Brooklyn Love (Crimson Romance) (15 page)

“Ooh, these are really good,” Rachel said, reaching for another. “French fries are my favorite food.” She sat down on the worn brown couch, shoving aside a colorful crocheted afghan.

Jacob went over to the easel. It stood in middle of his living room atop a mat of recycled paper, which covered their shaggy green carpet.

“Wow. That’s fantastic, Rachel.” He stared at her painting. “I love those colors. It’s beautiful.”

Rachel smiled.

“But why is the groom just sketched in?” he pointed out.

“I need a male figure to pose,” Rachel answered, moving aside a pile of books as she placed her plate of fries on the teak coffee table. “My dad has no patience, and Daniel has no time for me. Er, I mean, Daniel has no time.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind,” said Jacob and he sat on the plush taupe recliner that faced the couch.

“You’re sure?” Rachel asked.

Jacob shrugged. “Whatever. I doubt I’ll ever understand your community but I won’t hold it against you.” Jacob smiled. “So how should I pose?”

Rachel felt her heart leap. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Ilana nodded as she picked up magazines that had fallen off the coffee table. “It’s true what they say about her, Jacob. She is merciless. You can’t move when she is painting. You can’t even scratch your nose.”

Jacob leaned back in his chair and laughed. “You don’t scare me.”

Rachel was dubious. Even if Jacob could stand it — could she? “It could take hours,” she said. “
Hours
.”

“Look, I have to learn a few tractates of Talmud and go over some notes from my programming class,” said Jacob. “If you let me stand and study, I’m all yours.”

“Really?” That could work, she thought. She could capture the face when he looked up from his text and notes and work on the body when he looked back down. “Okay!”

The doorbell rang. Ilana’s aunt called to her from the door. “It’s Macy, dear.”

Macy came into the living room in his leather jacket, his guitar swung over his back, reeking of cologne. “Hey, Rach, Jake. C’mon Ilana, can’t be late.”

Ilana got up to go, smiling. “A date,” she whispered to Rachel gleefully.

“Have fun!” they called out behind her.

Rachel suddenly felt awkward … excited … miserable. She was alone in a room with Jacob Zohar.

• • •

Leah was home studying, just as she wanted. The only way she was able to study for the upcoming medical school entrance exam was by telling her mother she had computer homework, and that Chaim didn’t seem interested in her. As usual her mother blamed her. But after three disastrous dates, Leah couldn’t dare waste another moment of her precious studying time. It was becoming more and more clear to her that she had to become a doctor, if she ever wanted any freedom. Her Brooklyn friends were concentrating solely on finding husbands, and though Leah wanted the same, she’d decided that this would be a big mistake, as all they’d be doing was shifting their dependence on their parents to their husbands. She was going to be a doctor and that meant a focus and a commitment to medicine first — there’d be time enough for marriage.

She sat at her desk reviewing the same words she’d read the night before. There was so much material to learn; sometimes it seemed endless. She flipped to the next page and the words started to blur, but she didn’t close the book — her MCATs were coming up in April, and she needed to ace the medical school entrance exam. At three
A.M.
, Leah closed her books.

• • •

Ilana tapped her toes and clapped her hands to the beat. She was sitting in a club in Greenwich Village, listening to Macy Kaufman ham it up on the guitar, his blond hair spilling over his blue eyes every time he bent his head to get into his music.

Macy often played at the Blue Note, as the manager there encouraged talented amateurs to play before and after the featured musicians. Some Blue Note players eventually went on to become the featured musicians — and quite a few famous musical artists had the Blue Note to thank as the starting point for their success. But for Macy Kaufman, the gigs were pure fun.

Dancing on the low stage with his guitar, Macy finished his song and cleared his throat. “The next song I’d like to dedicate to the one whose very name is a song.” He moved his head closer to the microphone. “To the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he said. “To Ilana.”

The crowd of young people sitting at their tables downing apple martinis wasn’t paying much attention to Macy, except for Ilana and two women sitting together, who were more than a little smashed. “The word is
woman
, boy,” one of the drunken women shouted. “It is
woman!
”

Macy laughed and then smiled at Ilana as he began to play a slow acoustic version of Eric Clapton’s famous ballad of unrequited love, “Layla.” Only when the lyrics called for the name “Layla,” he substituted “Ilana.”

With this song the crowd became more attentive, and soon everybody was singing along.

Ilana blushed, her body swaying to the rhythm and her heart full of happiness.
He’s wonderful. He’s absolutely wonderful,
she thought, and sang along.

Being with Macy, she had never felt so complete.

• • •

Macy finished singing and the crowd cheered him on.

Usually, he’d keep playing for the adulation, but now he wanted to get back to Ilana. Though they’d just met, he couldn’t stand being away from her.

The crowd continued to clap and whistle, encouraging Macy to return for one more song.

He stood at the edge of the stage and gazed through the hot, blinding spotlights at Ilana.

She’s so true,
Macy thought.
So real and honest.

The crowd began stamping their feet in unison, demanding another song.

Smiling, Ilana returned Macy’s gaze.

She’s caring and sensitive. She’s kind. And God, she is so beautiful — in every way.
Macy turned to face the crowd, and in an exaggerated pose, he blew them all a huge kiss. He had to get back to Ilana. He needed her. He wanted to be with her. Always.

“That was beautiful, Macy!” Ilana said as he sat down next to her.

“Yeah, well you have to say that. I dedicated it to you!” He laughed and threw some peanuts from the table into his mouth.

“No. I don’t have to. I could have said it was miserable, you play terribly and — ”

“Okay! I’ll take the compliment!” Had he known her forever?

“But I bet you play that song for all the girls you date.”

Macy blushed. “Well, maybe I do. But I don’t change the name.”

Ilana rotated the straw in her drink and laughed. “Caught you. I knew you’d played that before.”

Macy leaned back in his wooden chair. “Yeah, but I’ll never play it again — with any other name but yours, that is.” He laughed with her and briefly caught her gaze as they sipped their drinks. Where had she been all his life? He had never felt so complete before. So natural and uncomplicatedly happy.

On Monday morning, Rachel awoke to the shrill ringing of her telephone.

“It’s me,” said the brusque voice on the other end.

“Daniel?” After Saturday night’s fiasco, she was surprised that he would call her again.

“I wanted to apologize. I acted like a jerk.”

Was this the same guy from Saturday night?

“We need to talk. I’ll be by in an hour.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m telling you. I’ve got a lot of work coming up this week. The only time I can see you is now.”

“Daniel, I don’t think so — ”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he interrupted.

“Our date didn’t go well at all!” Rachel had told her father all about it, but she didn’t dare mention the date to her mother. Nor did she say anything about Jacob posing for her painting. What was the point of telling them?

“I said I was sorry. Could you have the decency to let me explain in person?”

“What do you need to explain? That you don’t like to laugh?” “Stiff,” her father had called Daniel. It seemed like the appropriate word choice.

Daniel paused. “I like to laugh — when a joke is funny. But that’s beside the point.”

Rachel sighed. “Daniel, I don’t know. I have to get to school. I have to turn in a project.”

“So I’ll drive you. I’m coming in from the Island. Wait for me.”

The phone went dead.

Rachel washed up, solemnly said her morning prayers, and dressed, thinking about a future with Daniel. He was acting bossy, and she didn’t like that. Jacob Zohar would never treat her that way …
No, banish that thought. Concentrate on Daniel.
If she wanted a sharp, tough husband — someone to fight her battles, to take care of her — she couldn’t expect him to be sweet. Besides, Daniel did want to apologize for that awful date, and maybe something she’d said or did had set him off. Maybe they could work it out. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could learn how to deal with his moods. Her father always said that all relationships require work. And after all, Daniel was a catch.

Exactly an hour after she’d hung up the phone, the doorbell rang.

“Are you ready?” Daniel stood at the door.

“Guess so. As ready as ever.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail. She wore no makeup, a red mock turtleneck sweater, and a straight denim skirt.

“A new look?” Daniel nodded at her outfit as they walked to his Porsche.

After Saturday night, like you deserve me primping for you?
she wanted to say. Instead she responded, “I dress casually for school, Daniel.”

“I could wait for you to change.”

“I don’t want to change.”

“You look a little pale. I don’t mind waiting for you to fix your makeup.”

“I’m happy the way I am.”

“Sure, sure.” Daniel held the car door open for her.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Rachel shut the car door as she got in.

“Look, I was in a bad mood the other night. Don’t take it personally. I’ve been under a lot of stress at work, and then seeing Frisch … We’re close buddies, but we have a history. He thought you were cute, by the way.”

Rachel blushed.

“He said, ‘Daniel, if you don’t go for her, I will.’”

Rachel’s cheeks turned the color of her sweater. “So you wanted to see me again because your friend liked me?”

Daniel blanched. “No, no. Nothing like that. Nothing like that at all.”

“Daniel, what are you telling me?”

“I’m telling you that while we see some things differently, I believe this relationship has potential.”

Lawyers!
“Why?”

Daniel sighed. “Our backgrounds are compatible and we look good together.”

Rachel looked out the car window.

Daniel spoke quietly. “You are beautiful, Rachel. I like having you by my side.”

Like a fashion accessory to go with the Porsche?
Rachel almost said, but she stopped herself. “You want to date me because you think I’m beautiful?”

Daniel shrugged. “You have a better reason?”

Rachel sighed.

“So I’m saying I want to get to know you. Look, I have to make a lot of decisions all the time. And I pride myself on being able to make logical, detached decisions. But since I met you, nothing has been logical. Nothing. Not one thing. I think maybe you are my
basherte.
I need to get to know you better, Rachel.”

“I don’t know how I feel,” Rachel said finally.

“Tell me you’ll consider me seriously,” Daniel said as he dropped her off at school. “Because I want to take this relationship to the next level.”

• • •

Leah fingered the condom in her hand and wondered what she was going to do with it. She’d been on her way to the cafeteria in the Student Center when a perky volunteer from the “Safe Sex and Information Club” pressed the condom into her hand.

“You can never be too safe,” the young woman said cheerfully as she continued walking along the campus handing out more condoms.

Leah saw a classmate, Linda, walking toward her and quickly stuffed the unwanted gift in her pocket. How would she explain what an Orthodox virgin was doing with a condom?
The volunteer pushed it in my hand!
Sure, sure, Leah.

But wait. She was going to be a doctor. Surely she shouldn’t be embarrassed by something like this. Still, she looked for a garbage can to throw it into. But what if somebody saw her throw it in? Then they’d wonder what she was doing with it in the first place.

Linda was heading toward the cafeteria. Leah knew Linda had a boyfriend and wasn’t religious. Should she offer Linda the condom? No, that would be bizarre. Beyond bizarre. She’d just keep it in her pocket for now until she figured out how to dispose of it. But what if she forgot it was in her pocket and her mother did her laundry and found it? She would probably make her drop out of college. Or what if it stuck out of her pocket and Jacob noticed it in class? She didn’t want to think about that.

It wasn’t even noon yet, but Leah was hungry. She chose a salad from the kosher section of the cafeteria. The cafeteria had a pungent odor of fresh disinfectant mixed with the smells of cooked food, punctuated by the distinct reek of marijuana and un-showered students.

“How’d the programming quiz go?” Linda asked Leah as she rifled through her purse for her meal card.

“I have to buckle down for the exam.” Leah was having trouble with all of her computer classes, but she pushed herself to do well.

Linda took her tray and invited Leah to join her.

“Sukkoth is coming up. Do you have plans for the holiday?” Linda asked.

Linda was Jewish, though not Orthodox. Her parents probably knew about her boyfriend. Maybe her mother had even talked to Linda about sex. Leah blushed at the thought of having that conversation with her mother. They barely talked these days, anyway.

“I was planning on staying home for Sukkoth,” Leah finally answered. “Do you have plans?”

“Andrew and I will be staying with friends at Columbia and Barnard. It’s going to be a blast there, with all the singing and dancing.”

Simchat Torah was a big social scene on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, with thousands of Jewish singles mingling over the holiday. Leah was done with dating right now, but the festivities did sound like fun.