Dex (8 page)

CHAPTER twelve

“The last time I was at a bat-mitzvah it was yours,” Dex said to Alicia, looking up as the sun filtered through the colorful stained-glass windows that bathed the synagogue in a soft glow.  “Everyone said I was cute and I wasn’t in charge of cooking anything.”

Dex was staring down at the busy pattern on the carpet when a little boy in a blue suit burst through a side entrance running down the center aisle screaming ‘Shazam!’ He sideswiped Dex who nearly fell on Alicia. She quickly turned on her camera to record the commotion.

The boy’s father apologized on the run as he chased after his son waving a big cookie with sprinkles in his hand. People stopped their conversations to watch the unfolding saga.

The boy ignored his father and continued to run, all the while making noises as if he were an exploding bomb.

“Ivan!” his father bellowed, offering his son another shot at the cookie if he would please behave.

Alicia followed the boy’s path as he continued to run freely around the synagogue and out through another exit.

“Well, at least
you’re
still cute,” Alicia assured Dex, turning off the camera. “Not sure what the future holds in store for that little guy.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled as he gazed around the synagogue wondering why he hadn’t seen Sarah yet. Was she taking pictures or talking to relatives who hadn’t seen her since she started walking? Naturally, that was the moment Hunter walked in. Dex tapped Alicia’s arm.

“That’s Sarah’s boyfriend,” he whispered.

“Really?” she said, giving him the once-over. “Nothing special. You’re way cuter.”

“You’re just saying that, right?”

“No Dex, I would never go out of my way to suck up to you.” Alicia scanned the room and raised her eyebrows when she found the right spot to place the tripod.

“Come,” she said, handing Dex a camera to hold as they walked to the back of the room.

“You look tense,” Alicia said, as she set up the tripod near a case lined with prayer books. “How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You guess? So you’re nervous, huh?”

“No sugar Sherlock. I don’t know. A lot of these people look uncomfortable.”

“Really?” She was adjusting a knob. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well you should. It’s your job,” Dex snapped, but she was too busy setting up to respond. “Leesh, look at these guys. They’re going to have to spend the next few hours stuck in the same suits and ties they have to wear for work.”

“So? Big deal. The women have it worse.”

Dex watched a group of women congregate in the back near the ladies’ room. Some of them resembled mummies wrapped in dresses so tight Dex wasn’t sure how they could breathe much less go to the bathroom.

“Wow. You’re right,” Dex mused. “And why do they have so much crud on their faces? Is the circus in town?”

Alicia giggled but didn’t answer him.

One woman with fat, shiny red lips walked slowly past Dex. She was wearing glittery heels so high she could’ve joined Cirque du Soleil. Dex couldn’t understand why people celebrated an occasion they wanted to enjoy by dressing in clothes and shoes that made it impossible.

Dex scanned the room and saw his mother talking to one of the guests. He was glad she seemed happy. She had lost weight and didn’t need to wear a dress that forced her stomach in. He took note of her feet. Normal shoes. He was proud of her. Sometimes the little things mattered.

#

The rabbi chanted a few blessings and then called Sarah to the pulpit. Dex realized he had never noticed how long her hair was. Maybe because she wore it up a lot for school. Stupid butterflies in his stomach were making him feel sick. He wondered if this was how Kyle felt all the time. That would royally suck.

With all eyes on her, Sarah began to sing her portion of the service. As soon as the first note came out of her mouth, Dex was glad she was pretty. He saw a few people wince at times as she squawked her way through to the end. By the time she was done, Dex couldn’t help but wonder if the applause was for her performance or because it was over.

Sarah was still at the pulpit when the rabbi called her parents to the stage to join her. If anyone thought Liza’s family was different because she was black and had two gay, white dads, they didn’t know Sarah. Sarah’s dad was a Chinese Jew. His father had fought in Korea, met a Chinese nurse, and fallen in love. According to Sarah, it was her grandmother’s decision to convert to Judaism. They were married and, soon after, Sarah’s father was born.

As a graduate student, Sarah’s father went to study international politics in Korea. While there, he met an American English teacher, a Jewish woman who was scheduled to return to the states the same time he was. They got engaged and stayed together throughout their time in Korea.  When they came back, they got married at Temple Emanu-El in Manhattan, the largest, and often considered most beautiful, synagogue in the world.

The funny thing was, some of Sarah’s relatives were very Chinese and some of her relatives were very Jewish. And some of them, like her family, existed somewhere in between. Her bat-mitzvah was the first time the two families and cultures were together since her parents’ wedding.

The rabbi said a few words and Sarah’s parents sat down, but she stayed at the pulpit. For some, this next part was more nerve-wracking than having to chant blessings in Hebrew. The bat-mitzvah girl was expected to make a speech sharing something important and meaningful to her. Sarah spent the next several minutes discussing her diverse, interesting background and went on to explain how each person in the room played an important part in shaping her life.

It wasn’t surprising that there was thunderous applause when she concluded by saying, “As I look around the room, I see my wonderful parents, and all the people who care the most about me. Here we are together, Chinese, American, Jewish, not Jewish, and we’re all family. Or, as my Bubbe would say, one big happy
mishpocha
.”

The moment Sarah was done speaking, a group of guests and congregants started singing and, as customary, hurling soft, wrapped candies at her to make her introduction into womanhood as sweet as possible. She almost lost her footing laughing so hard as fruit gels and chocolate kisses fell at her feet. She managed to calm down long enough to steady herself against the pulpit, but that was no match for Ivan, the little boy in the blue suit, who shouted a triumphant ‘
Shazam
,’ as he tackled Sarah to get to the sweets.

Without thinking, Dex dashed to the rescue and lifted Sarah to her feet before anyone else had the chance. She looked a little pale, and Dex wiped away a stray tear that trickled down her cheek.  For an instant, Dex felt like a superhero, and could see a better version of himself in her eyes. But then Hunter stepped in between them along with Sarah’s parents and most of the guests, and the connection was lost.

Dex surveyed the room and noticed that Alicia and the tripod were gone and the large folding wall that separated the sanctuary from the reception area was still closed. She was probably on the other side setting up for the cocktail hour, something he still needed to do. He went out to the hallway hoping to find anyone who might be able to help him get started. All he found was Alicia near the cloak room filming Ivan’s father carrying the brat out of the building upside down by his ankles.

#

Game time. Dex had been pacing up and down the lobby outside the reception area so many times the carpet had lingering impressions of his footprints. By now, he had a firm idea of how he would approach each dish and handle the crowd, but he was afraid he’d forget everything if he didn’t get to work soon. He was surprised he hadn’t been sent to speak to anyone, but he

had never done this before and had no clue about proper procedure. Maybe everyone was expected to do their own thing without instructions. Seemed weird, but this wasn’t Mrs. Baker’s International Cooking class and anything was possible. At least he had his mom and sister. Marla and Alicia would be moral support even if he didn’t need them for anything else.

A woman in a tuxedo vest suddenly came up behind Dex. Rather than talk to him though, she began prompting guests exiting the sanctuary to enjoy the cheese and fruit table that had just been rolled into the waiting area. Before he had the chance to get her attention, the woman left. Dex panicked. At the rate this crowd was eating, there would be no time for him to prepare. Just then a short, wiry man tapped him on the shoulder.  He had a ridiculously thin moustache, was
dressed in a too-big tuxedo, and wore a gold name tag identifying him as Enrique. “This
eesn’t
even my yob, but they tell me bring you here. Come now please!”

Enrique was snippy, and Dex realized he must be the go-to guy whenever the hall was short-staffed. He felt sorry for the overworked man, who was swimming in his supplied tuxedo as he walked.

Enrique led Dex on a brief tour of the cocktail area, a dimly lit space studded with small tables and set apart from the larger reception room by yet another folding wall.  Dex laughed to himself as Enrique ushered him past different tables that featured such dishes as:
WONTON MATZOH BALL SOUP, ORI-YENTL LENTIL, JEW GOO GAI PAN, SALAMI EGG FOO YOUNG, and BOK CHOY KUGEL.
There were dozens of bottles of
OY SAUCE
, forks, and chopsticks on every table. Aside from a ‘Kids Only’
HAPPY HAMBURGER
table, each station echoed Sarah’s Chinese-Jewish theme.

By the time they reached Dex’s stir-fry station, Enrique was nearing a meltdown. Some “
idiota
,” he seethed, had forgotten to put the pagoda napkin holders on the tables, and now the culprit had to “lose his head” for the mistake. A
bit much
, Dex thought as he shifted his attention to his new work space. A knot in an extension cord lying across the floor caught his eye. He knelt down to fix it and when he got up Enrique was across the room on his way out the door.

This was the real deal. Dex was on his own. Luckily, everything seemed pretty self- explanatory. In seconds he had the woks seasoned and with a few clicks and turns he found out the burners were easy to control. There were pre-prepared heaping bowls of chopped vegetables and sliced meats. The oils and sauces were neatly marked and in convenient squeeze containers that Dex decided he’d put on his ‘to buy’ list on his iPhone later on. All he had to do was put everything together and make it taste good.

Dex took a deep breath. It was all going to work out, and after this, Sarah would never forget that she was his partner in International Cooking. He tied the apron around his waist a little tighter and let his eyes wander around the room.  Marla was chatting with Sarah’s mother and Alicia was setting up her camera on a tripod near the dance floor.  Dex was impressed at how relaxed Alicia seemed.

Relax,
he said to himself loud enough to hear. It was a good word. He took another deep breath. A couple came over and asked for beef and broccoli. In moments, Dex was tossing ingredients and wielding his long chop sticks like he could run a stir-fry station in his sleep. After spending hours helping Jimmy, the owner, at Golden Chow, his family’s favorite take-out place, prepare everything from wonton soup to deep-friend kumquats in plum glaze, Dex didn’t expect anything less from himself.

A crowd started to gather around to watch him, and Marla proudly positioned herself to get a clear view. Alicia was now roaming with a portable camera and found a spot to make sure she didn’t miss Dex’s performance.

“That boy can really cook!” Mr. Rosenbaum said, savoring a bite of Hunan chicken.

“Yes, he certainly can and he’s a natural in front of the camera,” Alicia noted, then captured Dex in an isolated still shot.

Dex was tossing
lo mein
when he noticed Preston LeTray coming out of one of the kitchen doors carrying two trays, one of raw vegetables and another of
moo shu
pancakes. Dex was shocked. Why was a celebrity chef working at Sarah’s bat-mitzvah?