“M

ommy, Dan’s coming to pick me up around 6:30. Will you be home? I’d like you to meet him.”

Mrs. Steinberg huffed. “I’ll be home. Should Abba meet him, too?”

“I’d love him to, but it’s such short notice. Do you think he’ll be home in time?” Truth is, Nechama was nervous about her parents meeting him. He so unconventional, so different from what she’d always been looking for, and her parents were very nervous about his BT status. Was it worth getting them involved? But they’d been dating for a few weeks. Nechama couldn’t deny she liked him, and thanks to Dovid, her parents were keeping quiet. She couldn’t deprive them of this.

At precisely 6:30, her parents answered the door. Nechama hoped Dan wouldn’t catch their hostility. She thought she was safe all the way into the city and through ordering. But after the waiter left, Dan turned to her.

“Nikki, you seriously still live with your parents?”

“Yes.”

“You realize that’s weird, right?”

She winced. Well, he’d said he was direct.

“In my world, most girls stay home until they’re married.”

“I cannot believe that. Here you are, a successful woman, you have your own business, a life, and you’re living with your parents. It doesn’t drive you crazy?”

“It would be weirder if I left home. It’s not how we do things.”

“Children aren’t meant to live with their parents forever, you know.”

“No,” she agreed. “They’re meant to get married and build their own home.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

“Not a single Orthodox guy to marry? What does ‘the right guy’ look like?”

“Well,” Nechama said, “I’ve always wanted someone who was committed to a Torah lifestyle. I wanted him to learn in kollel, like Rabbi Heller, but all day. I want a guy I could enjoy spending time with, someone I can respect, someone whose… worldview matches mine, so we’d agree automatically when… I don’t know… stuff happens.”

She paused as the waiter brought them their food.

“Which blessing do I do first?” Dan asked. “The steak or potatoes? I forget.”

“Potatoes,” Nechama said, hoping Dan would let the conversation slide, but knowing he wouldn’t — he was a lawyer, after all.

He waited until they’d each started their food, then said, “In other words, you don’t want to marry someone like me.”

“I didn’t say that, I—”

“Yes, you did. You want someone learned, still studying. Someone from your world, your culture. Someone who won’t be shocked — horrified, really — that you live with your parents. I’m fine on the big-ticket things, I believe in the Torah, I’m learning, but I’ll never be the guy you’ve always wanted to marry.”

Nechama was silent, thinking.

“Well, here’s the thing. I’m not married yet. And I’ve dated quite a few guys who want the same things I do. We weren’t compatible. There were a few over the years where I thought maybe, but it didn’t work out.” Nechama stopped.

“What?”

“I’m horrifying myself, actually. Am I seriously telling you that no guy has ever wanted to marry me?”

Dan laughed. “Hey, you’re still single. Unless you’ve jilted guys in the past?”

“No, no, no. No worries.”

They were silent for a few minutes.

“I wouldn’t… be here if I didn’t think it…. I don’t date for fun. I—”

“It’s been fun, though, hasn’t it?” Dan interjected, grinning.

“It has.” Nechama smiled, too. “That’s why we’re here. This wasn’t my idea, you recall. I told you it was a no-go.”

“And I told you I’d change your mind.” Dan gave the same self-deprecating laugh that had echoed in her mind all those weeks. “It’s very different where I come from,” he said after a pause. “I’m past dating for fun. I’m ready to settle down. But I’ve never mapped my life the way you have. I want to marry someone I enjoy being with, someone I can love and respect, a person of integrity. Beyond that? What’s beyond that?”

“W

hat kind of lawyer are you again?” Nechama asked.

It was almost two weeks after Dan had met her parents. He’d had a nice time, he told her after dropping her off at home, her parent’s home, but he didn’t call or text her for a few days, and she alternated between feeling anxious and relieved that it was out of her hands. Her parents had been impressed by him, but still, Nechama could tell they were hoping it didn’t work out. He’d make a great husband for someone else, but as their own son-in-law?

But when Dan finally asked her out again, she was relieved, and she supposed her acceptance was too eager for her to lead anyone on. But here they were now, at Axe Brooklyn.

“Corporate. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out why you thought it was a good idea to have me throw axes around. My brothers won’t go near me if I pick up a baseball. I’ll probably need criminal defense at the end of this, if you have any good recs.”

Dan laughed. “It’s safe, don’t worry. Open to amateurs.”

“You think. But you’ve never seen me. One wrong move and wham! Not so safe anymore.”

“Okay, you have a strong case. But I graduated batting cages years ago. Shooting range?”

Nechama eyed Dan. “You want to be wounded? Here I am telling you not to trust me with a golf club, and you ask for a gun? Go for it! I’ll just have you sign a waiver to cover my defense. Give me a minute to call my lawyer first.”

“So what sport do you play?”

“You’re serious? You call this a sport? Unless… you trying to get back at me for dinner last week?” Nechama looked at him from the corner of her eye.

“How’d you guess?” Dan said. “It hit me so bad that I’m willing to put myself under the line of fire, again.”

“Literally,” Nechama said, laughing. “Axe throwing it is then. Make sure to get yourself strong armor, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Nechama wasn’t surprised when she enjoyed — anything with Dan was fun. But to her shock and delight, she found she could throw an axe.

“Archery next week?” she asked as they were leaving. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for shooting.”

“Sure,” Dan replied, and Nechama colored, realizing that she’d effectively asked him out. Had she lost all her bushah?

“N

echama, it’s your life. Don’t listen to other people.”

Easy for Dovid to say.

“It’s not ‘other people.’ It’s my parents. And they make valid points.”

“Like?”

“I told you we went on a picnic last week? So Dan wanted bring food along, said he’s this great cook, and I thought that was really cute, but how could I let him? I have no clue if I can trust his kashrus. How can I marry a guy if I can’t allow him in the kitchen?”

“Ding-ding. Do you have any clue how many men treif up their kitchens? Especially if he likes to cook. You’ll figure it out together, red pots, blue pots, I don’t know. And he’ll be careful. He knows what he doesn’t know.”

“And saying Shema with the kids, learning with them?”

“Ding-ding. You have no kids yet. And they’re certainly not ready for avos u’banim, are they? So maybe Dan doesn’t know everything. But Chaim Heller says he listens and learns and wants to grow. Give him time.”

“Fine, but what about his clothing? I can’t marry a guy in jeans.”

“Well, he’ll probably wear a suit to his wedding.”

“Not funny.” Nechama sat down on Dovid’s lawn swing and pushed her feet off the ground.

“Listen, I can’t promise he’ll ever subscribe to the yeshivish dress code, although Heller says he wouldn’t put it past him, if he buys into the system. How does he dress on dates?”

“Never in jeans. If it’s after work, he’s still in a suit. On Sundays it’s been khakis and a T-shirt. I — it didn’t bother me then. I like spending time with him, I know he’s not yeshivish and honestly, I’d be nervous if he was already into white shirts and black pants after being frum this long. Or short. Whatever.” She thought about what Dan had said about what he was looking for. Did externals really matter?

“So?”

“Still, it’s a lot. I’ve always tried to be open in dating, I’ve gone out with working guys, divorced guys, I dated that one with kids. I’m fine with who Dan is, but still. I know this is stupid, but I can just see the whole extended family on a Chol Hamoed trip and Dan in khakis. He wouldn’t care if he thought there was nothing wrong with it.”

Dovid said nothing.

“Which is great!” Nechama said unconvincingly. “He cares about what matters, he’s growing and taking new things on and it’s all wonderful, really. But can I deal with it?

“And, like, sometimes it’s cute when he calls me Nikki, but it bothers me when he stumbles over Nechama. And even sometimes on dates, it can get awkward, like if he asks me about brachos and stuff. Not that he feels awkward, he’s fine with it, but I don’t want to be my husband’s teacher.”

“I hear.” Dovid paused. “It’s your decision, obviously. But for what it’s worth, I think he’s a great guy. I like him, he’s a mensch and smart and capable. I think he’s getting there, and I think he’ll want to make his wife happy. That’s important, Nechama. He’ll make a great husband and that’s what matters. But I’m not the one marrying him. I can’t decide for you.”

“H

ey, you open Sunday? I got tickets to the Yankees game. Doubleheader.”

Nechama frowned into her coffee. She’d mellowed a lot since she’d met Dan, but a baseball game? Wasn’t that going too far?

“What?” Dan asked. “You can’t be a Mets fan.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“No, don’t worry, I don’t know the first thing about baseball. I’m just not sure I’m comfortable going to a game.”

“Comfortable?”

“The atmosphere, the players — everything. It… it goes against everything I value.”

“Seriously?” Dan asked. “Even Rabbi Heller follows baseball. Is he less frum than you now?”

But does he go to games? Nechama didn’t ask. “I wouldn’t stop you from going to a game, Dan. But — can’t you go with friends?”

“What, this is something else you never thought a guy you’d date would do?” There was no self-mockery in Dan’s tone, only hurt. “Is everything in my world so terrible? Forget the 613 mitzvos I thought I was taking on, you bring in so many other rules. Where does it say ‘Thou shalt not attend a baseball game’?”

Nechama didn’t answer. What could she say? The coffee scalded her throat.

“Can I think about it?” she asked, her voice low.

“Think about it?” Dan mocked. “You’ve already told me how you feel.”

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away behind another gulp of her too-hot coffee. Let her have something to blame the tears on. This was a side to Dan she hadn’t seen before.

Dan stood abruptly, his cup still half-full. “Let’s go.”

He rounded on her when they’d exited. “You know my friends are not observant, right? They’re not even all Jewish.” He paused, took a deep breath, then continued. “Have you thought about that at all? About how my friends think I’m crazy? I’ve flipped, won’t join them for pizza or beer, won’t meet them on Saturdays. I wear this yarmulke, pray three times a day, everything. I’ve changed my entire life. I’ve done it because I believe in it, I think it’s the right thing to do, but it’s hard, and—”

“Dan, I’m sorry, I—”

But Dan wasn’t finished. “Look, Nikki, I like you. I think we could make this work. But it has to be a relationship. We need to meet in the middle. I respect where you are, but I’m not there. And I need someone who can respect me where I am.”

“Dan, please! I respect you, I really do. You’ve come a long way, traveled farther than me…” Nechama stopped, swallowed. “Compromise is important, of course. But we both need to be comfortable. Like now. I’d never take baseball away from you. But why do I need to come?”

Dan took another breath. “It’s not the game, Nikki, it’s the attitude.” He drained his coffee and threw his cup into the trash can outside the shop, then started walking to the car, not even checking to see if she was with him. “I hate to say this, and I’ve done my best to look past it, but I get the impression sometimes that you feel like you’re on a higher plane, you’re just waiting for me to get there.”

Nechama blushed, wishing she could deny his accusation.

They reached the car. Dan drove in silence, turning to her only after pulling in front of her house. “I could handle the game if it was a one-off. But it’s not. I don’t see this working if you can’t respect me for who I am, where I am, now.”

Nechama nodded, afraid to talk. She opened the car door and put one foot on the ground.

“I’ll let you know,” she whispered, and ran before he could see her tears.

“N

u, what’s his name?” Leah asked as she parked.

“Werner.”

“Werner? Moishe? That guy I went out with two years ago?”

Nechama shook her head.

“Or… there’s another Werner, an accountant or something. Shlomo? Shalom? Something.”

Nechama laughed. “Something. Dan. You wouldn’t know him.”

“Out-of-town?”

“No, from here. Long Island. He’s a baal teshuvah.” She wished Dan could hear her say it; she was fine with it. But Nechama knew there was a difference between informing a good friend, a good single friend, and the rest of the judgmental world.

“Oh.”

“He’s pretty fresh, actually. But he’s a good guy.”

“So we’re hitting Nordstrom first? Vort dress?”

“No. I… think it’s over.”

“Oh, Nechama. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Nothing like a little retail therapy. Lead the way.”

But suddenly Nechama didn’t feel like shopping. She felt herself blinking back tears — again.

She didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until Leah took her hand and pulled her to the side.

“Okay, change of plans,” her friend ordered. “You want to go for coffee or stay here? We could sit in Macy’s bathroom.”

The lounge there was a longstanding joke. They’d held more than one pity party there, when the shopping hadn’t been enough.

“I’m fine,” Nechama whispered.

“No, you’re not.” Leah turned back to the parking lot.

They drove to Cuppa Joe in silence. Of course, it had to be the same one Nechama had been to with Dan just two days before. She found herself glancing at the garbage can outside the front door and shuddered, remembering.

Leah found a table and told Nechama to sit. “I’ll get the coffees. Don’t move.”

She came back with a large slice of blueberry cheesecake.

“My treat,” she said. “I can’t eat, date tonight. But you need this.” She pushed the plate to Nechama. “Spill.”

Nechama took a bite of cheesecake and sip of coffee. Another bite of cheesecake. Another sip.

“Dan’s a great guy. Sweet, sincere, funny. But he’s fresh and the bridge is too wide, however that saying goes.”

“Fresh how?” Leah asked. Of course she would ask.

“He’s a lawyer. He became frum through some lunch-and-learn program.”

“How long ago?” Leah wouldn’t stop.

“About a year and half. I don’t know exact dates.” Nechama felt herself getting defensive. She didn’t want to talk to Leah, she realized. Didn’t want her judging Dan. “You’ll never believe, but I met him through a client.”

Nechama recounted the story, hoping to turn the conversation to Amy.

“Wow,” Leah shook her head. “I know you’re all about compromise, Nechama, we’ve talked about that before.” She laughed. “But you’re the last holdout for a learning guy. Now this?”

Nechama bristled. “He’s a good guy. He’s real. Real about life, about growing. That’s a lot more than you can say about a lot of the guys we’ve dated.”

She looked around the coffee shop, decided she’d never come here again if she could help it. It did not seem like a pleasant place for conversation.

“Ooh, someone’s getting prickly,” Leah teased. “What’s the whole big deal then? You fighting about TV?”

“No!” Nechama all but shouted. She scooped some blueberry sauce onto her spoon. “He’s okay with no TV.” He knew it meant a lot to her, but with someone else…. No point telling Leah that, though.

“Yeah, well, he’ll just stream whatever he wants to watch on his phone,” Leah said.

Nechama stared. “What is wrong with you?”

“Just stating the facts. You’ve been AWOL for months, there must have been something there. What?”

“Who asked you?”

“You. Or why are we here?” Leah sounded confused and hurt.

“Yeah, well. He’s not holding there. He’s very honest about himself, where he’s at. He’s still learning, growing.”

“So what is it?”

But Nechama had had enough. She needed someone to talk to, true. But it should be a rav, a mentor, not Leah. Dovid? She wondered what he’d say. He liked Dan, wanted this to work; would he agree with the line she’d drawn?

“Nothing,” Nechama said.

She didn’t like what Leah was doing. She wasn’t dating Dan, seriously considering a future with him, because she didn’t want to stay single forever. If she went ahead, it would be because of who Dan was and the life they could build together. She couldn’t jeopardize that before she’d figured it out.

She took another bite of cheesecake and looked up.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this, Leah. I’m sorry.” She finished her coffee. “Let’s go home. Get you ready for your date.”

She stood up and walked to the front. As she waited for Leah to pay, Nechama texted Dan.

We need to talk.

He replied immediately.

Yeah. Spoke to Rabbi Heller.

And then:

You available Sunday?

Nechama felt herself grinning.

Only after the game.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 618)