Read Online The Shiksa Syndrome: A Novel by Laurie Graff - Free Book Online

reaches across the table to squeeze his sweet shiksa’s hand. I promised Krista I’d tell Josh the truth tonight. I know she popped by to see if I’m okay, which I am because I haven’t told. And though Krista’s shiksa is honest, her success only encourages mine. I squeeze his hand back.
    “Can’t believe you two know each other less than a week,” says Josh after ordering dessert.
    “Felt
bashert
,” says Matt. “I taught Krista that word.”
    “That means ‘meant to be,’ ” Josh explains.
    “I know what it means,” I say automatically.
    “
I
told her,” Krista quickly covers for me. “I hope you don’t mind, honey,” she says to Matt. “It was just so nice, I needed to share.”
    The waiter puts down plates of all things creamy, drizzled, and chocolate. I watch as Matt kisses Krista’s forehead. It’s been three dates in four days, and they do look happy.
    “Funny how life happens, isn’t it?” remarks Josh as he looks across to me. I see he wants to kiss me. He wants a taste of his Jewish-boy-finds-shiksa-girl piece of the pie.
    “Sure is,” I say, eager for the same treat. Meanwhile, the sweets before us are scrumptious.
    “You know, you look familiar,” Matt says to me.
    “What do you mean?” I’m suddenly panicked that maybe he, too, went to U of P and knows me from my year in Hillel. But even worse, Matt says, “I’m sure I saw you on JDate some weeks ago. It was before you posted your profile, Kris.”
    “You’re both on JDate?” Josh asks. “Why?”
    “For a man like Matt,” coos Krista, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
    “Who wrote who?” asks Josh.
    “I checked for girls ‘willing to convert’ in my search,” says Matt, “and there she was. But I do think I remember your profile, Aimee. Time2Share or something—I always remember things with numbers.”
    “Believe me, that wasn’t Aimee,” insists Josh. “She’s not even Jewish.”
    “Could have fooled me,” Matt says, and makes my heart stop. When Josh looks at me, I know Krista’s stops too. Thank God she’s here. For if I was tipsy, I have just sobered up. This is it. I will now be revealed. Shamed. Tarred and then feathered.
    I look back at Josh. He searches my eyes. And in that moment I see. Josh wants to be fooled. He buys my brand. Consumers can relate to who you are because somehow you’ve created a connection with their soul. And it allows you to broaden the product because they trust you.
    “Busted. Okay. Maybe
I’m
‘willing to convert,’ ” I say, nervous laughter aiding, abetting, and deflecting the moment.
    “Uh, let’s not even go there, okay?” says Josh, putting his arm around me.
    Tension dissolved, Krista and I burst out with the giggles. Josh is relieved, so he laughs. Matt is embarrassed, so he laughs. I vow to log on to the site and deactivate my stupid unfinished never-paid-for profile as soon as I get home.
    “Me convert,” I say, and laugh, this time for real. “
That’s
funny.”
    “That’s really
craziness,
” says Krista.
    “Sure is,” I say. “Total—”
    “Moosh-e-gas!” We happen to say together, and crack up again.
    “Moose gas?” asks Josh, totally amused.
    “Mishegas,”
explains Matt. “How do you two know that?”
    “We have a Jewish boss,” says Krista. Under the table, she locks her pinkie firmly inside mine—that old schoolyard custom—and before we let go, we each make a wish. I smile at Josh and hope mine will come true.

N ot- S o- G ay P aree
    A HHHHHGGGHHH ,” I scream in the ladies’ room. “Could you believe that? I thought I’d die.”
    “Matt’s sharp, isn’t he?” says Krista. She unsnaps her black beaded purse and takes out her lipstick.
    “What do they call that color?” I say, concentrating on the smaller, less obvious problem that I need new makeup to match my new hair and eyes.
    She turns over the silver cylinder and reads the name on the label on the bottom.
“Moxy!”
says Krista, applying Ramy’s creamy