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For example: meeting David at the temple because it was more convenient for him that way.
She pulled into the parking space next to his SUV and turned off her car engine. She was being ridiculous, she thought, there was no reason to feel nervous about this. She was meeting him at his job. This was like walking into a bank if she was dating the head banker. The thought made her wince when it automatically made her think about balance sheets.
“Fuck, Bax needs to go over accounting basics with me again,” she muttered, flipping the visor down to inspect her face. She looked fine, not glamorous, not overdone, but her makeup was in place and her eyeliner wasn’t crooked. After a day of recovering a truly hideous button-tufted living room suite she would take what she could get.
She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and got out of the car. The parking lot was basically empty. It was one of the reasons she’d been okay with meeting him here. It wasn’t a Hebrew school day. The possibility of running into a crowd of people was relatively small. She bit her lip. Kathy was still here. She could see the older secretary moving around in her office.
Good thing, too, because Shoshana wouldn’t have gotten in otherwise. She’d forgotten that they used a buzzer to let people into the offices and the school areas. She smiled through the window at the woman, hoping she didn’t look wild-eyed. Kathy gave her a neutral tilt of her head. Shoshana chewed her thumbnail, wondering if she should ask where David was, or if she should just take off like she knew what she was doing.
Kathy put her out of her misery, nodding her head down the long hallway.
“Rabbi Freedman finished with his last rehearsal about twenty minutes ago. He’s still in the sanctuary, you can go on back.”
“Oh, great, thank you,” Shoshana said, breathing a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to fumble for small talk.
“I like your hair,” Kathy said, her attention back on her computer screen. Her fingers clicked over the keyboard as though she hadn’t spoken.
“I--thank you?” Shoshana said, not sure she’d heard correctly. In middle school, this same woman had suggested she consider a wig for her bat mitzvah because she’d used food coloring and conditioner to dye streaks of blue in her pixie cut.
“The pinks suit you,” Kathy said, looking up from her computer to consider Shoshana owlishly through her oversized glasses, “They bring out the color of your eyes.”
“That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you, I appreciate it,” Shoshana said, shock making her more honest than she normally would be. Kathy sniffed, her face saying she knew very well that Shoshana was right, but she wasn’t going to rise to the bait. She decided to simply accept the compliment instead of pressing old hurts.
“You’re welcome,” Kathy said, then, as an afterthought. Shoshana had gotten a few steps down the hall, so Kathy called after her, “If he’s not in the sanctuary he’s probably in his dressing room, he likes to read in there.”
“I appreciate it,” Shoshana said, because Kathy had just saved her a headache. She forgot that the dressing room even existed.
If she’d gone to the sanctuary and he’d been gone, she could have easily spent an hour searching the bowels of the place because texting was useless on that side of the building. The reception was terrible. She kept walking down the hall. Even though it was late afternoon, half of the lights had been turned off to conserve energy and the empty classrooms were almost spooky.
She quickened her pace as she passed the library, not wanting to look at the memorial plaque with her father’s name. It was silly to obsess over, but she still hated it. With the exception of that Shabbat, the library’s dedication had been the last time she’d been inside this building on purpose in at least a decade.
The calm of the sanctuary felt like a deep breath she didn’t know she needed to take.
She stepped through the doors and took in the empty space. Kathy worked hard to make it fresh every week, picking up forgotten prayer books, refolding tallitot, salvaging kippot for the communal basket. It meant that on an evening like this, the place felt peaceful and ready. Waiting. She looked at the memorial boards on the wall. Hundreds of small brass plaques with names and dates. Little lights next to each one to be turned on for the person’s yahrzeit. Her feet took her to the place without her having to think about it.
Her hand covered the plaque, the sensitive pads of her fingers taking in the feel of the Hebrew letters as she recited the date in her mind.
“I thought that was you!” An older, heavily accented voice said. Shoshana jumped, hoping the person was talking to someone else. But no, there was Evelyn Haas, looking entirely pleased with herself. She had a face so crosshatched with wrinkles it was almost impossible to ascertain her age. But her hair was full and curly and very red around her face, and her glasses were incredibly edgy. She adjusted her shawl on her shoulders. “It’s not your mother’s yahrzeit for a few weeks, yet.”
“No, it’s not,” Shoshana said, lifting her fingers from the cool brass, feeling a little self-conscious at being caught like this. “I haven’t looked at that plaque in years.”
“Well, you have to be here to look at it,” Evelyn said, an impish smile on her face.
“That… is very true,” Shoshana said, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She looked at Evelyn’s penciled-in eyebrows. When Shoshana and Baxter had gotten the idea to redo Goldman’s, Evelyn had been their first regular customer. The woman had an eccentric sense of style, and rather than buying new furniture every few seasons, she just paid them to redo the old. It would have been simpler, and cheaper, to invest in slip covers. But Shoshana suspected it was Evelyn’s way of helping without being obvious about it.
“I heard Baxter is leaving you,” Evelyn said. She was a smoker in her youth and the years of chain smoking left their mark. Her voice was croaky, like an amused raven. Her voice was all Staten Island. Shoshana worshipped her cork-soled Espadrilles.
“I’m still processing. He leaves in a little over a week,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the yahrzeit wall.
“Well, you’ve never had to run the joint by yourself before, that’s a big job,” Evelyn said, her perceptive eyes taking in everything from the green highlighter ink staining Shoshana’s fingers, to the loose fitting, billowy dress she wore. “But you can handle it.”
“You’re very kind to say that” Shoshana said, meaning it. She had zero faith in her ability to be half the clerk Baxter was.
“I’m old, honey, it’s not kind. It’s honest. You’ll figure it out,” she said, patting Shoshana’s elbow firmly three times. Shoshana smirked because she couldn’t help herself.
“What are you doing here, anyway? Is there a meeting or something?”
“Oh, there’s always a meeting,” Evelyn said, her tone airy. She waved a liver-spotted hand. “We’re working on a regular workshop for the seniors. Old people seniors, not teenager seniors. The teenagers can take care of themselves.”
