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“Again, you’d be surprised,” Leah said closing the display case and pulling the plastic gloves off. She dumped them in the trashcan under the counter and put her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t joking earlier; Abi is shit at knowing when to ask for help. She does the older sibling thing where she thinks she has to do everything by herself. I’m pretty sure my dad has been trying to get her to go to therapy for ages, but in addition to not asking for help, she also doesn’t pick up on subtlety, like,at allwhen it’s directed at her. So, my parents are getting more explicit about it, and it’s fucking with her head.”
“Why do your parents think she should be in therapy?” Ilan said, feeling as though perhaps Leah was telling him a lot more about Abigail Meyer than Abigail Meyer would want Leah to be telling him.
“Well, you know dad is a shrink, right?” Leah said, when Ilan nodded, she waved her hand in front of her as though that explained everything. At his blank look, she looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Have you not been paying attention? My sister is so type-a that she has a meltdown if her very specific yellow highlighter runs out of ink in the middle of a project. She’s so independent that she’s practically her own country. She won’t ask for help if the house is on fire. Is it odd that my father, the award-winning mental health professional has noticed these things might be a problem for her?”
“Excellent point,” Ilan said. “Does she know you’re telling me all this?”
“Dude, absolutely not. Don’t be a shnook,” Leah said. She was putting together four travel cartons for coffee, and she froze as though a thought suddenly occurred to her and glanced at him over her shoulder, “I think you can guess what’ll happen if she finds out?”
“Murder?”
“In. The. Face.”
* * *
“So, what’s the deal with you and Coleslaw?” Simcha Hallerman said as soon as David had given the closing benediction and the last strains ofOseh Shalomhad faded. Abi closed her eyes and counted to three under her breath before turning around to see Simcha leaning over the pew, so close to Abi she could smell her expensive perfume.
Something spicy, with orange undertones.
Abi was immediately annoyed, both because her relationship with Ilan was none of Simcha’s business and because she rarely attended morning Shabbat services in the first place. She was only here this time because one of her old students from the preschool was having his bar mitzvah, and he’d specifically asked her to attend. There was just something about getting a personal invitation from an awkward, thirteen-year-old kid, you didn’t turn that down.
Sure, he was probably only asking her to pad the gift registry, but she wasn’t going to say no. He worked hard, and he deserved to be celebrated. So, here she was, dressed to impress, a card with a gift card for a video game store inside (she checked with his mom first). She could suffer through the service and the luncheon after, no problem. But she wasn’t prepared to also suffer Simcha Hallerman on whatever power trip she was currently on too. That was a bit too far.
“I think it’s a little creepy you’re this concerned about what I keep in my refrigerator, Simcha,” Abi said, her tone as even as she could possibly make it. If Simcha was going to do this, then Abi was going to pretend ignorance and make her spell out exactly what she was talking about. In front of witnesses.
“Oh, come on,” Simcha scoffed, tossing her perfectly curled hair off her face. “You know what I’m trying to say.”
“I really don’t, though, is this some new diet thing?” Abi said, her eyes flicking to the aisle to nod at an older couple as they walked by. Abi didn’t recognize them, so she thought they must be relatives of the bar mitzvah family. They nodded back so they must have appreciated the acknowledgement. Simcha’s daughter had already taken off for the hall, bypassing the receiving line entirely to make for the dessert table. That little girl knew how to utilize a sugar high.
“Abi,” Simcha said, her tone pointed. Abi wasn’t sure if her point was that Abi was being an obtuse jerk or if it was more that she should know what Simcha was talking about. She did, but she wasn’t going to admit it. If anything it only hardened her resolve.
She remembered the look on Ilan’s face when he’d explained the comment. Abi knew enough about schoolyard bullies to know that Simcha needn’t have used the turn of phrase more than once to make an impact. Once was just enough in the right set of circumstances.
“Simcha,” Abi said back, and there must have been just enough steel in her eyes for Simcha to get the hint. The other woman rolled her eyes and scoffed.
“Ugh, don’t tell me you too,” she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and made a show of waggling her fingers at someone behind Abi’s shoulder. Abi managed not to roll her eyes.
“Me too, what,” Abi said, then smiled tightly, “Really, Simcha, I hope your smart device is logging your steps, the way you’re dancing around what you’re trying to say.”
“Cute,” Simcha said, a sneer creeping into her face.
“Miss Abi!” the familiar tiny voice cut through the conversation and the transformation on Simcha’s face was almost unbelievable. Abi shook her head but turned away to see Dani Freedman bound up the aisle, the familiar two-headed cat wedged under one arm. David followed her at a distance, but he smiled a greeting as well.
“Hi there, Rabbi Freedman,” Simcha said, stepping out from behind the pew. Abi chuckled, shaking her head again as she bent down to greet Dani and make a show of shaking both Pinchos and Herman’s hands. Dani clearly appreciated this and her small mouth twisted in disdain when Simcha ignored the stuffed animal as she held it out to the other woman to do the same. Abi realized David and Simcha were talking and straightened to join the conversation.
“I was just telling Ms Hallerman that you two looked like you were having a serious discussion,” David told Abi, one eyelid twitching in the barest hint of a wink. Abi almost laughed out loud. David could play synagogue politics as well as anyone, but he wasn’t above making fun of the process.
“Abi was just telling me how much she loves the new Haggadah ideas for the preschool. I said we should put our heads together to figure out how to entice our smart new rabbi over to our side,” Simcha said smoothly, as though Abi weren’t standing right there. As though Abi didn’t know full well that David told this woman weeks ago the Haggadot she wanted to use wasn’t going to fly. As though part of why he’d said no in the first place was because Abi told him she didn’t want to use them. Abi felt her blood pressure start to spike.
“That definitely sounds like something I would say,” Abi said, hoping the sarcasm wasn’t enough to frighten Pinchos or Herman.
“So, what were you really talking about,” David said, his grin showing he wasn’t going to rise to Simcha’s bait either. “Or am I not allowed to know?”
“Oh, Simcha was giving me diet advice,” Abi said, giving David a grin she was sure was slightly less than terrifying, “either that or she’s trying to start something over my boyfriend.”
She wasn’t sure where that second bit came from, but saying it out loud made her stomach flutter. David was looking at her, a little shocked maybe, and Abi understood why, they’d known each other more than six months, and this was the first time she was mentioning a boyfriend. Simcha’s face made Abi wish she could take a picture.
“Boyfriend,” David said, and Abi wanted to rush to tell him not to make a thing of it when he saw Sho next, but she knew it was useless to expect him to keep anything from Shoshana. Well, that wasn’t quite right. She knew good and well he kept plenty of details from Shoshana, but those things were about congregants, not about, like, Shoshana’s friends. And it wasn’t as though Abi were telling him this in confidence. Simcha Hallerman was right there, and saying anything in front of Simcha was pretty much a guarantee that the thing was going to be currency at some point.
