Love You a Latke

Chapter 20

20

By the time we’d wound our way down to Union Square and snapped a picture of us with the giant menorah—our “something Hanukkah” that made us feel so included—the sun was beginning to set. We’d stopped briefly for some candied nuts and hot chocolate from a street vendor for a snack, and the sugar was now coursing through my body.

“I can’t believe we missed the Santa skeleton,” I said, bouncing a little on my toes. We were one of the last groups there, so it wasn’t like we’d sped through the city and that was why we hadn’t found it. “Maybe we should go back out.”

“We are not going back out to search,” Seth said, scrolling through his phone. Since Times Square, he’d done an impressive job of not looking me in the eye even once. Even when the two of us had to stand next to each other and fake happiness in front of a gingerbread house display. “Nine out of ten is respectable. Even if we don’t win, we—”

“Only one of the other groups found the Santa skeleton so far, and they didn’t get the nutcracker,” Kylie reported, also scrolling through her phone. “So we’re still in the running.”

That was enough to keep my heels on the ground until Dan showed up with his Santa hat on, mug of grog in his hand, the swagger in his step making me confident that mug wasn’t his first. “Salutations and congratulations to Mike, Lizzy, and Freya!” he announced. “You’ve won this Christmas grab bag of fun!”

My shoulders sagged as the winning trio cheered and claimed their grab bag of fun, which seemed to mostly consist of candy. It wasn’t even like I had a huge sweet tooth, but I wanted the winning title. “Well. I guess we tried. Even if we lost.”

“We did more than try. We did great,” Seth said, eyes trained somewhere over my shoulder even as he spoke directly to me. “We got to see so much cool stuff that we wouldn’t normally have seen.”

True, we probably otherwise wouldn’t have checked out the nutcracker display. I’d most likely have nightmares about them tonight, an army of them marching forward on their stiff legs to crack my toes between their creepy wooden jaws.

Besides, how could I not think about this in terms of winning and losing? It was a competition. One team winning meant another team lost. Like in life. People talked a big game about things being fair and a rising tide lifting all boats and whatever, but most things were really just winner-take-all.

“Candy?” Freya popped up with a handful, her rosy cheeks bunched high in a smile.

I really didn’t need any more sugar, but this candy probably tasted like winning. “Sure.”

I popped the Skittles into my mouth and chewed. Through them, I asked her, “Where did you guys find the Santa skeleton?”

“That was a tough one, wasn’t it?” Freya said brightly. She offered some candy to Seth, but he waved it away, eyes trained on his phone. It was buzzing. He stepped away and held it to his ear. “It was kind of hidden down this side street on this goth bar with bats hanging from the…”

As she kept telling me about the location, I trained my ears on Seth. “Hi, Mom,” he’d answered. “Yeah, we’re just finishing up. What…” And then he was quiet for long pauses, punctuated occasionally with yeses or nos, I don’t knows and I don’t think sos. What was Bev telling him?

Maybe she’d found out. About us. I had no idea how she’d done so, but my mind concocted a scenario where she found Seth’s diary—because of course someone like Seth would keep a diary, and he probably wouldn’t bother locking it—and read with increasing horror about our whole plan. She was telling him now that I was a dirty rotten liar and not to even bother bringing me home because if she saw my face again she was going to smash a freshly baked pie in it and she didn’t want to waste a perfectly good pie on me and—

“Abby?” He’d hung up. He was finally looking me in the eye, but from his worried expression, I assumed the worst.

Well, it wasn’t like I’d brought that much stuff with me. Surely, he could pack it up himself and bring it down to the—

He was talking. I was missing it. “…almost forgot about the Eighth Night Ball,” he was saying. I blinked. Right. The big romantic spectacle on the final night of Hanukkah Bev had already bought us tickets to. “She called up her favorite local boutique and got you in just in time for a fitting in an hour, but the hangover hit her hard and she doesn’t think she can go with you.”

Well. I hadn’t expected that. “Okay. I don’t mind going by myself.”

Or. My eyes settled on Freya. We were friends, right? Or becoming friends? Spending time together one-on-one was how you became better friends. Except maybe she wasn’t interested in becoming friends, and she’d make a face and send my heart plummeting.

Seth was saying, “I’ll go with you if you want,” but he sounded a little like he was volunteering to get his teeth cleaned by a butcher who was considering becoming a dentist.

After tomorrow I’d have no reason to see Freya again, right? So any embarrassment from her saying no only had to last as long as tomorrow. Maybe I could take a tiny leap of faith. Give friendship a shot.

“Hey, Freya,” I said. I swallowed my Skittles in a hard, sticky lump. “Any chance you’re free after this? And that you like shopping? I’m going to get a gown for the Eighth Night Ball, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I love shopping.” That made one of us. She beamed at me. “Of course. Where are we going?”

Her face lit up even more when I shared the name of the designer, who I didn’t recognize. “Ooh, that’s some fancy stuff. I have a few things of hers, but they were lucky thrift store finds.”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.” Nervousness fluttered in my stomach. Maybe if I were Seth’s real girlfriend I wouldn’t mind Bev buying me something fancy and expensive, but being a fake girlfriend? This was basically fraud.

But I couldn’t refuse. I already knew Bev well enough to understand that she’d take it as a personal insult. And maybe they’d have a clearance rack I could choose something from. Or I could leave the tags on so Bev could return it once I was gone.

I jumped when Seth touched me gently on the shoulder. “I see you panicking,” he murmured. “Don’t. My parents can easily afford it, and it makes my mom happy to do things like this for people.”

That didn’t help. “?‘Don’t panic.’ Wow. I didn’t think of that,” I said. “What great advice. The panic is gone.”

If Seth was someone who rolled his eyes, he’d roll his eyes at me. Instead, he just smiled patiently. “She’ll cry when she sees you in the dress. Out of happiness. Don’t take that away from her.”

Whatever. I still felt like I was defrauding an old couple of their money. “What time is the appointment?”

When he told me, my eyes widened. “Dude, that’s like now.”

“Don’t worry,” Freya said, linking her arm through mine. “I can get us there on time.”

And she did, though it involved throwing ourselves into traffic to beat someone else to a cab, then telling the cabdriver Freya would give him an extra-large tip if he’d stomp on the gas whenever we hit a yellow light. By the time we spilled out of the cab, I was drenched in stress-sweat and my hands were shaking. The perfect combination for trying on fancy dresses.

Freya, on the other hand, continued to look as if she’d never sweated in her life. “Ooh, so exciting,” she said, pausing outside the small glass-front boutique to take a picture. Blank-faced mannequins posed in sequins and stoles in the window. “So what’s this ball you’re going to?”

We entered into a puff of warm air fragrant with the smell of money. When I told the saleswoman who bustled over that I had an appointment in back, she nodded and led me past the clothes on display, which were mostly draped over mannequins like in the window. Did expensive boutiques like this not have racks? Was everything one of a kind?

The thought made me a little queasy, but that was helped by the sparkling water the saleswoman handed us in the back. It reminded me a little bit of the few episodes of Say Yes to the Dress I’d seen, only smaller and less white: curtained changing rooms; round poufs for people to sit on; flattering lighting pouring down over multi-angled mirrors. Freya and I shrugged our coats off to set them on a pouf, but before we could, somebody appeared to whisk them away. Hopefully, to hang in a closet and not to steal.

The saleswoman appeared before me again to shake my hand, a wide smile stretching her bright red lips. “I’m Stephanie, and I’ll be helping you out today. You must be Abby?”

“I am,” I said. Stephanie’s handshake threatened to crush my fingers. “And this is Freya. My…” I wasn’t sure exactly what to call her. She wasn’t quite a friend yet, was she? But saying “my fake boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend” would probably be weird.

Freya jumped in. “I’m Abby’s friend.” True or not, the sentence sent a warm glow spreading through me. First Seth, now Freya. Just look at me, making friends everywhere. If only Connor could see this “frigid bitch” now.

“Great,” Stephanie said. She turned back to me without shaking Freya’s hand. “So you’re looking for a dress for a ball tomorrow night, correct? So you won’t have time to wait for alterations.”

“Correct.”

“So if this is a ball, I assume you’ll want something formal and elegant. Floor-length?”

“Maybe,” I said, having no idea what went into dressing for a ball outside of a Disney movie.

“Any specific design choices or shapes you’re looking for? Colors? Special details or materials?” She cast her eyes down my outfit, which consisted of mom jeans and a black sweater. I did not appreciate the judgment curling the edges of those red, red lips. “Sleeves or sleeveless? Neckline?”

I had no idea what to say to any of that. Maybe this was a huge mistake. I needed Bev here to steer me, to tell me what to do. She would love that. “I don’t know,” I said, taking a step back. “I don’t dress up very much.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Stephanie surveyed my body again. “Probably an A-line or a ball gown, I’m thinking,” she said. “Does that sound okay? Of course, I’ll pull a few other options, too.”

I didn’t even know what those words meant as far as dresses went. I looked to Freya for help. She gave me a nod, so I gave Stephanie a nod back. Freya said, as if extending a hand in aid, “Abby, I’ve mostly seen you wear black? Do you want a black dress?”

“Er,” I said. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I’m guessing no pastels and nothing too pale. Anything too pale will wash you out anyway,” Stephanie said. “I’ll pull blacks and darker, more vibrant colors. What are you planning on doing with makeup?”

“Uh…”

“I think that’s a good start,” Stephanie chirped. “Let me go fetch some options. What size?”

When she went off into the front of the store, I sank onto the pouf with a sigh. The pouf echoed me. “I have no idea what I’m shopping for. I didn’t even know this brand,” I said. “You should be the one getting a fancy dress for a fancy ball, not me.”

Freya let out a dry laugh. “Trust me, if it were me, Bev would not be paying for it.” She took a seat beside me, on the very edge of the pouf, her tensed legs holding her up. “I don’t know if this ball is new or if I was just not invited when we were dating.” She relaxed, giving me a wry smile. “But it’s fine. I like the dressing up part, not so much the dancing part. I have two left feet.”

“Oh my god, me too,” I said. “I think the last time I danced was at my bat mitzvah, and even that was mostly, like, the Electric Slide and the Chicken Dance. I hope I don’t waltz into the menorah and light the hotel on fire.”

“That would make for a memorable night, at least,” Freya said.

I’d already had a memorable night. The kiss.

As if she could read my mind, Freya’s eyes widened. “You guys kissed, didn’t you?”

I wanted to deny it. But when I tried to shake my head, it wouldn’t move. So I gave in. “Maybe. But it didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Freya said. “Seth isn’t the kind of person who kisses people casually. If he kissed you, it meant something.”

No way. He’d specifically told me it hadn’t.

Fortunately, Stephanie showed up towing a silver rack of dresses before we could dissect this any further. “Wow, they all look beautiful,” I said without looking at any of them.

Stephanie handed over a slinky red thing that looked like it would come about to my knee. “Why don’t we start with this one?” When I went into the dressing room she made to follow me, but Freya stepped in front of her.

“I can do it.”

I managed to wiggle into the dress, pull it up inch by inch—Freya assured me it was supposed to fit this way—and then suck in my stomach for her to zip it up.

I knew as soon as we got this dress on that it wouldn’t be for me, but after all this effort, I would’ve felt bad not letting Freya open the curtain and parade me in front of the mirror. Still, Stephanie couldn’t miss my wrinkled nose at the sight. “Okay, Abby, you look great, but if you don’t feel great in it, maybe nothing else this tight,” she said. “Let’s try an A-line next.”

The A-line, a tight gathered black top with a long, chiffony white skirt shaped like an A, definitely felt better in shape even if I didn’t love the design. White, for me? No thanks.

Freya went to grab a dress from the middle of the rack. As soon as I saw the material, I shook my head. “I thought we said nothing glittery.”

“I just have a feeling about this one,” she said, thrusting it at me. Behind her, Stephanie had her lips pursed with disapproval, but she was the one who’d pulled it in the first place. “Let’s try it. For me.”

Given that she was here taking charge and helping me through this, and without her I’d be stuck with Stephanie and her pursed lips, I couldn’t argue with that. So I took the dress into the changing room, shut the curtain, and let her clothe me like a doll.

“I’m just not a glitter person,” I was telling her as she led me back out into the main space, but the words stopped short when she shoved me in front of the mirrors and there I was, glittering at angle after angle.

I almost didn’t recognize myself. The dress was another simple A-line in shape, gathered at the bust and flowing past my waist to the floor. Its sleeves were loops that circled around my upper arms, baring my shoulders so that my hair could tumble over them or be tied up high to showcase the elegant flow of my throat into my clavicle, which I’d only just now realized was elegant. The dress was black—my favorite color—and covered with tiny chips of what must have been rhinestones, small and subtle and scattered enough where I didn’t glow like a disco ball under the lights but instead shimmered whenever I moved.

I looked like a princess of the night sky. I couldn’t help but imagine Seth’s face when he saw me in it: he’d go slack-jawed, overcome by my magnificence just like a boyfriend in a classic teen movie who barely recognized the nerdy girl after she took off her glasses and straightened her hair.

No, I told myself. Stop it.

“This is the one, I think,” Freya was telling Stephanie. I couldn’t argue with her, not even when Stephanie told us the price and that Bev had given her her card number to put it on her tab. I’d keep the tags on and return it once the ball was over, I told myself. Bev wouldn’t be out anything. What would be the harm?

When I took it off and handed it over to Stephanie to place delicately into a garment bag, it felt a little like I’d lost something. Like I’d seen the ultimate expression of who I could be, and it wasn’t me in this sweater and jeans. Like it was a glimpse of who I could have been, for real, if I hadn’t grown up the way I did, with the parents I had, if I didn’t feel the need to close myself off from everyone and everything.

Would it be weird to walk around in a gown all the time?

“Are you okay?” Freya asked, holding out a tissue to me. I didn’t take it; I wasn’t crying or anything. Except then I realized that my vision was blurry, so it was either that or a stroke.

I drew in a deep breath. I couldn’t take the tissue; that would show weakness.

Except what the hell, Abby? Maybe it was less weak to acknowledge what was happening than to deny it. I took the tissue and swiped at my eyes. The blurry vision cleared up, which was a relief. “Thanks.”

“What’s on your mind?” Freya asked. It was still just the two of us back here; Stephanie was up front wrapping the dress and processing payment and whatever else.

I hesitated. “Nothing.” Then hesitated again. I’d already basically been naked in front of her. She’d called herself a friend. Maybe I could stand to let a little bit of myself out. “I was just thinking about my family.”

“Oh, wishing they could be here to see it?” she said sympathetically. “I had a similar thing happen with my prom dress. My mom had to work the night I went shopping, and I was sad she couldn’t be there with me.”

You know what? It was easier to let her think that than go into the truth. Besides, this night was going so well. I really felt like we were bonding. “Yeah, that’s totally it. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“But Seth said they lived in the area,” Freya said.

“Yeah, it’s complicated,” I said. I hesitated. Should I go on?

Not with the full truth, definitely. Opening up to Seth had actually made me feel a bit better—or had, at least, made my headache fade—but I trusted him, even though I hadn’t known him much longer at this point than I’d known Freya. I thought I might be able to trust Freya someday if this friendship kept developing, but we weren’t there yet. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen them,” I said again, because that was one hundred percent true. “It’s sad. I hadn’t thought it bothered me this much, but staying with Seth and his family, it really makes me miss them.” That was also one hundred percent true. Even if, when I said I missed them, it was less missing those specific people and who they were than it was missing the idea of the parents I could have had.

Again, the thought struck me: what had I done to deserve the parents I got?

I shook the thought away, imagining Seth’s voice in my head. None of it is your fault.

“I’m sorry,” Freya said. “I don’t live in the same place as my parents anymore, but we FaceTime a lot. It’s hard to be far away from them. Are you going to see yours while you’re here at all?”

Again, I hesitated, that old feeling of irritation bubbling up. How was it any of her business? It was a normal question, though, one I wasn’t surprised she’d think given what I’d told her. I went with another half lie. “Probably not. Things have just been so busy, I’m not sure if I’ll get the chance. It’s too bad.”

And it would be too bad, if I had normal parents, a normal relationship with them, a normal family. Like everybody else seemed to.

Freya smiled mysteriously. “Maybe things will work out. Maybe life will surprise you.”

Something in my chest twisted hard. Maybe. Maybe one day my parents would turn up at my door and tell me they’d been reflecting on my childhood and that they’d finally realized how wrong they were, and that they wanted to give me their deepest apologies. Maybe life would surprise me and they’d tell me they knew it might take a while for me to trust them, but they wanted to take that time to build a new relationship with me. Maybe I’d finally get to understand what it was like to be part of a real family.

It had been too long since I’d spoken. I cleared my throat. “That would be the most amazing thing.”

Ugh. I nearly cringed at myself. When had I turned into someone for whom the maybes were positive? This was all Seth’s influence. Normal me would’ve shut this down right away. I didn’t know why I’d already said so much.

Luckily, before Freya could ask any more questions or I could dig myself into an even more ill-advised, deeper hole, Stephanie popped back up. “Thanks so much for shopping with us,” she said, handing over the garment bag and a receipt. I carefully did not look at it in fear of having a heart attack that would lead to dropping the dress and getting it dirty. “Hope to see you again!”

She would never see me again. A thought that made me kind of sad, I realized, as Freya and I waved goodbye outside the store and hopped into separate cabs.

Something that also made me sad: even though the sun had already set, Bev, Benjamin, and Seth had waited for me to light the candles. Or maybe sad wasn’t the right word. Maybe I was touched, and my body didn’t know the difference. All I knew was that my heart squeezed when I entered the apartment and saw them all standing there around the menorah, the candles already inserted and ready to drip wax on the tinfoil beneath.

“Aw, you guys didn’t have to wait for me,” I said. It was clear who’d selected the candles today by their neat alternating blue and white pattern: Benjamin. Bev’s selections were typically more colorful; Seth’s a random riot of the oranges and purples that nobody else wanted to include in their setup.

“Of course we waited for you,” Bev said, giving me a funny look, as if she hadn’t even considered otherwise. “How was dress shopping?”

I held up the garment bag in response. Her face split in a smile. “Oh, I can’t wait to see it. I’m sure it’s beautiful. I only wish I could’ve gone, but…” She shook her head. “My stomach had other ideas.”

“I wish you could’ve gone, too,” I said hastily, before she could fill me in on exactly what other ideas her stomach had. “But I had fun with Freya.”

Bev’s smile flickered. “You went with Freya? Freya, as in…” Her eyes flitted to her son, apparently unable to voice Freya’s relationship to him.

“Yup,” I said. “Freya and I are friends. I like her a lot.”

Seth’s eyes were now darting from the menorah to the door, as if judging how long it would take him to make a break for it. I stepped in front of him so that he couldn’t go anywhere.

“I see,” Bev said. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. Shall we light the candles?”

Since tomorrow night Seth and I would be at the ball, this was our last night lighting them together. As a family. Well, kind of. Whether we counted as a family or not, I still savored each catch of the flame, each note of our voices raised in song, every flickering reflection of the candles in the glass of the window, the glow of our faces above them.