Love You a Latke

Chapter 22

22

The Eighth Night Ball took place in the ballroom of a hotel Seth had been shocked I’d never heard of. “It gets name-dropped on, like, Gossip Girl ,” he said. “It’s where all the fancy people stay. Seriously, do you live under a rock?”

“Seriously, how have we never discussed that you’ve watched Gossip Girl ?” I retorted. “Seriously, how have we waited this long to discuss Derena and Chair and how Jenny Humphrey deserved better?”

“Okay, but Dan Humphrey was a psychopath, right?” Seth said. I nodded with so much force I was afraid my curls might come out. “And everybody just treated him like he wasn’t? And then he got a happy ending? I’m worried about Serena’s future, honestly.”

We debated the whole Uber ride to the hotel, but all conversation ceased as Seth opened the door for me and motioned me out with a grand gesture.

And just like that, we were in a fairyland. White marble steps climbed above the sidewalk into columns that made me think of the Met. Twinkling lights were strung everywhere, glowing against the dark, and warm, inviting light beamed out of the hotel’s large arched windows. Chatter escaped the open doors, and so did notes from what sounded like a string quartet. I held up one side of my skirt so that I could walk up without tripping, because I could just imagine what Bev’s friends would have to say about me doing a full face-plant down the steps of the fancy hotel.

We showed our tickets at the door and then we were inside, which took my breath away. The ceiling of the hotel ballroom stretched unfathomably high overhead, hung with glittering crystal chandeliers and painted with the blazing glory of a sunset. Arched mirrors decorated the gilded walls, reflecting all the people in gowns and tuxes sipping bubbly flutes of champagne and snacking on mini latkes topped with crème fra?che and caviar. A string quartet was indeed playing away, right now to a jazzy version of “Ma’oz Tzur.” In the center of the room, set up high on a platform, shone a golden menorah the size of a very large dog.

Before I could grab a champagne flute or a latke, Seth snagged one of the waitstaff to take some pictures of us in front of the giant menorah. “My mom will pitch a fit if we don’t take enough pictures,” he said. “I’ve learned it’s easiest just to get them out of the way early.”

It was hard to blame her. I wanted pictures of Seth looking like this, too. Something about the tux in its stark black and white made my stomach go all warm. We posed in front of the menorah, smiling as the waiter turned Seth’s phone this way and that as we tried not to touch each other. Or at least, that was me.

Seth retrieved his phone and swiped through the pictures to make sure we weren’t blinking in all of them. “Perfect,” he said, then waved at someone behind me. “Hey!”

I turned around only to be enveloped by a cloud of flowery perfume and damp skin. When the cloud dissipated, I realized I’d been hugged by a woman maybe a few years older than us, accompanied by a man around the same age. Both had sleek dark hair and sharp, narrow features. They could’ve been siblings, but the way he was rubbing her back said they definitely were not.

“If it isn’t Seth Abrams, showing his face in New York City again,” the woman said affectionately. Her dress was long, tight, and pink, with rosettes bursting around the shoulders. “How’s Vermont? You moving back yet?”

“Definitely not,” Seth said, just as affectionately. He gave her a loose side-hug. “Abby, this is Emily and her boyfriend, Hugo. I’ve known Emily basically since I was born; we went to Hebrew school together. Emily, this is my girlfriend, Abby.”

“I was hoping I’d get to meet you!” Emily cried. I hoped she wasn’t going to hug me again. “I’ve heard so much about you through the temple grapevine. I assume it’s not true that you’re already pregnant and are planning on naming the baby after Bev’s parents?”

“Definitely not.” I echoed Seth. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Seth and Emily spent a few minutes catching up on their lives—Emily was a doctor in obstetrics and gynecology up at Columbia, her sister had just gotten married, she’d gotten a great deal on an apartment in Morningside Heights with a slight mouse problem but that could be dealt with—and then Emily turned to me. “I heard you run a café,” she said. “That’s so cool. I always wanted to have a bakery when I was younger.”

I’d definitely had people say that to me in a condescending way, but she sounded genuinely enthusiastic. I smiled at her, trying to counter my resting bitch face. “I do. Thanks.”

She squinted sidelong at Seth and leaned in like she was going to whisper, though she spoke at full volume. “I’m more amazed at how you got him here, though. Especially in a tux! The kid wore jeans to his own bar mitzvah.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Bev let that happen?”

“She didn’t have a choice after I threw my suit pants down the garbage chute the morning of,” Seth mumbled.

Okay, that was a story I was dying to hear more about. But Emily was talking again. “He didn’t go to prom both because of the suit and because he didn’t dance. I wasn’t surprised at all when he moved to Vermont. He belongs in jeans and flannel all year.”

I raised my other eyebrow. “He didn’t protest about coming tonight.” I thought for a moment. “Okay, he didn’t protest much .”

Emily elbowed him gently. “Oh, really? What’s so different about this night?”

“Compared to all other nights?” Seth asked. “Well, we eat matzah instead of bread, we—”

“It’s not Passover,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Fortunately, since I’ve had about ten of those mini waffles so far. You should definitely grab one of them before they stop circulating.”

“We’re definitely going to eat about a pound of those each,” Seth said.

Emily’s eyes widened. “Speaking of circulating snacks, I’m seeing the latkes with salmon roe on the other side of the room and I’m not letting them get away again. Catch up with you later? Oh, before I forget.” She pulled out her phone and extended her arm, crowding her face between Seth’s and mine. I barely had time to smile before she snapped the selfie. “Okay, see you!” Another cloud of perfume and damp skin and she was off, moving faster than I could’ve ever moved in heels like that.

“My mom’s probably already seen that selfie,” Seth said, turning back to me. “She’ll be delighted.”

Probably way more delighted than when Seth threw his bar mitzvah suit down a trash chute. “Really, though, I’m curious,” I said, and I wasn’t entirely sure why I was chasing the subject, just that I wanted to know. “If you really hate dressing up and dancing so much, why come tonight? We could’ve skipped it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Dressing up and dancing isn’t so bad.” A beat of silence where I just stared at him. “Okay, it was the expression on your face after my mom told us about it. You lit up like you were Cinderella finally getting an invitation to the ball, without even having to wear glass slippers that could easily break and end in a gory mess-slash-amputated foot. Seriously, didn’t the fairy godmother know those were health hazards?”

“I always assumed they were magical unbreakable glass,” I said, mostly because I couldn’t say anything else without a lump rising in my throat. Actually, I didn’t need to say anything—there it was. I coughed, trying to clear it out. “Seriously, you didn’t have to do this for me. I would’ve been totally fine not going.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Seth said. “I wanted to.”

Is this love? The thought wormed its way into the back of my brain. Doing something you really don’t want to do for the sake of someone else? Just to see them happy?

The string quartet launched into another interpretation of “Rock of Ages,” this one a little slower and more serious, as Seth smiled at me, then held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

I blinked. The dazzle of the room left golden impressions on the backs of my eyelids. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

The corner of his lip quirked in a smile. “I’ll dance with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His hand didn’t waver. “I want to dance with you, Abby.”

I couldn’t do anything but nod.

Seth swept me up in his arms, moving us back into the dancing crowd. He didn’t seem to be doing any particular step, no waltz or tango or polka (not that I’d want him to be doing the polka; it was just one of the only dances I could think of), but his movements were fluid and elegant, his hands sure against my shoulder and my hip. Surprising for someone who claimed he didn’t dance. I wrapped my own arms around his shoulders, linking them loosely at the back of his neck, where his curls tickled them.

In this moment, focusing on the motions of my feet and my body, trying not to bump into any other couples or trip over Seth’s feet or the hem of my dress, my brain couldn’t dwell on anything else. Couldn’t make me deny anything else. I was forced to realize one single truth without trying to push it away.

I was happy. For the first time in a long time. Really, truly happy. Really, truly content. Really, truly comfortable.

And I didn’t want it to end.

That was enough of a thought to distract my brain. Sure enough, without constant minding, my feet got tangled between Seth’s ankles. My hands came loose as I toppled, ready to catch myself.

But I didn’t have to catch myself. Seth caught me. Pulled me back up. Murmured in my ear, “You okay?”

I opened my mouth to respond. Couldn’t think of what to say. No, I wasn’t okay; my entire life strategy was crumbling before my eyes and I was in the midst of an existential crisis while dressed as the night sky queen. Yes, I was okay, more than okay; I was happy, comfortable, safe, open.

In love.

The thought sent terrified shivers through me. I had to squeeze the words out through a throat that suddenly felt more like a drinking straw. “I need some air,” I choked. Air, sure. Any air where I couldn’t smell him, feel him.

It took some wrenching to pry Seth’s hands off my hip and my shoulder—he was holding on extra tight, maybe afraid I’d fall again—and then turn around in what I hoped looked like a controlled fashion and not utter panic like I was feeling inside. Picking up my skirts so that I wouldn’t fall again, I strode through a blur of lights and wavery violin notes toward an opening on the far side of the room.

“Abby! Wait!” Seth called behind me. I didn’t stop, though my feet did stutter for a moment, as if they’d rather listen to him than my brain. It was hard to blame them. Sometimes I didn’t like my brain, either.

The opening led to a corridor lined with conference rooms and business suites. The doors were all locked with a code, and the straight lines left nowhere to hide, so I kept moving. The end of the corridor led into a lobby, which was empty aside from a bored front desk attendant who barely even spared me a glance. Among the frilly potted trees and trickling fountains, I sank into one of the couches. My bare shoulders immediately stuck to the leather.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I tried to focus on the magazines splayed out before me on the table. Golf Fancy. Architectural Digest. Bon Appétit. They looked like all the magazines Bev and Benjamin had on their table, which sent me spiraling again, struggling to pull enough air into my lungs.

“Abby?” Seth said from behind me. I turned to find him panting in his tux, which meant he’d probably gotten his fancy shirt all sweaty. He’d have to pay for dry-cleaning, and it would be all my fault. See? He’d be better off without me.

That voice wasn’t as convincing as it had been before.

“Hi, Seth.” My words sounded tinny. “I just…needed some air.”

He laughed, but it was an uncomfortable laugh, like he wasn’t sure how much he should pretend to believe me. “You looked like Cinderella running away at midnight. Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?”

“Cinderella didn’t turn into a pumpkin, that was her carriage,” I said in the automatic way of someone who’d watched every single Disney Princess movie multiple times as a child. Maybe this was it, how I could spin it. Princesses ran away.

But queens? Queens stayed to face the facts. And I wasn’t a princess. I was a queen.

“I hope Cinderella will accept my deepest, most sincere apologies,” Seth said. “How about you? I hope I didn’t do something to make you run away. If it was the dancing, we don’t have to—”

“Seth.” I stood up and turned to face him, balling my fists at my sides for strength. “I ran away because…because…” I couldn’t seem to get the words out.

But, looking at his soft eyes, his patient expression, I knew I had the time to. I pulled in a breath so deep I was worried it might snap my bra. “Because I have real feelings for you and I don’t know how to deal with them.” I let all the words out in a torrent. Hopefully, they wouldn’t drown him. Or me. “I’m not used to this. I don’t know how to open myself up to someone else, but I want to, because I’m in love with you.”

The shock of that last phrase was enough to snap my mouth shut. My heart pounded in my chest so hard I thought I might vomit it up. What had I been thinking ? In love ? My face heated, little prickles spreading over my forehead. Great, I was sweating all over. Now I was going to have to pay for dry-cleaning, too, before Bev could return my gown.

My mouth opened again and the words started coming out, whether I wanted them to or not. “I know I’m probably not what you pictured. I’m not open and nurturing and emotional like you, and I probably never will be, and I’m prickly, and I’m grumpy in the mornings, and I always see the glass as half-empty, and I don’t like talking about my feelings, and…” I trailed off.

Seth raised an eyebrow. “Are you done?”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said, taking a step closer to me. This close I could smell that lovely, irritating, delicious scent of oranges and campfire, which clung to him even through the dusty tux his father had dug out of his closet. “Because there’s a lot you forgot. You’re brilliant, and funny, and driven, and ambitious. I know you like to think you’re cold and calculating, but you’re really not; you’re caring and you like to help people, no matter how much you try to hide it. Being around you makes my heart race and my brain work hard, because you make me want to be a better person. To be someone who’s worthy of you.” He paused. “Oh, and you’re beautiful, too. Can’t forget that.”

All those things he was saying were spiking my blood pressure, that side of my brain telling me, He’s wrong, he’s lying, you’re not worth it.

I ignored it. I took a step closer. Now I couldn’t just smell him; I could feel the heat of him, warming my front like an actual campfire. “I still find the positive attitude a little annoying sometimes,” I said. “But I want it to keep annoying me.”

He stepped even closer, placing our faces inches apart. I could see his spiky eyelashes, the tiny beauty mark near his right eye, the little patch of hair he’d missed shaving on the line of his jaw. “Oh, by the way. Almost forgot,” he said. “I’m in love with you, too.”

I don’t even know who kissed who, but it didn’t matter. Our lips were moving against each other’s, our bodies pressed together. I didn’t care who saw us. All I wanted was to be here, with him, our limbs entwined and our fingers tangled in each other’s hair and the wet heat of his mouth on my own.

I felt that mouth smile beneath mine. “It’s hard to kiss you when you’re smiling,” I whispered.

“You’re smiling back,” he whispered. It was true.

Did we have to go back to the ball? I kind of wanted to stay here forever, but I would settle for the rest of the night. Why go back to Seth’s childhood room when we had an entire hotel above our heads, one with comfy king-size beds and no parents within earshot? One whose rooms probably cost more than my rent up in Vermont?

Stop thinking about logistics. For once, I listened to myself, and lost myself in how it felt when his beard rubbed my chin, the tender way he cupped my cheek, the—

“Abigail? Is that you?”

That familiar voice might as well have been a bucket of cold water thrown over my head. I wrenched away from Seth, my stomach lurching into my chest.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Abigail, it is you.”

I turned slowly, trying to keep from screaming, and yes. There they were.

My parents.

I’m not going to lie: I had occasionally googled them over the years to see if they were dead. I’d come back with photos of them on social media with friends, so I knew vaguely how they’d aged, but it was still jarring seeing them here in person with those extra years painted on their faces. My mom’s dark pixie cut was going silver above her ears, and her cheeks were thinner. My dad had packed on a belly, and the bags under his eyes had gotten pouchy.

My mom stepped forward. Her lips stretched into a smile. “What a surprise. Or is it? Did you remember that we liked to stay here whenever we went out for a night in the city? Some part of you must have.”

I could barely hear her over the sound of my heart thudding inside my skull. Since when had they ever come here? I knew it had been a lot of years, but I couldn’t imagine that, unless they’d won the lottery or something, their financial situation had changed all that much. I’d never heard of this hotel before, that much I knew.

Or had I? Somehow speaking with my parents always made me unsure what I knew and what I didn’t know.

Mrs. Landskroner popped into my head. Maybe after seeing that Seth and I had been at the cookie decorating event, she’d struck up a conversation with Bev and Benjamin. Learned that Seth and I would be here at the Eighth Night Ball. Leaked the information to my mom.

I cleared my throat, which was suddenly very dry. “You never came here,” I whispered. I did know that. I wasn’t crazy.

The smile my mom gave me was an apologetic one. “Of course we’ve come here, Abigail. You must remember.” She turned to Seth. “Our Abigail is a lovely girl, but you may have noticed that she sometimes has trouble with the truth.”

Oh, god. They hadn’t changed a bit. This was like I’d stepped into a nightmare.

Seth’s hand found my back, reinforcing it, giving me strength.

But not enough. I ran. Again.