“Totally. I made the profile look pretty convincing, and I said it was for a surprise party, so no one would say anything to him.”

“Wow,” breathed Etty. “Did you get anything helpful?”

“I got four responses. Two were pretty benign. But one was some guy who told a story of him and Mike picking their professor’s office lock so they could ‘borrow’ answers to their statistics final,” said Chayala. “And one was some story about how he and his roommate worked at a fast food place on campus and they snuck the leftovers home at the end of their shifts to sell to their dorm mates to make extra money.”

Etty considered this thoughtfully. “Chay, I’m rooolling that you infiltrated his social circle, but I don’t think this is going to get you what you want.”

“What do you mean?”

“Chayyyy… you catfished a bunch of old people and asked them if they had scandalous stories about a guy from, like, 30 years ago? How could any of this be admissible in court? And even if it is,” she said, her tone gentling, “it’s not going to prove any lack of wrongdoing on your father’s part.”

Chayala sighed. “Intellectually I agree with you, but emotionally I’m being pulled to do something, literally anything, which won’t make me feel like I have so little control over this.”

They sat for a moment, the words hanging in the air between them. Then Chayala spoke, quiet, but sure.

“I know my parents are proud of me, but I feel like I’m letting them down in so many ways.” She contemplated the cooing baby in her lap sadly. “I just think they envisioned a totally different trajectory for my life, and the fact that I haven’t been able to be a source of nachas for them… it’s just really hard. Maybe I’m trying too hard with this whole thing to overcompensate for all the other disappointments in their lives.” She straightened her back as Mrs. Gutmacher joined them on the couch. “Whatever, it’s fine.”

She shifted her attention to Mrs. G. and changed the subject.

“Mrs. Gutmacher, I was about to tell Etty that I didn’t even realize how much I needed this dating break until I took it. I don’t even care if I haven’t been redt any boys this whole time, in my mind I’m on vacation!”

Mrs. Gutmacher smiled. “That’s pretty apropos, because I was going to tell you that I of course don’t want to bother you while you’re taking a break, but I wanted to ask you if you had a timeline in mind for when you might be ready to date again,” she said. “I actually have someone who is maybe a little different from the boys you’ve dated in the past, he’s a very erlicher guy, davens and learns every day, but he has a bit of an unconventional job.”

Chayala chuckled. “Still very much on vacation from dating here. But now I have to hear.”

“Well, he’s a hospice nurse. A pretty good one from what I hear.”

“Hmm. I don’t really see myself with a nurse. But I appreciate you asking, Mrs. G.”

“Oh, come on, you can give the nurse a quick coffee date,” Etty chided. “What’s two hours? Maybe Hashem wants you to marry a nurse, you never know!”

Chayala grimaced. “I think I stopped going out on ‘you never know’ dates when I was 24, and it was the best decision I ever made. Trust me, you get a sense for these things.”

Mrs. Gutmacher caught her eye. “Of course you should trust the binah that Hashem gave you. But I do want to say, I don’t think you’ll ever go wrong if you parse out the things that matter to you most, even if they might come in a package you didn’t expect. Whether that’s middos, or yiras Shamayim, or whichever qualities you prioritize the most, you might surprise yourself and enjoy the company of someone you didn’t expect to. Don’t think about what he does. It’s about who he is.”

“Okay, I’m low-key excited to take you to this place,” said Dassi, twisting in the seat of Ari’s car to face him. “It’s kind of a dump, but like, in a good way? Like, think of the total and complete opposite of every place you have ever taken me, then imagine that they serve cholent and fountain soda. That’s Ess N Fress, and it’s the best.”

Ari fed off her good mood, a smile playing at his mouth. “Opposite of where I take you, huh? Is that some sort of message you’re trying to send?”

Dassi laughed. “Yes, that I am at home in both low-end and high-end establishments, and you’re lucky to be dating such a flexible person, you’re welcome.”

They pulled into the lot, the familiar neon sign winking a hello. Ari turned off the car and surveyed the restaurant through the glass doors. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid about cholent,” she said lightly.

They walked across the parking lot and into the store, where Avremy behind the counter gave Ari a once-over and a smirk, but said nothing to Dassi, just handed her a menu that she passed to Ari.

“I’ll have the hot pastrami on club, please, with a large fountain soda. And he’ll have….” She looked at Ari, who shrugged and said, “Surprise me,” so she said, “He’ll have a pastrami cholent and a brisket fries,” and handed the unopened menu back to Avremy.

They were waiting for their order, chatting lightly, when Ari’s phone chimed. His face noticeably darkened as he read the message, and he rolled his eyes and showed Dassi his screen. “Naftali is obviously feeling guilty for his little shtick,” he said. The message read: We both know you’re going to think whatever you think, but for whatever it’s worth, you’re wrong. I didn’t send those messages. This argument is upsetting Ma, so can you please be mochel me and we can move on?

Ess N Fress’s door swung open, and Dassi looked up as she passed Ari his phone back.

“Dassi?”

Shira stood framed in the doorway’s neon-red haze, seemingly rooted to the spot. Dassi rushed forward to hug her friend, but Shira didn’t seem so enthusiastic. “Shira! Oh my gosh! I should have told Ari we would for sure bump into someone here. Ari, this is Shira, who I always tell you about!”

Ari smiled vaguely in her direction. “Nice to meet you. Dassi, I’ll wait for the food by the counter, so you guys can schmooze a little.” Dassi beamed and turned back to Shira. “How funny is this, huh? I told Ari if he wants to know the real me, this place is a part of it.” She drew Shira back a few steps and lowered her voice. “Between me and you, I’m getting as much Ess N Fress into my system before Israel, no?” she said casually.

Shira stilled. “Israel? What are you talking about?”

Dassi tossed her glossy black hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand. “Oh, I for sure mentioned it, no? Ari wants to go to Israel for the first year. I know it’s a little crazy. I thought it was nuts, too, when he first suggested it, but I warmed up to the idea. Like, why should we miss out on an iconic shanah rishonah in Israel just because we didn’t get married a decade ago? And I actually think it’s really sweet, he wants us to have a year to focus on just us, without any distractions.” Unbidden, Dassi’s mind flitted back to her fourth date with Ari, just the two of them in that big, quiet restaurant, and how it had felt to have Ari tell her he wanted to get to know her, just her, the real her, without distractions. She thought about what had changed since then, too. It felt like five minutes and five years had passed since that date.

Shira’s eyes darted toward Ari and back to Dassi. “I… don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re going to leave. And—” She took a breath. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 840)