“What? You want to call me directly? Aren’t you supposed to go through the matchmaker?”
“I think we can take it from here,” Ephraim said and looked uneasily at his watch.
In her circles, requests for a second date always went through the shadchan, the one who set them up first. He wanted to call her directly and not have his mother talk to Suri? And if so, why did he say maybe — did that mean he was unsure he’d call her? Did that mean “maybe” he’d call her if he had nothing better to do, or “maybe” he’d call if his rabbi told him to, or was “maybe” a polite way of saying “no, he wouldn’t be calling,” — or was it a “yes?” She really did not understand his world.
“Well, I really must get back to school now,” he said with a smile. And then he turned his back on Hindy and left her all alone in Central Park.
Hindy had stood up as well, to be polite, but was surprised when he simply left. Her mother would be shocked; their shadchan would be horrified. Where she came from, girls were picked up and dropped off at home. Ephraim had asked her to meet him in the city, which was quite unusual, but as she didn’t have too many dating opportunities, her parents encouraged her to comply. But to simply leave? It hadn’t even occurred to them as a possibility.
She looked around and saw trees, grass, big rocks, and trails that seemed to meander endlessly — but no familiar landmarks, no familiar faces. Hindy was lost. Now she stood in place, abandoned and frightened, for she didn’t know how to get home. She’d met Ephraim earlier in front of a museum, and he’d walked with her to the park. But she had no clue how to get back. She realized it would be best for her to try to find the subway and retrace the way she’d come, so she started walking through Central Park.
A homeless man approached her, his strong smell extending further than his outstretched hand. Did he want to mug her — or worse?
“Hey, lady, can you spare a dime?”
She was about to open her purse, but then realized he might try to mug her. “I’m s-sorry, no,” she stuttered and walked briskly away. But this wasn’t the path she’d come on — was it? She didn’t know where she was going, and she started to run.
She ran past the grassy hills, past the huge rocks that had been deposited by glaciers thousands of years before. She ran and ran, in her heels and angora sweater, on a brisk Sunday afternoon in March. She ran in the mud and over rocks, realizing she was hopelessly lost.
“Please God, help me,” she prayed as she ran. “I don’t want to be alone. Not now, not ever.”
Out of breath, she came to a more public area full of children playing Frisbee with their fathers, people walking dogs, and families picnicking in the grass. Feeling safer, Hindy collapsed on a bench. She looked down at herself, surveying the damage. Her shoes were muddied, and she felt sweat streaming down her face. She hated feeling like this. She tried hard to look as put together as possible to make up for her lack of physical beauty; when she looked messy, she felt out of control.
Thinking about her lousy date, and how foolish she’d been not to bring more money with her — at least enough for a cab — Hindy Goldfarb sat on a bench in Central Park, alone, and cried. “Nobody wants me, God!” She wiped her tears with her angora sleeve. “I accept Your ways, but I don’t understand. Why did you have to make me so ugly?” Hindy kicked a rock near her foot with her muddied shoes. “Why does Shayna get to marry a guy like Shimshon Kaplinsky, just because she’s pretty? Is this just, God? Is it? All my friends are getting married and having these great lives and I am alone! And Aryeh Kaufman — God, how can you do this to me? How can you have somehow made Aryeh my best friend, only to take him away from me? I can’t even have a close friend? Do You hate me? Do You hate me — because I’m so ugly, God?”
Hindy sat and waited for a reply.
None came.
Rachel lay in her hospital bed, an IV protruding from an arm vein, her face looking more like a purple ball than a face. She wore a soft cast around her neck and stiffer casts on her right arm and leg, where she had taken the greatest impact from the colliding car.
She lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She turned her head.
Jacob had been dozing in the chair next to her bed. He woke, looked up, and noticed that she too was awake.
“Rachel, you’ve been in an accident.” Jacob spoke softly.
Rachel blinked. What was Jacob doing here?
“It’s Jacob. Jacob Zohar, Ilana’s cousin.”
“Where am I?” she asked in a weak voice.
“In Maimonides Medical Hospital. You had a concussion, and you broke your leg. Your arm is injured, too, but not broken. They say you’ll be just fine. They want to discharge you.”
Tears slid down the slits that were her eyes.
Dr. Fischer entered the dimly lit room clicking his pen.
“Insurance rules,” he said to Jacob. “We have to send her home.”
“But it’s only been twelve hours. Don’t you think she needs more surveillance?”
“No. We’ve done what we could, and she’s had all the necessary tests. The rest you can handle as an outpatient.”
A nurse scuttled in and removed Rachel’s IV.
Jacob gaped at the doctor. “How can you send her home now? She’s in no condition to move.”
Dr. Fischer cleared his throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He clicked his pen and scribbled on his clipboard.
“But her brothers are in Jersey and can’t get away from work just yet. Her parents are in Florida. Nobody has their hotel number — they still don’t know what’s happened to Rachel.”
Dr. Fischer shrugged. “Are you Jacob Zohar?”
“Yes, but — ”
“Look, it’s your name on the hospital admission records, listed as next of kin.” Dr. Fischer adjusted his stethoscope. “I don’t have time to go through every New York borough looking for someone who’ll take care of her.”
“I’m not asking you to do that, Dr. Fischer. But she obviously needs to recuperate more before being moved.”
“I’m sorry.” The doctor shook his head. “It’s hospital policy. Triage. We need the beds. We have people coming in every minute and not enough space. There is nothing more we can do for her here.”
Dr. Fischer handed Jacob a few forms and prescriptions from his clipboard and had the nurse bring a pair of crutches. “She’ll need these for a while,” he said and exited as abruptly as he’d entered.
Rachel looked up at Jacob, feeling confused and scared.
“I guess you’re coming home with me, then,” he said.
He helped her sit and then ease onto her crutches; every part of her body exploded in pain.
Where were her parents? Where was Daniel? Was he still alive? She was too exhausted to ask.
She had to catch her breath as she forced herself to walk on one foot as she exited the hospital beside Jacob.
“That’s it. You can do it, Rachel.” Jacob gently nudged Rachel into the back of his father’s old green Volvo, placing her crutches on the floor.
Images from the previous night when she’d been forced into a car flashed before her. Daniel had had no intention of helping her, of keeping her safe. Daniel wanted to hurt her. Daniel could have killed her.
“What happened?” she asked again.
Jacob shut the doors, started the ignition. “The doctor said it looked like a hit-and-run. It’s a miracle you are still alive.”
Rachel lay on the back seat, looking at the sky passing by the window as Jacob drove; soon she recognized the rows of attached houses.
Hit and run.
Was that Daniel’s forté?
Jacob turned on windshield wipers to clear a light rain that pelted his car. “Who were you with, Rachel? Can you remember?”
She remembered Daniel pushing her into his car, drunk. She remembered the screeching sound of the tires, the thud of impact, the terror.
“Nothing,” she said finally, thinking of Daniel. “I remember nothing.”
Jacob shook his head as he turned a corner. “You deserve better, Rachel.”
She looked down at her bruised and broken body. Everything hurt.
“None of us have been able to track down your fiancé,” Jacob added.
“I’m sure he’ll call and apologize — again,” she mumbled.
“Rachel, forgive my presumption for asking, but where is Daniel at this time?”
“He’s probably at work,” Rachel said quietly. “Must have a big meeting coming up now.”
Jacob clenched his jaw. “I would never leave my fiancée for a minute if she needed me.”
“Then the girl who marries you will be very lucky to have a true love,” Rachel said simply.
Jacob’s face reddened. “Why else would a couple marry?”
“Don’t you know?” Rachel let out a low laugh, the first laugh she’d had in what felt like years. “For money, security, to fit into the community. For a Brooklyn Love.”
They drove past kids playing hockey in the gutter. Rachel heard the kids running for the puck. Her head ached.
Jacob turned onto his block. “You’ll need to rest up, recover. My parents want you to know that you are welcome to stay in our home as long as it takes to heal.”
“That’s very kind.” Rachel watched Jacob’s eyes through his rear-view mirror. His brown eyes showed so much care and concern — like he was a member of her family.
That’s funny,
she thought bitterly.
Daniel never looked at me with care or concern.
They drove up to his home, a small wood-shingled house on East 21st Street. Mrs. Zohar and Ilana were waiting and immediately helped Rachel into a bed in their den/guest room, where Rachel promptly fell asleep.
By the time she awoke, it was late at night.
She looked around the room crowded with books. A lamplight was shining on Jacob where he sat beside her.
“I’ll get you some soup,” Jacob offered. He’d been sitting in the big easy chair beside her bed, his Talmud on his lap, waiting for her to wake up.
She shook her head, too tired to speak.
“Rachel, you haven’t eaten all day.” Jacob went to the kitchen and returned with a steamy bowl of chicken soup.
Rachel used her good arm to push herself up in the bed and took the bowl of soup Jacob brought. It was delicious. She slurped at it greedily, all her hunger hitting her at once.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s great.” She fell back on the pillow, exhausted.
“If you need anything, we are all here for you,” Jacob said and left Rachel to her privacy.
I’m at a boy’s house and don’t know where Daniel is. What would Ma say?
She laid her head back on a pillow.
Frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care what anybody has to say. It’s my life.
“Thank you,” she called in a small voice toward the door. She didn’t care if anyone heard or not. From now on she would say what she thought needed to be said. Life was too fragile to keep it all inside. Life was too short to care about other people’s agendas. “Thank you for everything. Your family — you are all very kind.” She promptly fell asleep.
• • •
Hindy watched a young woman in sweats jog by, giving her a wide berth, and realized she must look like a nut talking to herself. She tried to pull herself together, but she just couldn’t. She kept thinking about Aryeh dating Jessica Julevits. A beautiful girl who would probably marry him. Because the pretty girls always got the greatest guys. And Aryeh was such a guy.
The jogger out of sight, Hindy called out from the depths of her heart: “He’s the greatest guy, God! The greatest! And once he gets serious with Jessica, I lose my unofficial, de facto best friend in the whole world. To a pretty, pretty girl. Shayna is about to get married. Then it’ll be Rachel and Leah. And then I’ll really be alone!” She didn’t care who heard her; she cried until she couldn’t, and then sniffled. Then she just sat.
“Hindy, is that you?”
She heard a voice. Was she dreaming? Had she fallen on a rock and did she have a concussion? She looked up into the sunlight, and there she saw Aryeh Kaufman with a little boy on his shoulders. The sun broke from the clouds, streaming all around him, and he exuded an aura of light. He was the most beautiful person she had ever seen.
“Aryeh? What are you doing here?” Hindy straightened her furry sleeves, her eyes wide as if she’d seen an angel.
“I’m on my way to the zoo with my little cousin. His mother is giving birth, thank God, so Yissachar is my special friend today. He’s going to show me the dinosaurs and the wooly mammoths. Right, Yissachar?”
“No!” The little boy squealed in delight. “There are no dinosaurs and mammoths at the zoo! We are going to see monkeys and snakes!”
Hindy smiled. “You like snakes? My brother Zevulun loves snakes.”
“The best ones are poisonous,” Yissachar announced from high atop Aryeh’s shoulders.
“So, Hindy, what brings you here?” Aryeh asked nonchalantly. “Are you meeting somebody?”
Did she detect a hint of jealousy? “Actually, I just had a disastrous date, and I’m kind of stuck here.” The tears welled up once again. She spoke in a small voice. “Aryeh, could you please take me home?”
“Whatever you need, Hindy. I’m always here for you. You know that, don’t you?” And then, softly, “Did anyone hurt you?”
Hindy shook her head. “The date didn’t work out, and I’m lost. I don’t know where the subway is.”
• • •
Aryeh felt a mixture of compassion and joy as he took in Hindy’s disarray. She’d clearly been crying for a while. It was just like her. She was so organized in so many ways, and in other ways she could act like a complete ditz. Who in New York would get stuck in Central Park? But the idea of somebody making her cry twisted his gut. He wanted to punch him — whoever he was — for hurting her feelings like that. “Whoever he is, why — why, I could smack him,” Aryeh said.
• • •
Hindy stared at him, suddenly blushing. She had never seen Aryeh upset. Or defensive. Over her. “It wasn’t his fault, really,” she said.
Aryeh gazed deeply into her eyes. “He didn’t deserve to be with you for five minutes, let alone a whole date.”
Hindy stood close to Aryeh, suddenly wanting to hug him. To hug him and to kiss his eyes, his cheek, his chin, his lips. To hold him close and to never, ever, let him go. She hugged herself tightly instead.