Playing With Matches (27 page)

That night Professor K. and Esther got engaged.

The announcement on MazelTovNation was short on details. They were after all, three times as old as the typical couples on the site. I should have been happy, but what did it matter anymore? The
l’chaim
— a small and impromptu engagement party — was going to be held at the home of one of the board members of Moriah.

Dahlia hadn’t been at school and her cell phone went straight to voicemail, and frankly this news was too important to text. I was still alone with this knowledge of Esther’s identity.

At home, Leah wasn’t making eye contact with me. She had told Matchmaven that she needed a break from dating, that she needed some time to recover from the humiliation and the pain of Jake. With Professor K. busy with Mrs. Levine, Tamara away, Leah cutting me off, and Dahlia sick, I felt completely lost. I was down to Bubby.

The worst thing of all was the nagging fear that Mr. Sacks might not make it.

The night of the
l’chaim
, I had to force myself to get dressed for a party. I had little desire to sit around with five senior citizens and discuss the upcoming wedding. I also didn’t really know how to relate to Mrs. Levine/Esther anymore. On top of that, Leah was probably going to beat herself up over the fact that two seniors could find love but she couldn’t.

While Aunt Mira and Leah finished dressing, I threw on a black pencil skirt and a maroon cardigan and trudged to the family room hoping to find Bubby.

Thankfully, she was watching a ball game, the voice of an unfamiliar announcer filling the room.
“It’s a clear sky today at Citi Field. The temperature is a balmy seventy degrees in New York City.”
The only image of New York my head could conjure right now was Mr. Sacks lying in some random hospital there.

“It’s just the Mets,” Bubby said dismissively.

“I wish I was there,” I said out loud.

Bubby glanced at me, and then turned back to the TV where the pitcher was releasing a cut fastball. Applause filled the stadium as the ball sailed past the batter. The catcher finally marched up to the mound and huddled with the pitcher. The batter wiggled his thighs and sliced the air with his bat a few times while he waited for the catcher to finish conferring with the pitcher.

Instead of improving my mood, the game just taunted me and stoked the ache that was in my heart.

The catcher was done now and he strode past home plate and crouched down on his haunches. A forkball came next and narrowly missed the bat, much to the crowd’s delight. The camera then zoomed to the catcher, whose gloved hand stretched below his left knee while he quickly flicked out four fingers with the other.

“What a pain,” I blurted out, helpless to the growing misery that was drowning me.

“What are you talking about?” Bubby said.

“Well, what if there’s a runner on second?” I said. “He could
see
the catcher.”

She threw up her hands in annoyance. “What’s the matter with you? You know they always change the signals.”

“Well, when you think about it, it’s a lot of effort to go through when you could just communicate directly.” What
was
the matter with me?

I shifted on the couch, uncomfortable in every position. We watched in silence for a few minutes, until Bubby turned to me.

“You know, Raina,” she said in a quiet voice. “You don’t always need to go to the mound.”

I bit my lip.

She turned her gaze back to the TV. “We’re probably going to leave soon anyway,” she said.

I sprang up from the couch. “I’ll be two minutes.”

“Sure you will,” she said. “I’ll tell Mira you have the runs.”

I bounded up the stairs to the bathroom, slammed the door behind me, then began searching for names of random hospitals in New York City. A force of energy overcame me as I started jotting down numbers. Maybe I could do a long-distance apology.

“Rain.” Mira rapped on the door. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. You okay?”

“Be right there,” I said.

I searched for more phone numbers: Lennox Hill, Mount Sinai, and Columbia Presbyterian. I started calling. Mordechai Sacks wasn’t at any of those hospitals.

No matter. I kept dialling until I was down to my last hospital when another loud knock jarred me.

“Raina!” It was Mira. “Uncle Eli and I are heading out to the car.”

“One second,” I said. The fact was that my work with Professor K. and Esther was done. None of it mattered.

My hand shook as I pressed the screen on the phone for my last hospital, New York General.

I ran the faucet so nobody could hear me talking. I dialled the number. I found him. It was like hitting cardiac jackpot at New York General Hospital.

Mr. Sacks was in the coronary care unit. “Can I please speak to Mordechai Sacks? This is his daughter.” Spoken like the true liar that I’d become.

“Hold the line, please.”

“Hello?” a woman said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, my grandfather, Mordechai Sacks, is in the intensive care unit. Can I speak to him?”

“People in the unit don’t usually have conversations,” she said. “Who did you say you were?”

“I’m calling for my mother,” I said. “Her father — my grandfather — is in the unit. Mordechai Sacks.”

“Hang on,” she said.

A male voice finally got on the line.

“Hello?”

“Is this … Mr. Sacks?” I said.

There was a pause. The sound of beeping could be heard in the background.

“Hello?” I repeated.

“Who is this?” the man said.

“It’s Rain, Raina Resnick. I had sent Mr. Sacks a letter and I’d like to talk to him.”

After another hesitation he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry to tell you this,” he said. “But my great-uncle passed away a few hours ago.”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“His heart gave out in his sleep,” he said. It felt like the air was being suctioned out of my lungs. And it hurt. It hurt so badly. I crossed my arms and hugged myself and dropped to the floor. But the floor wasn’t low enough for me.

“Are you okay?” the man on the phone said. “Are you still there?”

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand.

“I … I wanted to speak to him,” I said. “I was his student. It was me. He … he was fired. I …” Between the sobbing and hiccupping it was impossible to communicate. I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I was the one who sat down at the computer before he logged off his server,” I said. “I sent those emails from his name. It was me that got him fired and then he got the heart condition and now he’s —” My chest began heaving again.

“No, no, no. Please, stop.” He actually chuckled. “I’m not sure who you are, but you did
not
kill my great uncle. Nor did you get him fired. He was supposed to retire a year and a half ago, but the school insisted that he stay on for another year.”

“What?”

“He was doing them a favour the last year that he taught. And his heart condition? He’s had that for years.”

“But I embarrassed him,” I said in a voice that seemed to come from a distant place.

“What’s your name?”

“Raina Resnick.”

“That name sounds familiar.” I felt the back of my neck heat up.

“Wait, I know. I’ve been going through the stuff in his apartment the last few weeks. I just might have seen an envelope with your name on it, but there was no address. I’ve got three boxes full of papers in my van. I was just going to dump it all out. I sure wouldn’t have known how to send it to you. Let me check.”

“Please … do you think you could go down to your car and look for the envelope?”

“The funeral’s in a couple of hours.” I should have known that. The burial traditionally takes place as soon as possible.

“Oh,” I said in a quivering voice.

“Obviously this is important to you and maybe this is something that Uncle Mordechai wanted taken care of before he was buried. Give me your phone and email address. If I find anything I’ll mail —”

“No. Could you read it?”

“That urgent?” he said. “Fine. If you don’t mind me looking. How about this, I’ll read it to you and then mail it. Is that okay?”

“Thank you,” I sobbed.

“Rain,” Aunt Mira was yelling. “If you can’t go just tell me but this is just plain rude. We have to go
now
.”

“I have to go now,” I whispered. “Can I ask your name?”

“Simon,” he said. “I’ll try to call you soon.”

I wiped my eyes, opened the bathroom door, and descended the stairs behind her. Bubby had my coat in her hands and handed it to me. We walked into the biting winter night and I slipped into the seat next to Bubby with Leah following me. I put my phone on vibrate and held it, so I could answer immediately if Simon called.

Aunt Mira and Uncle Eli were chattering about how nice it was for one of the board members of Moriah to host the gathering tonight.

When we entered the house I gasped at the scene. The entire main floor was filled with people. The small
l’chaim
for five guests had turned into an engagement party worthy of Tamara and Jeremy. There had to be over a hundred people crammed into the main floor. Even though it was a mile away from the Bernsteins’ house, it was the same model. The dining room table was covered with platters of bagels, lox, and cheeses, as well as pastries and fruit.

It was impossible to get through the crush of people so I took a shortcut through the kitchen. A familiar face was there playing with two small children. He was tall — over six feet — with brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. He was twentysomething and wore black dress pants and a white button-down shirt.

“Ari! Again!” A little boy stretched his arms up to the tall man. “Again!”

Ari scooped up the boy and tossed him in the air with a laugh. I stood transfixed. I had seen him somewhere before.

“Me too, Ari!”

Ari gently put down the boy and picked up the tiny girl and raised her in the air. Both children squealed with delight.

“Ari,” someone called out. “
Zayda
is going to speak now!”

Professor K.’s grandson! I had seen his photograph many times in Professor K.’s living room as well as in the photo album. Ari straightened himself up and patted the boy on the shoulder. “If there’s time, I’ll read you a story later,” Ari said.

The front door slammed with yet more guests arriving. It was starting to feel like the Number 7 bus in here.

“Rain!” It was Aunt Mira. “Professor Kellman is waiting for you.” Ari smiled at me.

I entered the living room and worked my way next to Bubby. I glanced back at the kitchen to see if I could check out Ari some more and noted Dahlia stood at the entrance, waving at me. Finally, she was better! I swiped a brownie off the table and held it up to Dahlia. We exchanged an understanding glance. The brownie was useless — it was
baked
, for heaven’s sake.

Professor K. was speaking now. For just one minute I was going to try to enjoy their happiness. “I am so thrilled,” he said. “I never dreamt I’d find this kind of happiness at this stage of my life.”

Mira, who stood next to me, gave me a hug. “It’s so wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Esther Levine is my dream girl,” Professor K. said, as he gazed lovingly at her. “Sometimes it’s worth it to wait a long time for your soul mate.”

I glanced around the table. The last thing Leah needed was to hear a seventy-five-year-old celebrate that he finally met his soul mate. She stood at the edge of the table with a bagel on her plate, but didn’t seem to be reacting at all.

I took a bite out of the brownie as Professor K. continued his speech. “And it never, ever would have happened without the efforts of a very special person.”

I stopped chewing.

“And I need to express gratitude to that wonderful person.”

My heart hammered inside me. Was he about to thank me, or the anonymous email account?

“Matchmaven!” he practically shouted.

So that was it. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Let’s all raise our glasses to Matchmaven,” he said.

I could feel beads of sweat form on my forehead as everyone shouted
“l’chaim!”
How long does it take to thank someone anonymous? Couldn’t he start praising his bride already?

Professor K. smiled at Mrs. Levine. “Here’s to our good luck.”

It looked like he was moving on.

“That wasn’t just luck,” an indignant Bubby said in a booming voice. “It was plenty hard work.” An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Bubby apparently had decided to take over the engagement party. Leah was visibly cringing now. Where was Bubby going with this anyway? A queasy feeling sloshed inside my stomach.

“Bubby,” I whispered. “Let’s just let Professor Kellman give his speech.”

“What do you mean, Ma?” Uncle Eli said.

“Bubby, you’re interrupting,” I hissed at Bubby.

“Raina,” Professor K. said. “Let’s hear what Mrs. Bernstein has to say.”

“So who exactly is this Matchmaven, Bayla?” a familiar voice yelled out. “You sound like you know!”

I froze.

“Never mind,” Bubby said, sniffing.

Mrs. Feldman wagged her finger at Bubby. “You have to be an expert on everything, Bayla.”

“Look who’s talking, Sylvia.” Bubby snorted.

I couldn’t believe it. They were actually going to have a fight in the middle of the engagement party.

I glanced at Uncle Eli whose eyebrows were drawn together. Mira had a look of terror on her face. You’d think that when you lived with Bubby you’d be used to it, but apparently you had to be constantly vigilant about avoiding a scene.

“Okay, Bayla, big talker,” Mrs. Feldman said. “Tell us who it is.”

I dropped my eyes to my hand; it was clenched so tightly, that the brownie was all crumbs now. A hush settled on the crowd, and all eyes rested on Bubby.

“If you knew who it was, you’d stop pretending that you knew and would just say who it is,” Mrs. Feldman said.

The logic escaped me, but it was Bubby that I was terrified about. They were goading her to give up the goods.

“I’ll just say that she’s very young and very caring.” Bubby turned to me and smiled sweetly.