I look around at the tables nearby. One hosts a family with every member tapping away at a device while the waiter brings out more and more delectable-looking food. My mouth waters just looking at everything, and I have a sudden urge to ask the kitchen if they give out samples.

The other table’s occupants must’ve gotten married last week. I feel old and married looking at the girl sitting there. Mind you, I probably am seven years older than her. She’s watching him breathlessly as he orders, and she keeps complimenting him.

“Wow, Dovs, I love how you know exactly what you what you want to eat, I’m like so indecisive.” Ohmygosh, where’s Mimi when you need her?

Kay, I’m not being nice. A year older means another year to work on my middos. The girl is adorable. I hope they’re very happy together.

The waiter comes over, introduces himself as Andrew, and asks me if I’m ready to order. I blush, even though Andrew couldn’t care less, and explain I’m just waiting for my husband to arrive. He nods and leaves but I still feel stupid. My phone pings.

Hope you’re having way too much fun to see this. Eat something fancy for me! Aw, Yaeli’s so sweet. Next time she’s in Monsey, we’re coming here.

I check the family chat out of sheer boredom.

Guys, Bayla’s on her birthday date now!

Cutie, I think Yossi remembered my birthday shanah rishonah. Um, and that was it.

Okay, Sar, no one feels bad for you. He just bought you a solitaire necklace.

Ha! True.

Hope she’s having fun. Bay, text us later with deets! And pix!

Wow, guys, I’m having so much fun sitting here alone, looking like an idiot.

I head upstairs to the restrooms just for something to do. On my way down, I pass a private screened table. I peek out of the corner of my eye, and my jaw drops.

It’s Mo Davids. Mo Davids the singer! I lift my phone surreptitiously and snap a pic. Okay, I’m officially a stalker now, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Settling back into my seat, I wave Andrew away again, and post the picture to the family chat. Well, I didn’t expect us to meet the rich and famous on my birthday, but Hashem had other plans! #MoDavids #favesong #celebritiesarejustlikeus.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Bay! That is so cool! What did he order? What did you order? What did Mike order?

Yaeli, are you hungry? Bay, that’s awesome!

Oh, yes, so awesome.

Andrew is making his way toward me again, so I smile and wave my menu. It is now 8:40, and I’m going to order. I ask for a meat pizza. A steak. A salad. Extra fries. Two cocktails. And then, because Mike is 40 minutes late to the birthday dinner he asked me out to, I order one of those fancy burgers with the sunny side up eggs on it. Mike hates eggs.

“Bayla Berger! Is that you?”

Oh, no, Hashem, please no, please no, I’ll do anything, plea— “Tanta Etty!”

I stand up and kiss both her cheeks. “Tanta Etty, what are you doing here?”

My aunt looks me up and down. “Oy, you’re too skinny. But you look wonderful, marriage suits you! I was out with Moishe, it’s his mother’s yahrtzeit, we always go out after visiting the kever.”

I cluck my tongue, nod at my uncle, and wish Uncle Moishe’s mother an aliyas neshamah.

“So where’s that tall husband of yours?”

I blush, thinking about how this must look, finding a newly married woman sitting alone in a classy restaurant.

“Oh, he’s on the way. Traffic on the 59, you know,” I say lamely.

“Well, send him our love, please.”

Tanta Etty and I hug one more time, and then she’s gone in a cloud of Issey Miyake.

That didn’t just happen, right? Right? Andrew? Somebody?

Because Tanta Etty, uh, to put it politely, likes to make sure things are in order. And knowing her… ping. Ping. Ping.

Yup.

Bay, Tanta Etty just texted me that you’re alone in the restaurant?

Bayla, why did Tanta Etty just tell me that Mike’s not with you?

Bayla? Are you by yourself at Fireside?

The only one who hasn’t messaged me is Ma.

Oh, dear, sweet, Tanta Etty. I’d bury my face in my hands, but then I might smudge my mascara.

Now my sisters think we’re dysfunctional. Maybe we are. I’m sitting alone, on my birthday, and I just ordered enough food for my entire extended family.

There’s a commotion by the entrance, and then Mike Leiber walks into Fireside.

Well, 27 balloons with Mike’s legs walk in. He’s also balancing two gift bags, and a bouquet of gorgeous red roses.

With narrowed eyes, I watch the effect he has on the staff. The maître d’ actually claps his hands, the waitresses are all nudging each other and smiling, and Andrew looks like a proud father peering down at his firstborn son.

Mike really is so sweet. He is so thoughtful. He is SO. LATE.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 784)