearsed, you and your daughter are first. Let’s all go to the entrance and I will cue the musicians.”

What would Dad have done if I hadn’t made it to the ceremony? Who would he have walked down the aisle with? Sure, his walking with me wasn’t exactly keeping with tradition, since the groom usually walked down with his parents. But his father was gone and his mother had enough trouble walking that she wouldn’t have made it down the aisle without struggling. I knew she would be sitting in the front row, beaming.

Smiling down at me, my dad took my arm, and like obedient little soldiers, we fell into line.

* * *

“Mazel Tov!” The crowd shouted as one when Dad stomped on the symbolic napkin-wrapped glass (which I found out later was actually a light bulb – the rabbi confided to me that they were not only cheaper but easier to break) signifying the end of the formal part of the ceremony. All of the guests rose to their feet and broke into a rousing, hand-clapping rendition of
Siman Tov, Mazel Tov
as Dad and Susan walked hand in hand back down the aisle, both grinning fit to burst. Jen followed behind, looking like she was painfully constipated. And then, before I could protest, Jacob grabbed my arm, leading me behind them.

I stopped abruptly at the front row, causing Jacob to almost trip, but I didn’t care: there was something very important I needed to do. I untangled my arm from Jacob’s and leaned over to kiss my bubby on the cheek.

“You look very svelte,” I whispered into her ear.

She giggled. “Thank you, dear. I can hardly breathe with this girdle.”

I pulled back and gave her the once-over, nodding approvingly. She winked at me and began to sing and clap with the rest of the crowd.

Snaking my arm back through Jacob’s I continued down the aisle.

On the way by, I looked at Nate. He looked cute clapping his hands along with the crowd, although not surprisingly his lips were closed. It was a bit much to have hoped he would know any Jewish songs. But he did look like he was enjoying himself. I caught his eye and gave him a subtle nod toward the lobby. We needed to hit the road and I needed to get away from mouth-breathing Jacob and fast. Nate nodded and winked back, still clapping along.

Chapter 23

“I’ve never been to a Jewish wedding before, that was really nice,” Nate said as we pulled out of the Jardin.

I had to agree. Other than my own pre-wedding drama, the ceremony had gone off without a hitch. No one had tripped down the aisle, no one protested the nuptials (I glared at Jen the whole time, psychically transmitting promises of dismemberment should she open her mouth) and no one forgot or otherwise flubbed their lines.

Nate and I ended up leaving the hotel a bit later than I had hoped, but it couldn’t be helped. I wanted to make sure I was back well before the buffet got totally picked over. And of course, I would need to be back for the speeches and there was nothing like a rousing hora to burn off some nervous energy, which I had in abundance. But after the ceremony, we had followed Dad and Susan up to the honeymoon suite with a plate of hors d’oeuvres for them and Bev. Dad and Susan promised to keep Bev company, assuring her that they were happy to entertain her in what was supposed to be their first alone time as husband and wife. Traditionally, this was the time to consummate the marriage, but Susan assured Bev that was an old tradition that no one followed anymore. Especially couples who’d already been living together.

“Your best friend isn’t married?” I asked Nate once we were finally in the car.

“Huh?” He turned his head to glance over at me.

“Your best friend. You told me your best friend is Jewish.”

His brow furrowed as he looked at me for another second before looking back to the road. “Oh, uh…no. He’s not married.”

I looked out the window, watching the city lights twinkle and silently wished Nate would drive a little faster.

My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since I snacked on some microwave popcorn while watching
Million Dollar Listing
a hundred hours before. It was turning into the longest day I could ever imagine.

We drove in silence the rest of the way back to my apartment. Nate seemed to be in a funk or deep in thought. Whatever it was, I was too focused on planning out the most efficient use of time once I got into the condo: I needed to dress, slap on some makeup and fix my hair in only minutes to ensure we would be back at the hotel in time to see Dad and Susan introduced and join the crowd in a what was sure to be a rowdy
hora
. I definitely needed to be in my own shoes for that; a girl couldn’t dance a proper
hora
in too-big shoes.

Nate came up to the condo with me despite my protests.

“It won’t take any extra time for me to come with you. I don’t want to sit in the car and I could use a glass of water anyway,” was his reasoning.

Not having the time or energy to argue with him and realizing he’d gone above and beyond and I owed him a lot more than a glass of water, I opened the front door and pointed at the couch as I jogged to the bedroom. I grabbed my own pantyhose off the bed where I had thrown them when Nate had first arrived, and pulled the silver dress off its hanger, taking it with me into the bathroom. Armani was lying on the cool tile, sprawled out on his side. I nudged him with my foot to get him out of my way. That’s when I noticed the several drops of blood on the floor beside him.

Berating myself, I hiked up Bev’s dress, grabbed a Kleenex and bent down to wipe up the blood, thinking I must have missed it before Nate had whisked me away to the hospital. But to my horror, as I got closer to my beloved cat, I noticed more fresh blood under him, pooling at his back end.

“Oh my God, Armani, what’s wrong with you?” I touched his head and he opened his eyes slightly to look at me. He opened his mouth and a faint, ‘meow’ escaped his black lips.

“Nate! Can you come here?” He had to be an air conditioning guy. He couldn’t be a doctor? A veterinarian? Something useful to me on this, the most stressful day of my life?

Glancing into the litterbox, I realized it hadn’t been used much in the last few days. How had I not noticed?

Within seconds, Nate was at my side. “What’s up?”

“Armani’s bleeding, look.” I pointed at the drops of blood. “Do you know anything about cats?”

Nate shrugged. “I know they’re not supposed to leak blood for no reason. Can you actually see where it’s coming from?”

I shook my head. I tried to lift up Armani’s tail, but for the first time, he became very alert, hissing at me.

I quickly retracted my hand. “Oh my God, he’s never hissed at me before. Something’s wrong.” I glanced at the clock. “In the front hall closet is his pet carrier, can you grab it?”

Nodding, Nate left the bathroom, duly dispatched.

“Just hold on buddy, Mommy’s gonna take care of you, somehow.” I stood up and pulled Bev’s dress off over my head, afraid of getting blood on it; Bev was still expecting to wear it once we returned to the hotel. I was able to slip on my robe before Nate returned holding the carrier. Armani, knowing full well that a trip in the carrier always meant a vet visit, made a valiant effort to bolt out of the bathroom, but I was prepared and grabbed him, shoving him unceremoniously into the carrier, head first.