CHAPTER 26
DANIEL’S eyes have been on Alex for the past several minutes. His bartending is awe-inspiring, a choreographed dance in which the copper-colored cocktail shakers reflect spots of amber light onto the ceiling. It’s not something Daniel’s paid much attention to before, but that’s probably because he’s always watching Liyah. Not that he isn’t engaged in the rest of the group—his gaze just regularly snares on something about her. Most any skill can be developed over time, and Daniel is becoming the world’s foremost expert on listening intently to Jordan’s and Siobhan’s dating issues while also cataloging the way Liyah twirls a cherry stem or how the moles on her left cheek jump when she smiles.
She insisted that they soldier on without her, but everything feels slightly out of place. Their table has lost a leg—if they reassemble, they could get it to stand, but as is, it keeps tipping over. One Survival Club, and he’s like this. There’s a dull ache at the thought of what would happen if their friendship ended poorly.
“Are we not interesting enough for you?” Jordan asks, severing Daniel’s line of thought.
“Sorry. Long week at work.” A lackluster and overly relied-upon excuse.
Siobhan sighs. “No, be honest. It’s weird without Liyah, isn’t it? It feels like we’re cheating on her.”
Daniel laughs. “Yeah, something like that. It’s not even hanging out with the two of you. It’s the hanging out here that gets me. It feels like Prohibition is sacred.”
Jordan leans in conspiratorially. “Y’all think Alex would be disappointed if we dipped?”
“I’ll promise to clean the bathroom next time it’s his turn if I have to.”
Siobhan sets her empty glass on a wilting cocktail napkin. “There’s a Lou Malnati’s three blocks from here. What would it take for me to convince you lot to split a deep-dish pizza?”
“Not a damn thing,” Jordan replies, already out of his seat.
Jordan’s napkin is obliterated into microscopic shreds by the time the food arrives, but the waitress’s disapproving scowl disappears when he flashes her his signature smile and wink. As soon as their server is gone, Daniel fans himself and Siobhan clutches her chest, letting out twin barks of laughter.
“I thought it was Liyah who was determined to shrink my ego.”
Daniel swallows his bite of too-hot molten cheese and sauce, shaking his head. “Nah man, she’s just the loudest.”
“It’s true,” Siobhan adds, hand hovering in front of her partially full mouth. “Why do you think we’re always laughing along with her?”
“I hate y’all,” Jordan says, but he’s grinning. “I came here under false pretenses.”
“What’s false about it? We promised pizza and good company, and that’s exactly what you’ve got.”
“Aite, moving on from Comedy Central’s Roast of Jordan Ames, can we get a Will update from Siobhan?” Jordan pauses just short of his first bite—Southern manners always remaining intact—to add: “Keeping in mind House Rule number eleven.”
Siobhan’s cheeks and chest pinken. “Listen! You asked me to keep the juicy bits to myself and I have since obliged. No Will updates, per se … but since we’re not exclusive, I went on a date with a different bloke.”
“Any good?” Daniel asks.
“Hardly. I made a joke about being a big girl—because the moment called for it and I am quite funny.” It dawns on Daniel that Siobhan would not have complimented herself in that way in front of them a few months ago. He smiles brighter. “And he had the nerve to tell me, ‘No, you’re beautiful.’” She rolls her eyes, and Daniel and Jordan wince. “First of all, I am fat, I think I’d know. And second, when did I say I wasn’t beautiful? I’d assume he thought as much since he asked to be on a date with me. I decided he wasn’t so good-looking after all and ended up in Will’s bed at the end of the night.” She eyes Jordan. “End of story, so as not to scandalize you.”
Jordan places his hands in prayer position and bows his head. “Much appreciated. And, on behalf of all men, I apologize.”
“Tentatively accepted.”
“That’s shitty. At least you got rid of him,” Daniel interjects.
Siobhan glances at Daniel and sighs into her beer. “If I’ve learned anything from Liyah, it’s that there’s plenty more shit men where he came from. If you don’t think it’s abdicating my Survival Club responsibilities to try new things and whatnot, I think I’ll stick with Will for now.”
“Dating unexclusively is overrated and exhausting. You do you,” Jordan says.
“Especially if you already know you like one person best,” Daniel finds himself adding.
Both pairs of eyes snap to him. “Speaking from personal experience?”
“Current personal experience, she means.”
Daniel nods, quickly looking down at his pizza to conceal the gesture. Not his smoothest move.
“You and Liyah always avoid talking about relationships, and you’ve been seeing someone? Way to hold out on us, man.”
Words cannot describe his relief that Jordan said someone and not each other. It seems Alex kept his promise. But Daniel still feels as if he’s been caught by Kayla all over again. “Seeing is a strong word.”
“But there is someone,” Jordan confirms—a statement, not a question. “Alex wouldn’t tell me anything, but I knew it!”
“Oooh,” Siobhan squeals. “Can we see a picture of her?”
“No,” Daniel says too quickly. “Just … gotta figure some shit out first.”
Siobhan and Jordan exchange a look. “Okay, fine. Spoilsport,” she adds before changing the subject.
On the way home, the deep dish sits poorly in his stomach. Daniel only has so many narrowly missed disasters left before something gives.
Sometime between the Damen L stop and his apartment, Daniel’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He removes it from the depths of his winter coat and uses the trusted cold weather method of swiping with his nose. His screen fills with a picture of Liyah, and with it, his chest fills with warmth. She’s in his UW Madison shirt, leaning back against a stack of hotel pillows. Her mother, from whom she has inherited much facial structure but few features, is fast asleep on her shoulder, jaw hanging open. The accompanying text message reads:
Liyah
Been stuck like this for two hours, but afraid to wake the momster by switching the show. Can you OD on house hunters? Please advise
Daniel stops in his tracks. Done for doesn’t cover it. He’s in love with her. Not enamored. In love. Like, stupidly. It’s effervescent and fizzing painfully through his arteries from his heart to his extremities, and he has to lean against a nearby building so that he doesn’t collapse with the weight of it all.
It’s bare instinct that has him thumbing through his contact list and pressing call, and for a blissful half second, his subconscious expects someone to answer.
Three ascending tones and a robotic voice brutally remind him that there’s nobody on the other end. For the first time in his life, Daniel is in love, and his father will never know about it. His mom or Kayla might pick up, but he can’t bring himself to call. It would be tantamount to saying he’s replaceable, and Aaron Rosenberg is anything but.
Was anything but.
Past tense is so morbid.
Daniel inhales deeply, frigid air stinging his lungs. “I met a girl,” he says on his out breath.
Famous last words, his dad would reply. What’s she like?
“Eomma and Kayla met her already, and they love her. Her name is Liyah, short for Aliyah. She works at a museum and loves skeletons and coffee and poking fun at me. Sweet Potato—my cat, you don’t know that I guess—might like her even more than she likes me. She’s got the quickest wit of anyone I’ve ever met.” This side street is dead at this time of night, but Daniel presses his silent phone to his ear just in case as he makes his way toward his building.
Your eomma was always smarter than me. It’s what made me fall for her. Her face didn’t hurt, either, Imaginary Dad says.
“Liyah’s so completely beautiful, it’s unreal. I love her, Dad. I wish you could meet her.” Tears well as he walks, but he makes no move to wipe them away.
Does she feel the same way?
“Sometimes, she looks at me in this careful way and I think she might, but she always says she doesn’t date and … I don’t know. I should talk to her, but I can’t figure out what to say. What do you think? What would you do?”
Imaginary Dad’s answers can only go as far as Daniel’s imagination. It’s a quiet walk the rest of the way home.
LIYAH FELL ASLEEP in her mother’s hotel room last night sometime during the fifth episode of House Hunters, never having made it out of the position she was stuck in. More importantly, never having made it into her hair wrap or so much as a scrunchie. Now, her mother is impatiently waiting on her couch as Liyah rushes through her morning routine.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t leave from the hotel. You’re beautiful without any makeup. Six letters, a plant or hilly evidence of pre-Clovis Americans.”
“Cactus. Cactus Hill is an archaeological site in Virginia.” Liyah stuffs the front of her sweater into her high-waisted jeans. “And it’s not about makeup, I needed to shower and do my hair. It was a mess after I slept with it out.” She rolls on her wool socks and exits the bedroom.
“You could have put your hair up and nobody would notice. Then I’d get to see your shayna punim.” A perennial complaint from Jackie Cohen: Liyah’s hair blocks her pretty face. “I could have loaned you a hair tie if yours wasn’t good enough.”
Liyah rolls her eyes. “Yours have metal clasps! Would you like to cut it out of my hair?” She forces her feet into her snow boots and begins the tedious process of lacing them.
Her mom slips her crossword into her purse. “You’re ready now, so it’s neither here nor there. Breakfast?”
“Yes, please.”
They walk arm in arm to a little waffle place in Wicker Park, her mother saying things like Oh, it’s so good to see you! and When will I see you next? despite the two full days they have remaining.
“How long will your exhibit be running? Dad and I won’t want to miss it,” her mom asks the moment Liyah finishes complaining about Emiliano’s antics and shovels a generous bite of waffle into her mouth.
She pouts, chews as quickly as she can, and swallows. “At least a year. You’ll be able to see it, I promise. Just let me know when and I’ll get your tickets.” Liyah replaces the piece of waffle.
“Oh, we’re so proud! I can’t wait.” Her mom reaches across the table to pat her wrist. “So, have you been seeing anybody special?”
Liyah shakes her head. “You know I don’t really date, Mom.”
Her mom tsks. “That’s what you tell me. How am I to know? Maybe you don’t want to keep your mother in the loop.”
“You want to hear about my sex life that much?”
“So, there is someone!”
“Someone I’m sleeping with, Mom. Not dating.”
“Who is he? She? They?”
“Mom,” Liyah protests.
“Are they goyishe? Is that why you won’t tell me? It would be hypocritical of me to judge, and you’re a woman, after all. Your kids will be Jewish no matter what.”
Liyah groans. “See, that’s the issue. We’re just sleeping together; I don’t want to talk about kids.” She takes a bite of eggs in the hopes that the conversation will end.
“You’re friends?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. Good friends?”
“Yes.” Liyah is surprised at her own lack of hesitation. She takes another bite of waffle.
Her mother taps her chin. “Your father and I were good friends, once.”
Liyah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but you probably always wanted more than that. You were the marriage kind, you know? That’s not who I am.” Daniel is probably the marrying type, she thinks. But whenever it happens, it will be with someone kind and normal. Who can say hello without making fun of him, who doesn’t have meltdowns in synagogue on the High Holidays. Who hasn’t dissolved into a puddle of tears while naked in his arms on more than one occasion. It would never be with her.
“Oh, sweetie, there’s no such thing. People just get to a point in life when they’re with someone they love and marriage feels like the right thing to do. I didn’t grow up dreaming of a white wedding.” And then: “You really should eat more slowly, it’s not good for your digestion.”
Liyah scrunches her nose. At the same time as her mother, she says, “Don’t make that face, you wouldn’t want it to freeze.”
Jackie laughs. “Am I really that predictable?”
“Like a broken record,” Liyah replies, and rudely places another forkful in her mouth.