CHAPTER 6
SIOBHAN pushes the drunken noodles around on her plate. “What if we casually ask everyone to give their relationship status?”
Liyah blinks slowly, mm-hmming to stave off the laughter in her throat. Nothing about Siobhan taking three sips of her drink and blurting something like, Tell me, lads, any lasses waiting for you at home? would come off as casual. As sweet as the strawberry-shaped barrette that clips back her bangs? Sure. But not casual. Liyah bites her tongue, though, because even she isn’t that insensitive. “I’m not sure that would work.” She catches the stricken look in Siobhan’s eyes. “I mean, as far as looking casual. Honestly, you should just outright ask. Own it, you know?”
“Easy for you to say. You’re always so bold. I would turn red as a fire engine. You know sometimes I blush so hard it hurts?”
Liyah hides her snort behind her water glass, dropping her fork to pat Siobhan’s hand. “I don’t mean to be dismissive. I get it’s nerve-racking. I’d throw up if I had to admit having feelings for someone.”
Siobhan frowns. “Bollocks, I’ve seen you do it with my own two eyes.”
Liyah shakes her head. “You’ve seen me select hookups. It’s easy to tell if someone wants to fuck you. Especially cis men, but everyone shows it plainly if you know what to look for. It’s not the same as asking for a date.”
“I don’t think I could be bold doing that, either.” Siobhan sighs and taps her phone to check the time. They’ve got another fifteen minutes before they need to head to Prohibition.
“I know it sucks, but being direct is the best I can come up with.”
“Maybe I could bring up dating in general? Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Liyah nods hesitantly. “I mean yeah, that could work. You’re not guaranteed to find out whether he’s currently single, but it’s a start.” Liyah isn’t fond of the idea, but Siobhan is prone to a type of social nervousness that Liyah can’t fully empathize with. Insisting on doing things her way might lead the poor woman astray. Still, she is a god-awful liar, so Liyah makes a swift change of subject. Once she gets Siobhan talking about the merits of various HGTV shows, Liyah shovels some basil fried rice into her mouth.
By the time they pay their bill, Liyah is a touch too full. She’s thankful that the walk to the bar grants ten minutes for her stomach to settle. From the look on Siobhan’s face, it hasn’t done the same for her.
When they get to the alleyway, Liyah gives Siobhan’s hands a squeeze. “I see the gears grinding in there. You’re going to be fine.”
“How do you know?” Siobhan bites her lip, looking toward the door.
Liyah gives a smile. “You already thought he was cute last time. So cute that you blackmailed me into helping you see him again.”
Siobhan frowns. “I didn’t blackmail you, I guilt-tripped you. And you weren’t even the one who came up with the Survival Club.”
“I agreed to it! That’s more than enough,” Liyah says. “Anyway, my point is that you were already attracted to him, right?” Siobhan nods. “See! You spent a few hours with him, and he still wanted to hang out more. You did great.”
Siobhan nods again, this time a little more energetically. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Also, you’re hot.” Liyah doesn’t have to dig deep to find this reassurance; it’s plainly true. Beyond her endearing freckles and bright eyes, Siobhan is soft and wide everywhere, body curved with the elegant lines of a renaissance painting (though the swell of her hips and belly far surpass what fifteenth-century Europeans imagined for Aphrodite). Had she not been Liyah’s coworker and ostensibly heterosexual, Liyah may have harbored a crush of her own. “Everybody loves an accent,” she adds. This earns Liyah the laugh she intended. Satisfied, they start toward the bar.
They were running what Liyah would consider to be on time (fewer than twelve minutes late) prior to the pep talk. As such, they find that Daniel and Jordan have already snagged a table and their first round of drinks.
Siobhan inhales deeply, her line of sight snapping straight to Jordan. Liyah is surprised at his casual dress, though she supposes in the absence of a mandatory work party, he had time to go home and change. He wears a very plain (but muscle-accentuating) gray T-shirt and blue jeans that are cuffed to reveal a truly incredible pair of Nike high-tops. Her sixteen-year-old brother, Avi, would love them. Not that he needs more shoes. His collection is already spilling over into the closet of Liyah’s childhood bedroom.
Daniel looks dressed for an entirely different event in a button-down that seems to be Frankenstein’d from two separate shirts, an oversized pocket once belonging to the white half sewed onto forest green. It’s the kind of shirt that needs to be seen in broad daylight to determine whether it’s a work of art or better suited as tinder for a bonfire. She wants to bet the latter, but there’s something about how it sits on his shoulders under the low incandescent lights. When Daniel catches her eye and waves, she sees that his shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows.
“Tell me, have you heard of short-sleeved shirts?” Liyah says once they reach the table.
Daniel pauses before answering, rightfully wary. “As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Pro tip: if you wear one, you don’t have to wrinkle your cuffs trying to prove to the world that you have forearms.”
“Hello to you, too.” Daniel chuckles and slides two drinks across the table. “Old-fashioned for you, cranberry dawn for you.”
Liyah plucks the stem off the cherry from her drink and sets it on her napkin. As she chews, the rest of the group exchanges much less snarky greetings.
“So.” Jordan cracks his knuckles. “What’s on the agenda for therapy tonight?”
“Hey! We haven’t started our drinks yet. The benefit of holding our sessions here is that we’re not required to be stone-cold sober,” Siobhan argues. Flirtatiously. It seems so effortless that Liyah is confused as to what she had been so worried about on the walk over.
Jordan holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. No Survival Club talk until y’all give us the signal.”
“You know, you’d be at least halfway through your drink if you got here on time,” Daniel says.
Liyah rolls her eyes. “Half this group runs on JST; I assumed the start time was more of a suggestion.”
“JST?”
“Jewish Standard Time,” Daniel and Liyah answer Siobhan simultaneously.
Daniel continues. “Some of us have managed to transcend our ethnic stereotypes in favor of punctuality.”
“You were late to work yesterday, man.”
Liyah snort-laughs.
“That’s ’cause I’m a CTA patron, not ’cause I’m Jewish,” Daniel protests.
Liyah reaches over to pat his exposed forearm. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Daniel Rosenberg.”
THEY’RE ON THE topic of dating. Somehow, it’s not even Jordan’s fault. This was bound to come up eventually, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant. Siobhan bemoans not knowing how to get back into the scene after breaking up with her boyfriend back in Ireland a year ago. Which means they’re treated to Jordan’s sage dating advice, including how once you figure out which app to use for what, it’s easy to find a girl you like. Daniel’s about to explain how wrong Jordan is, but Liyah beats him to the punch.
“That’s because you’re a straight Black man. For better and definitely for worse, racial stereotypes can work in your favor on dating apps.” She takes a healthy swig of her third old-fashioned. Daniel wonders if she orders them for the cherry; each time Alex fixes her a new one, she pops the fruit in her mouth first. There’s a growing pile of stems on the napkin in front of her. “Daniel and I, on the other hand, get the short end of the stick. Statistically speaking.”
Daniel laughs. “Ah, so I could’ve been blaming it on statistics this whole time.”
She nods. “You could and you should.” She pauses, considering. “I mean, we do benefit from colorism and the fact that being mixed is, like, a trend now, but still. I’d bet good money that women make opposite assumptions about your guys’ respective endowments.” It’s a good thing Daniel had paused before taking another drink, or he’d be choking right now.
Siobhan turns a shade of crimson. “Liyah!”
“What? There have literally been studies on this.” She gestures to Daniel and Jordan with her straw. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Daniel blushes as Jordan gives a smug smile. Asshole. “You’re not wrong.”
“Case in point. I have a million and one horror stories. I’m sure Siobhan does, too. I don’t think any woman survives unscathed.”
Siobhan shakes her head. “I’ve never used the apps, to be honest.”
“Ah. Well, don’t listen to Jordan, I don’t recommend it. And don’t get me started on gold star–obsessed lesbians.”
Daniel pauses. She’s gay. This catches Daniel off guard, disappointment tumbling through his chest. Misplaced disappointment. Since when do the sexualities of his quasi-coworkers-slash-reluctant-drinking-buddies matter to him?
“Lesbians give star ratings for hookups?” Jordan asks, giving Daniel an unwanted mental picture of what he types into the Pornhub search bar.
“What? No, Jordan. Gross. It’s a, like, purity thing. You’re only a gold star if you’ve never had sex with a man, which cuts out bi women for obvious reasons. Most people aren’t like that, but y’know, it still sucks.”
Okay, not a lesbian. Misplaced relief, this time. But just because she’s interested in men in general does not mean she’s interested in him. And, again, he reminds himself, it shouldn’t matter. “I have to agree. Not that I’ve ever been asked about my star rating. But I’ve heard ‘I don’t usually find Asian men attractive, but…’ a lot.” Also, the dick size stuff, but he is really not keen on rehashing that part of the conversation. He’s never had any complaints, which is something he might feel compelled to share if they keep harping on the idea of small penises. Something tells him that would break House Rule #3.
“See! Dating is all on apps now, and apps are terrible. Ergo, dating is terrible.” Liyah purses her lips.
“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Jordan says.
She frowns. “You need to liberate yourself, Jordan. Stop subscribing to the lie constructed by Godiva or whoever to convince you to spend thirty bucks on chocolate every February.”
“I’m learning so much about your worldview,” Daniel says, enjoying the jolt in his belly at having Liyah’s full attention shift toward him. “Were puppies invented by landlords so that they could charge you an extra deposit? Is salt the brainchild of hypertension?”
Her eyes narrow at him. “Salt and puppies are real, tangible things.”
“What, and love isn’t?” Jordan asks.
Liyah rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “I think I’ve said enough. I don’t want to give poor Jordan a heart attack.”
“You’re seriously going to say that love isn’t real?” Jordan repeats.
“Not love, per se. Romance. Romantic love, I don’t know.” She waves her hands around. “My point is that dating is shitty, often made shittier by factors out of your control. This is an observable fact, I’m not just grouchy.”
Siobhan laughs. “You’re usually grouchy about something.”
“No! I’m realistic.”
Daniel takes the opportunity to reach over and pat Liyah’s arm. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Oscar.” This garners a light chuckle from Jordan, hysterical laughter from Siobhan, and a flesh-penetrating glare from Liyah.
“Alright.” She slaps her hands down on the table, standing up. “I need a tequila shot if we’re going to be doing any more of this therapy. Any takers?” There’s a chorus of agreement, and she stalks off to the bar. More pairs of eyes than just Daniel’s follow the oscillation of her hips as she moves. She doesn’t seem to notice, and he imagines there would be a lot of tellings-off if she did. He laughs softly at the thought.
Soon, Liyah returns, clutching a saltshaker and four small glasses adorned with limes. Together, they complete the salt-tequila-lime ritual, resulting in varying grimaces.
Liyah, face returning to neutral after she squeezes her eyes shut at the bitterness, says “L’chaim,” and slams the glass down on the table. This begets House Rule #4 on the napkin contract:
Liyah and Daniel will explain Hebrew and Yiddish phrases for the uninitiated
“I’m surprised you like tequila. I was beginning to think you only drink for the fruit.” Daniel gestures to her stash of cherry stems.
“Tequila comes with a lime,” Siobhan points out.
“You can’t do this with a lime, though.” Liyah plucks a cherry stem from her pile and places it on her outstretched tongue. As she pulls it into her mouth, the rest of the Survival Club watches, rapt. Her cheeks suck in and out, her tongue bobbing around for several seconds before she pinches the end of the stem between her middle finger and thumb. She withdraws it slowly, holding it up for the group. When Daniel drags his gaze away from her lips, he sees a tight knot at the center of the stem. He would not trust himself to stand up right now. She grins wickedly.
Daniel coughs. “You certainly can’t.”
“Wait, how do you do that? I’ve always wanted to know!”
Liyah launches into an explanation for Siobhan, going back and forth between open and closed-mouth demonstrations. Thankfully, this looks sillier and less …
“You might wanna rehinge your jaw, man,” Jordan whispers to Daniel.
“Shut the fuck up,” Daniel says, more tightly than intended. Sure, the girls are distracted, but Jordan has a bit of a hubris problem.
Jordan lifts his hands in surrender, laughing. “Just playing.”
Daniel shakes his head. “I’m going to get another round.” He takes his leave and Jordan reinserts himself by asking for a demonstration of his own. Surprisingly, Liyah guides him with the patience of a preschool teacher.
“One sec, Daniel,” Alex says by way of greeting as he approaches the bar. He watches his roommate rapidly skin a grapefruit and drop perfectly curled peels into four champagne flutes. Alex sprays what must be edible glitter into each glass before sending them on their way with the server. “Alright, roomie. What can I do you for?”
“Same drinks for everyone, I think.”
“Next time, convince your friends to try something new. I didn’t develop this whole cocktail menu for nothing, you know.”
Daniel smiles. “When what you’ve given us is already so good, it’s hard to venture out.”
“What are you buttering me up for?” Alex clucks his tongue. “Did you clog the sink shaving again?”
“No. Speaking of … I never asked, but who was over last week?”
Alex leans back, a few curls falling away from his forehead. “How is that speaking of shaving?”
Daniel shrugs. “It’s not, but I didn’t have a better segue.”
Alex shakes his head. “That was Marc, with a c,” he says.
“Will Marc with a c be coming around again, or have you broken another heart?” Daniel asks.
Alex laughs. “Only time will tell, my friend.”
They stay until nearly one in the morning, and Siobhan yawns uncontrollably. She laments that she’s likely to fall asleep on her bus, so Jordan offers to split an Uber with her. Liyah is weirdly encouraging of this idea, and Daniel can’t tell if she’s eager to ensure her friend has a way home safe or if maybe …
Better not to get his hopes up. Regardless, Daniel and Liyah end up next to each other, knees just barely touching—which is in no way intentional on his part—in a completely empty blue-line car.
Liyah releases a small laugh. “What?” Daniel asks.
“It’s just … it’s Friday night. We’re spending Shabbat together again. But with tequila.”
Daniel smiles. “Do you think Rabbi Joe would be disappointed in us?”
“Oh, immensely,” she says.
“When was the last time you did Shabbat for real?”
Liyah tilts her head, squinting. “I honestly don’t know. I’m more of a twice-a-year Jew, you know?”
He does know. Daniel can’t remember the last time he was in shul outside of the High Holidays since his youngest cousin’s bar mitzvah. “Passover seders and shul for Yom Kippur?”
She nods. “I usually make it in for Rosh Hashanah, too, so I guess technically thrice. I also light candles on Chanukah, but I don’t really think that counts.”
“You’re better than me. I don’t usually make it in for Rosh Hashanah, but I do have dinner with my family.”
“I don’t think God has done any smiting lately, so you’re probably good.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God?” he asks, making eye contact with Liyah’s reflection in the opposite window.
“I don’t. I’m in it for the tradition. I like knowing that I’m doing the same thing Jews across the world have been doing for centuries.”
Daniel thinks of Havdalah at camp, everybody standing arm in arm around the circle, feeling the warmth of fire from a braided candle, the smell of spices and the blend of voices in song, and Liyah tucked at his side. He hasn’t done it since, but it was always his favorite ritual. “I get that. I still haven’t decided what I believe. The world is a very big place.”
“Yeah,” she says. “What’s your stop?” Liyah turns her head to look up at Daniel, and he’s happy to have an excuse to look back. They’re sitting close enough for him to see the faint sunspots scattered across her cheeks.
He swallows. “Damen. You?”
Her eyes widen. “Wait, where do you live? Mine’s Division.”
“I’m in Wicker Park.”
She lets out a whistle. “I’m on the border of East Village and Noble Square. That’s crazy, we’ve been neighbors this whole time and met again on a flight from San Francisco.”
Daniel wants to comment on how friendly she’s being, but it’ll ruin the moment. Instead, he says, “Small world, I guess.”
“Ah, contradictory evidence! Does this tip you more toward faith or atheism?”
Daniel thinks for a moment, then grins. “If I knew the answer to that, I might have made up my mind already.”
The LED display flashes DIVISION all too soon. Daniel hesitates but decides to stand up and offer Liyah a hug goodbye. She looks at him blankly, feet rooted to the floor of the car. His arms are almost back at his sides when Liyah tucks perfectly into him, her curls tickling the underside of his chin, warmth spreading from every point where their bodies connect. She smells faintly of tequila, but also of lavender and something he can’t quite put his finger on. Before he has time to debate what it might be, she’s gone.
SSC #3 MEETING NOTES
Secretary: Jordan
• Talking to bosses
• From Siobhan: not sure how to end casual conversation w/ boss
• Liyah: say you’re excited to get back to work
• Daniel+Jordan second this
• Jordan: personal questions you don’t want to answer?
• Siobhan: subject change
• Dating
• From Liyah: “literally all you have to do to get a guy to sleep with you is touch his arm”
• Siobhan: that can’t be true
• Daniel+Jordan can neither confirm nor deny
• General adult life
• Siobhan doesn’t understand American tax system
• Explanation too difficult over drinks, will return to it in spring
• Everyone: Daniel+Alex need renter’s insurance
• Dumbass
• Rule addition: 5. Siobhan must explain Gaelic words and Irish slang