CHAPTER 14
AFTER Liyah texted Daniel to inquire about his dad’s favorite dessert, he imagined that she would show up with a box from the bakery down the street. Instead, he answers the door to her holding two enormous trays of homemade carrot cupcakes.
He smiles. “I told you it was just my mom and Kayla, right?”
Liyah rolls her eyes. “Listen, I did not make two batches of cream cheese frosting just to get sassed. You gonna let me in or not? I’m sure whoever’s in 3B would love to take these off my hands.”
“Did I sass you? I meant to thank you.” He steps back, holding the door open wide and gesturing inside. “Your majesty.”
She wrinkles her nose at him in a way that is supposed to be angry but is mostly very cute, thrusting one of the trays at his free arm and waltzing into his apartment.
“You must be Liyah,” Kayla says after Daniel slides the dead bolt on the door. “I’m Kayla. It’s nice to finally meet you in your adult form.” She takes the remaining tray from Liyah and sets it on the dining table.
Liyah smiles. “Guilty as charged. But whatever Daniel’s told you about what a bully I am, I swear it’s only half true.” Kayla grins, warming to her instantly. “It’s nice to see you again, too,” Liyah finishes. She removes her coat and shoes, rounding the corner to the kitchen.
“Hey, Liyah!” Alex calls from where he’s undoubtedly been sweet-talking Daniel’s mother.
“Hello! No shift tonight?”
“Nah, still working. Just had to say hi to my favorite Rosenberg before I left,” he says, kissing Daniel’s mother on the cheek. She swats his arm in response, but her expression reads incredibly charmed.
“You must be Dr. Rosenberg,” Liyah says, facing Daniel’s mother, who is standing over the stove frying scallion pancakes.
She lifts the spatula to wave. “Please, call me Minji.”
“Nice to meet you, Minji. Thank you for having me.”
“Oh, it’s our pleasure, honey. Now, would you mind helping to set up?”
Kayla appears helpful by directing Liyah in setting the table without lifting a finger herself, a tactic she spent years perfecting on her brother. Daniel doesn’t realize he’s been standing in their apartment’s tiny foyer, useless, for several minutes until Alex approaches him on his way out.
“I’m really sorry I can’t be here, man,” he says, placing a comforting palm on Daniel’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, you can’t help that your job is nocturnal. Thank you for helping cook.”
Alex nods, slipping his arms into his leather jacket. “Yeah, of course. If you need to call me afterward, don’t hesitate, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m serious. I can always slip outside for a break, and I can probably get someone to cover the end of my shift. And I can definitely cancel on Marc with a c.”
Daniel swallows, his throat suddenly feeling thick. “I really appreciate it. I’m gonna try to get through it on my own, though.” Not really on his own, though. He’s got his mom and sister here with him. And Liyah.
Alex flashes a smile. “Okay. Just remember that you don’t have to.”
Daniel’s heart swells a little as he hugs his roommate goodbye and wishes him a good night at work. As the door swings shut, he feels a poke in his left side and turns to find Liyah with her hands on her hips.
“Are you going to make yourself useful or just let the women do the work?” she demands, eyes narrowing. Kayla laughs from behind her. The seam of Liyah’s lips is a neutral line, but with too much tension around it. Daniel has gained enough proficiency in Nonverbal Liyah to understand that this is a carefully concealed smile.
“Why do you think I invited you instead of Jordan?” he retorts.
She rolls her eyes and Daniel follows her to the kitchen to bring several serving dishes of food to the dining table. The spread is everything his dad loved to eat, to the point where none of it seems like it should be on the same plate. There’re his mom’s scallion pancakes, but also sautéed rapini, all the fixings for build-your-own veggie tacos, Buffalo chicken wings, sour beers, carrot cupcakes. He surveys the incongruous feast before him, the extra place setting for his dad, the Yahrzeit candle in a tray on his ottoman, and wonders how he’s going to get through the night without crying.
The light outside his living room window fades into a swirl of rust and magenta, denoting both sundown and the time to light the candle. His family and Liyah stand around the ottoman, his mother’s arms wrapped around his waist, his fingers interwoven with Kayla’s. Even though they’re six Jewish adults short of a minyan, they recite the Mourner’s Kaddish. His dad would have loved it, them simultaneously honoring tradition and flouting the rules. Liyah joins in on the line meant for non-mourners, her voice warm and soft. He takes his eyes off the flame to meet hers and shocks Liyah and himself by smiling.
The prayer finishes, and Kayla and his mother squeeze and release the parts of Daniel they’re holding. The air in Daniel’s apartment feels different, almost charged, as they take their places at the dinner table.
Minji Rosenberg, not for the first time at a family dinner, is the one to break the silence. “I hope you all aren’t waiting for Aaron to start, because if you are, I fear we’ll be here quite a while.”
Laughter erupts around the table, and it’s a moment before Daniel realizes that some of it is bubbling out of him. He moves through the dinner in a daze, smiling and nodding along to the anecdotes that his mother and sister share, laughing as they give Liyah the third degree. The food is delicious, as his mother’s always is, and he carefully finishes each dish before moving on to the next to avoid any unwanted flavor combinations.
Liyah taps his foot with hers while Kayla argues with their mom about the year they went to Disneyland. “You doing okay?” she says under her breath, eyes still fixed on the women of his family.
He nods. “Yeah. Thank you.”
Kayla throws a balled-up cupcake wrapper at Daniel’s head. “Noona!” he whines at the same time as his mom says “Kayla!”
She ignores them both. “You’ve been quiet the whole night. Care to share with the class?”
Their mom gives her a cold look. “If Daniel doesn’t want to speak, he does not have to. Stop pushing him.”
Daniel shakes his head. “No, no. It’s okay.” He takes a swig of his sour. “God, these are disgusting.”
“I like them,” Liyah says from his side.
Kayla chuckles. “That makes one of us. You would’ve won Dad over with that alone.”
Liyah laughs hesitantly, looking to Daniel. “It’s true. He loved funky beers. He even tried to brew some himself. He wanted to start a—what did he call it?”
“Nano-brewery,” his mom says fondly.
“Yeah, but the beer he made was somehow both flavorless and bitter.”
“Truly disgusting,” Kayla joins, shooting an encouraging smile his way.
“He, um…” Daniel quiets as he feels three pairs of eyes on him. He knows conceptually that he and his mother and sister are experiencing the same loss, but sometimes he feels so alone in it. He steels himself. If there’s anybody to talk about his dad with, it’s the other two people who loved Aaron Rosenberg most. And Liyah, who nudges his foot. “He made a batch right before he sent me off to college and left three full growlers under my bed without telling Eomma.” Daniel glances her way. She looks momentarily scandalized, but her face softens, and she shakes her head nostalgically. “He thought it would make me a hit with the other freshmen on my floor. And it did, because we bonded over how bad it was. An RA caught us with it and when I explained that it was homemade and gross and I was trying to appease my father, she let us slide with a warning. At winter break, he asked how everyone liked it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Which turns out was a mistake because he gave me more to bring back in January.” Daniel feels tears welling up in his eyes, but he’s smiling.
His mom reaches over to take his hand, and Liyah reaches under the table to squeeze his thigh. He looks up from his plate, and there’s Kayla: her usual broad smile adorned with tears streaming down her face. She rises from her seat and strides over to Daniel, wrapping her arms around him. His mom follows suit.
“We love you so much, Danny. Understand?” Daniel nods. “Good. Liyah, get in here.” And she does. Suddenly, Daniel realizes what made the air change: his entire apartment feels almost exactly like this hug.
They stay like this until his mom declares that it’s time to leave the room so Aaron may accept the offering. They pile some food onto the empty place setting and begin the work of clearing the rest of the table.
“So, she’s Black and Jewish,” his mom says as they wash and dry dishes, assembly-line style. Daniel looks around but finds that Liyah is engrossed in conversation with his sister.
“Yeah. Her dad didn’t convert like you, but she and her brother were raised Jewish.”
His mom nods. “Interesting.”
Daniel stops working on the dish he was buffing dry. If his mom has a problem with that, it’s immensely hypocritical. But she wouldn’t be the first hypocrite in an intermarriage. He tenses, squares his jaw. In Korean, he asks, “Why is that interesting?”
His mom hums, attempting to seem aloof. “You must have a lot in common with her,” she replies. His shoulders relax, and he goes back to the task at hand. “She’s very pretty,” she says, this time in English.
“Eomma!” he protests.
“She’s all the way over there with Kayla, she can’t hear me.” She uses a soapy, gloved hand to wave him off. “Are you going to tell me you don’t think she’s pretty?”
“She’s gorgeous, Mom, that’s not—”
She silences him with a knowing look. “Whenever you want to let your eomma in on your life, you just let me know. You know, Kayla calls me every week.”
Daniel groans. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”
“Are you leaving?” his mom says loudly instead of responding to Daniel. He turns to see Liyah hugging Kayla goodbye.
“Yes, unfortunately I have to be up rather early for work. Thank you so much for having me here, though. It was lovely to meet you both.”
“Yes, of course. We loved having you,” his mom says.
“Did you walk here?” Daniel asks.
“No, I drove. Didn’t want to drop the cupcakes.”
“Okay. I’ll walk you to your car?” He says it like a question, and Liyah gives him a smile of assurance.
They make the entire trip down the stairs and around the corner in silence. When they reach her car, she stops and turns toward him, looking him dead in the eyes. Her expression is like it has been the whole night, warm and comforting, and he’s so thankful that she’s here. More than he can put into words.
“Liyah,” he begins, but his voice gets stuck in the back of his throat.
She reaches up to cup his left cheek in her hand. He involuntarily presses into it, and her thumb glides over his cheekbone. “I was honored to be here,” she says.
The words have only barely left her mouth when his lips are on hers.
If he’d intended anything at all, it would have been for a chaste kiss, lips just barely parted to fit together. That’s how he’s imagined kissing her since that moment in front of SUE. Tentatively. But he did this without thinking, so that’s not what it is. He crashes into her, and Liyah’s hand moves from his cheek to the hairs at the back of his head. She tugs, and he groans, rolling his hips into her stomach, feeling her body pressed along his as he pins her to the car. His body knows how it wants to touch her, not even muscle memory from all those years ago, but bare instinct.
As his hands find purchase in her hair, her tongue swipes across his bottom lip, and his mouth opens and welcomes her into him. He is aware of every subtle repositioning, each movement creating a new cause-and-effect map in his mind. If she scrapes her nails against his scalp, he’ll tighten his grip on her hip; if he sighs into her mouth, she’ll pull his lip between her teeth. Her tongue, tracing his, is electrifying. He’s a live wire, seconds from sparking, and still all he can think of is how she tastes like cream cheese frosting and home.
Then, he feels a firm pressure on his chest, Liyah’s hand pushing him away.
LIYAH’S PALM ON Daniel’s sternum tells her that his breathing is just as ragged and labored as hers. What it doesn’t tell her, and what she really wants to know, is if he also feels every inch of his skin on fire. Her knees are weak, and she’s thankful that she has the side of the car to keep her upright.
“Daniel.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and the apology confirms what she feared, or rather knew, to be true. That this was a mistake.
Which, it had to be, because she can’t remember the last time she was kissed that intently. Certainly not when fully clothed. And she was stupid enough to lose herself in the moment, to be someone who could be kissed like that. By Daniel. A friend, presumably a person who gives a shit about her beyond how expertly she can use her tongue.
“You’re grieving. I don’t”—she struggles to catch her breath—“I don’t want you to kiss me for comfort.”
“No, Liyah, that’s not it. I’m not using you as my support blanket, or anything like that.”
“Emotions are running high, then. You can’t know what you want in this moment. And that’s okay. But we have to work together. Through January, at least.”
Daniel gives her a long look, long enough for her to take in the flush in his cheeks and his kiss-swollen lips, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Okay, then. Should we … just forget about it?”
She nods, slowly. “Already forgotten.” She lies through her teeth, still breathing heavily.
“See you and Neen at Survival Club tomorrow?” he asks.
“Right, yeah.” His hair is mussed (her fault), so she reaches up and does her best to arrange it.
“Thanks,” he says, regarding her carefully. “I’d better get back. Good night, Liyah.”
“Good night, Daniel,” she responds, and climbs into the driver’s seat of her car, willing her heart rate to slow. She doesn’t start the ignition until he disappears around the corner.
Last week, when his hand on her bare belly sent her spiraling, she’d chalked her reaction up to her empty stomach. Now, though, her stomach is too full in the way it always is after a special occasion with a Jewish family. So why could she feel his kiss in her toes?
The second she closes the door to her apartment, she picks up her phone to call Neen.
“C-J, as I’ve told you via text, my flight has not been canceled and there is no forecasted inclement weather.”
Liyah presses her knuckle into her forehead, trying to relax her brow. “Neen, that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Are you okay? You sound like you just ran a marathon.”
Liyah grimaces. “No, much worse. I kissed Daniel Rosenberg. Or he kissed me.” She waves her hands around, even though Neen can’t see her. “I don’t know, we kissed.”
Neen laughs. “Oh, finally. How was it?”
“Finally? What do you mean finally?! It’s the anniversary of his dad’s death. He was looking for comfort.”
“Are you sure that’s all it was?”
Liyah sighs. “Well, he suggested that we pretend it never happened, so I’m pretty sure.”
“Hmm. Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” she asks, rubbing at her chest, convinced she has cardiac arrhythmia. Like, medically speaking. This cannot be normal.
“Just is. Did you like the kiss?”
Liyah balks. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Neen whistles. “That good, huh? So, when are you gonna fuck him?”
“Neen!” Liyah nearly shouts into the phone. Clearly, they do not appreciate the gravity of this particular freak-out.
“Babe, you sound like you need a glass of wine and some sleep. I’ll be sharing a bed with you for the weekend, so we can hold off on deciding who’ll be in it next for a few days, okay?”
“Neen, how am I supposed to go to Survival Club meetings now? Do the sleep-in? Or the holiday party? Or any of it? Have I ruined everything?”
“Aliyah Rivka. You made it through an entire class that was TA’d by a one-night stand from the previous semester. I think you can handle one little kiss just fine.”
Liyah wants to argue, but no good reason comes to mind. “Okay, okay. You’re probably right.”
“Of course I am. See you tomorrow!”
“See ya, Neen.” The call ends.
Standing in front of her refrigerator, Liyah decides to heed some of Neen’s advice after all, and swigs directly from a mostly empty bottle of sauvignon blanc. Maybe it’ll submerge the butterflies in her stomach until they asphyxiate. One can only hope.