“Judah? You okay?”
Judah looked up from where he was putting away his tallis and tefillin and saw Jeff Halpern, probably the nicest guy at this minyan—if not the entire Upper East Side—giving him a friendly smile tinged with concern. “Yes, great,” he lied, pasting on his best crowd-pleasing smile. “Why do you ask?”
Jeff laughed kindly. “Because I’ve tried talking to you about four times. I was trying not to take it personally.”
First God couldn’t get his full attention, now Jeff. Judah was officially a mess. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere. Late night.”
“Oh? Do anything fun?”
Well, my little brother’s mind-blowingly hot friend blew me in a bar bathroom last night, and it’s probably the greatest thing that willever happen to me in my entire life, but I can’t even imagine how drastically your opinion of me would change if I told you that.“My brother’s birthday party,” he said instead. “Have you and Maya managed to get out since the baby was born?”
“Any day now,” Jeff said with crossed fingers and a laugh, slipping his tallis into its bag. “Who got you for Pesach this year?”
“A program in Playa del Carmen. Should be nice.”
Jeff grinned. “I’ll say. I’ve heard incredible things about that one. Is it true they have barbecuesanddairy options every day?”
“Just what I need,” Judah said, patting his flat stomach as Jeff laughed. Not that Judah ever overindulged, but he knew the correct answers to shul small talk whether they applied to him or not, the way he knew “Here Comes the Bride” was a perfect fourth, though it was never played at Jewish weddings. (And considering it was actually “Treulich geführt” from the operaLohengrinby Richard Wagner, possibly the best-known antisemite in the history of music, that wasn’t likely to change.)
The extensive food offerings had been part of the pitch when Judah was weighing it against other invitations from all over the world, along with the hotel’s four swimming pools (which he’d probably never use), private beach (ditto), and tennis courts (yep). In truth, he’d only picked it because it was the highest-paying offer and came with a first-class seat, but he certainly wouldn’t be suffering.
He’d just be… alone. Flying alone. Sleeping alone. Most likely not eating alone, but he knew from past experience it would often feel that way—sitting at a table of families, the token single guy being asked whether he was seeing anyone and what he did for Shabbos meals.
He asked Jeff politely about his plans, and they chatted for a few more minutes before Jeff headed home and Judah went downstairs to the Beit Midrash for his thrice-weekly chavrusa. The thought of sitting down to learn Talmud right now exhausted Judah to thebone, but he and Nate were so close to the end of Mesekhet Sanhedrin that Judah couldn’t bring himself to bail.
As he descended slowly to the book-lined study room, his thoughts continued to nag at him. He could understand being physically attracted to Arielle Becker (boy, could he), and he knew heaven and earth couldn’t have stopped him from kissing her that day in Aleah’s bridal suite. He could even understand going to Akiva’s party knowing she’d be there, a temptation in a miniskirt.
But one thing in his brain had been clawing at him harder than any of the Talmudic debates he’d had in the room he was about to enter: the fact that he’d started it.
Sure, Ari’d come over to flirt, but what could he possibly have been thinking, telling her his mind was under her skirt? What possessed him to tell her that he took care of himself before the party? Even doing it in the first place had been wildly uncharacteristic, something he’d only done a half-hearted handful (no pun intended) of times back in high school. But he’d found himself standing in the shower, thinking about that kiss, that car ride—her horny response to hearing he wanted to rip into that pink satin—and he couldn’t help wondering what would’ve happened if he just… had. If they’d done more than kiss in the bridal suite. And before he even knew what was happening, he was bracing himself on the tile and letting it all out, literally and figuratively.
He didn’t recognize this version of himself, but he didn’t hate it, either. He knew in the corner of his brain that he should feel guilty and repentant, promising he’d do better in the future. Hewasshomer, had always behaved with religious propriety, and had planned to adhere to it until his wedding night. But it had seldom been a conscious thought, a true intention; it was just… default, like everything else in his personal life.
His existence had started to feel like a depressing movie he was watching through someone else’s eyes because there was nothing else on; even seeing his professional career take off couldn’t fix it.Weddings were becoming unbearable, traveling was increasingly lonely, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sung something romantic and felt a single emotion about it.
In truth, a part of him had felt like it was slowly dying for a while now, and it was hard to beat himself up about the first thing to excite him in years.
He took a deep breath and walked into the Beit Midrash, exchanging friendly greeting nods with the other men in the room before taking a seat across from Nate, who gave him a big smile. “Hey, Judah! You have a good weekend?”
Judah closed his eyes and inwardly groaned. It was going to be a long, long day.
Chapter Ten
When Judah’d asked Akiva where he wanted to go for breakfast, he’d been thinking along the lines of bagels. Waffles. Maybe a stack of pancakes. But Akiva’d declared the only thing he wanted was ice cream, and that’s how they ended up with Akiva sitting over a massive sundae, Judah poking at a cup of vanilla frozen yogurt.
“You have fun last night?” Judah asked, taking a small bite.
“Oh, yeah, I had a great time. Thanks again for coming—it was cool to see you there, even if my friends were a little disappointed you didn’t perform any Elvis.”
Judah smiled briefly at the joke and dug back into his yogurt. He hadn’t had a lot of one-on-one time with Akiva in the last few years, and it sometimes felt as if there was a gulf between them. When was the last time he had taken his little brother out for ice cream? Or invited him to a concert? Or just talked to him about nothing?
“Did you have a good time?” Akiva prodded.
“Oh, yeah, it was fun.” He ordered his brain not to flash through a montage of images from the night before again. “Your friends are nice.”
“Yeah, I saw you talking to Ari. Sorry if she was giving you shit about Bella’s wedding. That girl can hold a grudge for years.”
Judah froze, wondering just how much Akiva had seen. But no, there was no way he knew anything; he sounded way too casual. “She wasn’t,” he said airily, or at least he hoped that’s how it came out. “Anyway, I’ve seen her since then. She’s a popular choice for bridesmaid.”
