Dating Kosher by Michaela Greene Page A

the end of his own marriage, so you think he’d know better. I didn’t think that any of Moishe’s three kids ever bothered to go visit Bubby in the home either. They did their visiting at the high holy days when we all gathered for dinner.
    We used to alternate between my parents’ house and Moishe’s place, but since both my dad and his brother had gotten divorced, our new ‘traditional Jewish holiday dinners’ had been eaten at a Chinese buffet. I thought Bubby was going to have an aneurysm the first time I picked her up on Rosh Hashanah and drove her out to the strip plaza where the restaurant was located, but she never said a word. Knowing she was horrified, I tried to comfort her with the knowledge that there was a good chance no other Jews would see her committing such a blasphemy on the eve of the Jewish New Year. Although she gave me a weak smile, I’m not sure my attempt at cheering her up had helped.       
    Susan had announced last Passover (which luckily coincided with the restaurant’s seafood festival) that she would begin having the holidays at hers and Dad’s house once they were settled after the wedding. I didn’t have to even look at my bubby to know she had been silently relieved.
    Although Bubby never complained or even made her sons feel guilty (quite a phenomenon for a Jewish mother), I knew it hurt her deeply that she didn’t get to see them very often. I did my best to visit at least once a week, giving her the updates on the family and my own life. There wasn’t always a lot to tell, but I think just my being there was what counted.
    “Do you have your outfit picked out for the wedding?” I asked, eager to change the subject before she got upset thinking about her absentee sons.
    It worked. Her eyes began to twinkle and her mouth parted into a wide, toothy smile. “I do. It’s a secret, but I’m going to wear the navy blue sequined dress I had made for Mitchell’s bar mitzvah. I’m very proud to say that after many extra lengths in the pool, I fit into it again.” Reminded suddenly of her diet, she placed her fork and knife down on the plate and pushed it away from her, leaving the few last pieces of turkey uneaten.
    “That’s awesome, Bubby.” My heart swelled with pride as I thought of my grandmother toiling away in the pool to make sure she looked fabulous on her son’s wedding day. It had been over twelve years since she had last worn her favorite outfit to my cousin Mitchell’s bar mitzvah. She had repeatedly lamented that since she had moved into the senior’s residence after my zaidy’s death, she had put on almost twenty pounds, rendering much of her wardrobe useless. Having been petite all her life, her weight gain had been difficult for her to accept and it had always been a goal of hers to wear the navy dress again.
    Maybe I didn’t get all of my diva fashion sense from my mother after all.
    * * *
    By the time Bev and I were seated in the restaurant, it was almost nine and I was ravenous. I feasted on the bowl of free nacho chips as though I hadn’t eaten in days.
    “I don’t know, Shosh,” Bev said, grabbing a few chips before I finished them off. “I don’t think you’re going to find any guy that will agree to go to the wedding at this late date.”
    “You never know.” I was trying to sound optimistic, but I knew I was screwed.
    “You can always take me.” She smiled, trying to be helpful as always.
    “You’re already going,” I said, licking the salt from my fingers.
    “Yeah, but I could go as your date again.” She was referring to a distant cousin’s bar mitzvah several years back; I took her as my date and introduced her around as my ‘girlfriend.’ It was long before being out was so mainstream and my mom had absolutely freaked. Consequently, I’d been grounded for a month for bringing so much embarrassment to the family. The crazy thing is, I think if I did that now, my mom would think it was cool.
    “I don’t think so,