***

Chayala had finally hit pay dirt. Again. Well, her last plan of finding other people who’d been in similar situations to help her father hadn’t panned out, but this plan was foolproof. She squinted at her laptop screen, proud of how she’d thought ahead to cover her tracks. She’d pulled up LinkedIn in incognito mode, and ten minutes later she was Allison Smith, petite blonde woman who’d graduated The College of New Jersey class of ’85, and she looked downright great for her age, if she did say so herself. She put the finishing touches on her fake profile, with a very impressive fake work history working as a sales rep in food manufacturing and consulting, complete with a fake email address to match. She generated a photo of a professional-looking woman on Shutterstock AI who fit the bill to a T and found Mike’s profile in no time at all.

Shoot, there was no way to see who his connections were without being connected to him first. “Here goes nothing,” Chayala muttered, then clicked CONNECT.

A few hours later, her browser, opened to allisonsmith1963@gmail.com, pinged a push notification. She’d connected to anyone she could find on LinkedIn who had graduated from that college in the late 80s, and a bunch of them had already accepted, including one Michael Rosario, whose profile and connections were now opened to her.

She looked over the draft of the message. Hi! It’s so good to connect with you after all these years. I know it’s been a long time (not that anyone could forget that crazy New Year’s party in ’84, right??) but I have a funny question for you! It’s our good friend Mike Rosario’s 60th birthday next month, and I wanted to surprise him with the best and funniest stories from the good old days. I’m looking for the real Mike — the good, the bad, and the ugly.

She typed a few laughing emojis for good measure. Old people loved emojis.

Do you have any stories? Were you in classes together, partied together, or maybe worked together? I would really appreciate it if you could video yourself telling over the craziest stories you’ve got and email it to me. A written message is fine, too. The point is, I want you to focus on the real Mike and give him a birthday present he’ll never forget!

***

Silverware chinked in the background softly as Dassi relaxed into the sumptuous velvet banquette at Rosé. Ari motioned to a passing waiter.

“Hi there. Before we order, can you please bring an Earl Grey with lemon and mint?” He threw Dassi a small smile. “You said your throat was hurting a little, right?”

Dassi nodded, touched that he thought of it.

He looked back up at the waiter. “Thanks. And we’ll have the dessert menu please.”

Dassi grinned. “I still think you’re nuts. Who goes to one restaurant for dinner and another one for dessert? I would have been happy with something low-key, you know.”

Ari laughed, his eyes flashing. “I told you, Bassar Board is the newest place, and their food was great, but they don’t know how to do amazing pareve dessert like Rosé does. And you deserve the best of the best.”

Dassi rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Your idea of best of the best is like… a gold-plated helicopter ride. Mine is when my fountain soda has the perfect amount of fizz.”

Ari caught her eye. “Hey, but look at us, overcoming our differences.”

“Right,” she said, smiling happily.

“By the way, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this absolutely crazy story,” said Ari. “I realized my little brother might have been pranking me, and I don’t even know how long it’s been going on! He sent you that text about changing the date to a hiking date, and who knows who else he texted? Obviously, I dealt with him, but I’m so on edge wondering which other shoes are going to drop from texts he sent that I don’t know about!”

Dassi’s jaw dropped. “Oh. My. Gosh. That’s wild! Should I be scared I’m going to get on the prank list, too? Should we go into hiding?”

Ari laughed, and Dassi was relieved that his tension seemed to be waning. “Speaking of which,” he said. “This thing is getting more serious, and I think we should talk about a few things… you know, before. Like, I was thinking, when I was much younger I used to assume I would go to Israel after I got married, but once I started working that sort of fell off the table. I assumed it just wouldn’t happen, it just didn’t make sense. But now it’s not theoretical, it’s real. I know it’s crazy, but what do you think about going? I feel like you’re the kind of person who would appreciate it and take it seriously.”

Dassi stammered. “Umm…huh? What do you mean? Like going to Israel to learn? I mean…. Aren’t we a little too old for that?”

“There’s no age limit on learning,” said Ari. “Think of it like this. We’re so entrenched in our lives — our friends, our coworkers, parents, siblings, everything. We won’t have the privilege of really focusing on us, just us, if we’re living our normal lives except we just happen to be married. And we wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else, either. I could support us for a year or two in Israel while we start our marriage off strong.”

“Wow,” said Dassi, momentarily flummoxed. She was grateful that the tea arrived so she had something to distract her from Ari’s intense gaze. “Uh… that does sound amazing. I love Israel, and I really love the idea of you learning for a year. But at our ages? I mean, I think we can make a conscious decision to prioritize each other no matter where we are, right? We don’t have to travel across the world to do that.” She took a slow sip. “Besides. I love my parents and my friends, and I have a great job. Of course, I wouldn’t be seeing them as much or putting as many hours in, but I don’t want to drop everything in my life completely, you know?”

Ari looked at her over the top of the tall, thin dessert menu. “We have our whole lives ahead of us. A year or two is nothing. Imagine being able to start off our marriage with just us. No distractions, no one giving us their opinions, or butting in to let us know how we should be doing things. We’ll really be able to bond and give each other our undivided attention.”

Dassi considered him thoughtfully. It was weird, talking so openly about their future like this, but it also felt nice, kind of surreal. She let herself daydream for a minute about a cute apartment in Israel, drinking a coffee on a neat little mirpesset with the most beautiful view in the world at her feet. She could see it, for sure. But it also felt a little funny. Wouldn’t she feel odd, putting her whole life on pause? So much would already be changing.

“Twenty-year-old me would have booked tickets already,” she said, deliberately keeping her tone light. “Let me think about it a little bit. You know, I’m coming up on ten years at my company. I’m not so sure it would be the best idea if I quit my job now.”

Ari waved dismissively. “A job’s a job. And besides, nobody’s irreplaceable. Anyone can do what you do.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 839)