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Authors: Sidney Bristol
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closet. This young man comes in to
relieve himself and there’s a woman in there. He sees she’s scared, introduces
himself.
“Neither speak the same language, they can only piece
together a few Hebrew words so they realize they’re both Jewish. What do Jewish
people do? They go to the temple. So he takes her hand and together they go to
the temple, but along the way her shoe breaks. The young man picks up her shoe,
gives her his and they continue along their way.
“By the time they get to the temple, there’s people
following them. They don’t know what’s going on, but everyone’s happy so they
keep going. They arrive at the temple and the rabbis are all talking at once,
they’re trying to give them wine, and they are both very confused. As it turns
out shoes are very important in business proceedings, sometimes betrothals, and
the young man found himself accidentally engaged to a young woman he couldn’t
understand.
“Well, they found their families, they were even staying in
the same hotel, and over the next few weeks during their stay, they fell in
love. And the young man moved to Iran for a girl he barely knew. And he bought
her a new pair of shoes for every day of their engagement.” Sammi grinned,
recalling how his father would tell the story with excessive gesturing. His
grandparents had remained in Iran, so Sammi had never met them before they
passed away, but he knew them through his father’s stories.
“Makes me want to get engaged all over again.” Eleri leaned
forward, swirling her wine and sighing dreamily.
“I think I’m full up on weddings for a few months.” The
honeymooning bride shook her head and gave her groom a meaningful look.
“It was great to do—once,” her groom agreed.
An elderly woman in a tropical print dress was headed their
way as fast as she could pop her cane out there.
Autumn leaned against Sammi’s side, fitting perfectly to
him. “Incoming,” she whispered.
“Who got married?” the elderly woman asked. She gripped the
back of Tony’s chair and glanced around the table.
“That would be us,” Sammi replied, giving Autumn a squeeze.
Autumn peeked at him from the corner of her eye and smiled.
He wondered if she smiled from the sense of adventure or something more
personal. The kiss under the chuppah had knocked him off the high road.
He needed to get some better perspective. This was not a marriage founded on
love or even romance. Asking for Autumn’s affections was not part of the
bargain.
“Congratulations.” The woman glanced at Autumn. It was hard
to tell if she meant it or not.
“Thank you,” Autumn replied.
“You can always tell when a wife has a good husband. You can
see it on her face. Looks like you’re a good catch.” She winked, either at
Autumn or himself, Sammi couldn’t tell. It was an absurd gesture considering
the refined way the woman carried herself. He wanted to laugh, but resisted.
“Have a bottle of champagne on me, and a bit of advice. ‘Sorry’ isn’t a verb.
Don’t expect it to fix things for you.”
No one spoke for a beat.
Sammi sat forward. “Thank you, ma’am, we appreciate your
generosity.”
“It’s not my generosity I’m offering.” She grinned then and
Sammi felt as if he were playing chicken with a cobra. “Good evening.”
As abruptly as she’d inserted herself, the woman left.
The honeymooning bride was the first to speak. “That
was…odd.”
“I think she means her husband is paying for our champagne,”
Autumn translated.
A server appeared with an ice bucket and the proffered gift
from their sage well-wisher. The chatter between the guests rose while they
were each poured a glass of the bubbling liquid. Truth be told, champagne was
one of his least favorite beverages, but some occasions called for it.
Sammi lifted his glass. “To always knowing when to ask for
forgiveness.”
“And knowing what blowjobs are for,” the honeymooning bride
chimed in.
“Hear, hear.” Autumn
relieve himself and there’s a woman in there. He sees she’s scared, introduces
himself.
“Neither speak the same language, they can only piece
together a few Hebrew words so they realize they’re both Jewish. What do Jewish
people do? They go to the temple. So he takes her hand and together they go to
the temple, but along the way her shoe breaks. The young man picks up her shoe,
gives her his and they continue along their way.
“By the time they get to the temple, there’s people
following them. They don’t know what’s going on, but everyone’s happy so they
keep going. They arrive at the temple and the rabbis are all talking at once,
they’re trying to give them wine, and they are both very confused. As it turns
out shoes are very important in business proceedings, sometimes betrothals, and
the young man found himself accidentally engaged to a young woman he couldn’t
understand.
“Well, they found their families, they were even staying in
the same hotel, and over the next few weeks during their stay, they fell in
love. And the young man moved to Iran for a girl he barely knew. And he bought
her a new pair of shoes for every day of their engagement.” Sammi grinned,
recalling how his father would tell the story with excessive gesturing. His
grandparents had remained in Iran, so Sammi had never met them before they
passed away, but he knew them through his father’s stories.
“Makes me want to get engaged all over again.” Eleri leaned
forward, swirling her wine and sighing dreamily.
“I think I’m full up on weddings for a few months.” The
honeymooning bride shook her head and gave her groom a meaningful look.
“It was great to do—once,” her groom agreed.
An elderly woman in a tropical print dress was headed their
way as fast as she could pop her cane out there.
Autumn leaned against Sammi’s side, fitting perfectly to
him. “Incoming,” she whispered.
“Who got married?” the elderly woman asked. She gripped the
back of Tony’s chair and glanced around the table.
“That would be us,” Sammi replied, giving Autumn a squeeze.
Autumn peeked at him from the corner of her eye and smiled.
He wondered if she smiled from the sense of adventure or something more
personal. The kiss under the chuppah had knocked him off the high road.
He needed to get some better perspective. This was not a marriage founded on
love or even romance. Asking for Autumn’s affections was not part of the
bargain.
“Congratulations.” The woman glanced at Autumn. It was hard
to tell if she meant it or not.
“Thank you,” Autumn replied.
“You can always tell when a wife has a good husband. You can
see it on her face. Looks like you’re a good catch.” She winked, either at
Autumn or himself, Sammi couldn’t tell. It was an absurd gesture considering
the refined way the woman carried herself. He wanted to laugh, but resisted.
“Have a bottle of champagne on me, and a bit of advice. ‘Sorry’ isn’t a verb.
Don’t expect it to fix things for you.”
No one spoke for a beat.
Sammi sat forward. “Thank you, ma’am, we appreciate your
generosity.”
“It’s not my generosity I’m offering.” She grinned then and
Sammi felt as if he were playing chicken with a cobra. “Good evening.”
As abruptly as she’d inserted herself, the woman left.
The honeymooning bride was the first to speak. “That
was…odd.”
“I think she means her husband is paying for our champagne,”
Autumn translated.
A server appeared with an ice bucket and the proffered gift
from their sage well-wisher. The chatter between the guests rose while they
were each poured a glass of the bubbling liquid. Truth be told, champagne was
one of his least favorite beverages, but some occasions called for it.
Sammi lifted his glass. “To always knowing when to ask for
forgiveness.”
“And knowing what blowjobs are for,” the honeymooning bride
chimed in.
“Hear, hear.” Autumn
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