The Book of Jonah by Joshua Max Feldman Page A

at the camera from a great distance, though it could have only been a few feet away.
    â€œThat’s Milim’s roommate at Yale. Judith.”
    And then he remembered where he had seen this look before. “Judith looks like you just liberated her from a death camp.”
    â€œOh, don’t!” Aimee said, laughing. “It’s the only picture I have of us. Besides, that girl has a really sad story.”
    He looked at this girl, Judith, for another moment—then shrugged and turned away. “Eh, some people’s lives don’t turn out the way they want,” he said with exaggerated insensitivity. He returned to the computer, which now displayed a picture of a (he had to admit very appetizing-looking) spinach quesadilla. “Y’know, I’ve been to Taco Bell a hundred times, and I’ve never ordered that,” he joked, and had every expectation of never thinking about Judith again.
    â€œThose places are terrible for you!” Aimee said, tapping his leg again. “Seriously, you will drop dead of a heart attack, I am predicting that now.”
    â€œHey guys,” Becky said, coming into the room accompanied by a tall, square-shouldered man Jonah thought he maybe recognized. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œTaco Bell,” Jonah said.
    â€œBecks, you didn’t tell me your cousin looked like Jake Gyllenhaal,” Aimee said to her playfully.
    â€œRight, he wishes,” Becky answered, giving Jonah a knowing glance. “Can you help Jasmine with the sangria? I think they’re messing it up.”
    â€œYeah, cool,” Aimee said, standing. “Jonah, promise me you’ll check out the blog, okay? It’s bigcitysmalltables.com. Leave me a comment and maybe we can try that ice cream sometime.” She winked at him and left.
    â€œSorry,” Becky said. “I swear I told her you had a girlfriend.” Becky was no more than five-foot-one, zaftig (as her mother, Jonah’s aunt Sheila, relentlessly put it), had long and curly brown hair, a mouth that smiled easily, a nose that was more overtly hooked than Jonah’s. She wore a bright red dress, over that a black jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and had a tiara in her hair, for her birthday.
    â€œThere are worse things than being hit on by a food blogger,” he answered. “Should I actually read it?”
    â€œI dunno,” Becky said. “How interested are you in desserts made with vegetables?” And they both laughed. Jonah was an only child, wasn’t used to the easy rapport possible among family members of the same age. It surprised him how similar they were, having seen each other only for a few hours here and there over the years—similar not even in personality, but in outlook. “Anyway, you remember my boyfriend, Danny, right?” she said, now gesturing to the man standing beside her.
    â€œGood to see you, Jonah,” Danny said, shaking Jonah’s hand firmly. Jonah did remember meeting him now, and remembered, too, that he was an accountant—reminded of this because, with his neat, 1950s-vintage crew cut, his starched blue button-down shirt, his wrinkleless khakis, Danny made such a strong impression of accountancy, of being an accountant-in-full. There was even something accountant-like in the robotic way he slung his arm around Becky’s shoulder: as if he had this arm around his girlfriend only because that was where he knew his arm was supposed to go, in the same way he might put another depreciated asset in the debits column of a spreadsheet. “We were so glad you could come,” he said to Jonah.
    â€œI was so surprised,” said Becky. “I mean, in a good way. I didn’t even know if you got the Evite.”
    â€œWell, y’know, family first,” Jonah said. From the many expressions of unexpected pleasure at his being there, it had become clear to him that his presence tonight was a very large