The Middlesteins: A Novel(31)

Afterward they would get drunk together in Edie’s kitchen, in a really aggressive and committed fashion. Their drinking was no joke: a bottle each in two hours. They poured and drank, and Edie spoke. Let me tell you a little something about your father, she would say. Oh, I’ve got a story for you. She would stumble over her words. You want to know the real truth?

If you only knew.

Now Robin knew everything.

Then she would take the train back to the city drunk, but instead of going home, up just one more flight of stairs, she’d go to Daniel’s apartment, with all his computer monitors and his photographs and his cookbooks that he never even needed to open anymore because he had his favorite recipes memorized. And sometimes they would talk, or sometimes she would put her hand on his mouth and she would say please and he would say okay and they would just go to sleep, and when they woke up, he would just rest himself in her, slightly hard, and not move at all, except for every so often just to keep himself hard, and he would whisper, “We don’t have to do anything at all but just be.” Sometimes she would just lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling, a corpse, and he would sit in the corner and strum his guitar, old indie-rock songs she kind of knew the words to. Sometimes they would go across to the dive bar—their bar now—and get even drunker and come back to his place and have sometimes painful but emotionally necessary sex, and she could barely look at him afterward, even though he never took his eyes off her for a second.

I always feel like you’re waiting for me to say something, she told him once in her head, where it was safe for sentences like that.

Daniel was still waiting for her to give him another reason she couldn’t go to dinner, and she had run out of reasons. “Can I bring anything?” she asked, because her mother had raised her right.



*

After the Four Questions (asked, with great sincerity, by Daniel’s youngest cousin, Ashley, a nine-year-old girl with a booming voice), after the Plagues (Daniel’s father, earnest, blocky, bushy-browed, dipping his finger dramatically into his wineglass), after a noisy rendition of “Dayenu” (to which Robin found herself quickly remembering the words), after the gefilte fish and the matzo-ball soup and the brisket and the chicken and the chocolate-covered matzo and the caramel-covered matzo and the honey nut cake (all of which Robin ate too much of, which made her feel guilty and bad and then sad), there was the slow exit, everyone jamming themselves into coats, negotiations, good-byes, promises, wishes, dreams. A crowd of Jews trying to get home.

Who would drive Danny and his girlfriend to the train station? What a pleasure you are. How nice to see your face around here.

I’m not his girlfriend, she wanted to say.

When Robin saw two stray dishes on the dining-room table, an escape plan quickly formed, and she slid into the kitchen. Dishes, she could do dishes until it was time to leave. Daniel’s mother was in there, yelling at his father.

“All night I had to listen to her complain,” she snapped. “I cannot tolerate another second. Just f*cking drive her home. She’s your aunt, not mine.”

They both looked up, reflexive smiles skimming momentarily across their faces, ripples across a pond. They were too tired to pretend that it had been anything less than an extremely long night.

“Dishes,” said Robin, and she lamely held up the cake-stained plates. Daniel’s mother took them from her. “It was a very nice night,” Robin said.

“You are welcome in our home anytime,” said his mother.

“I’ll give you a ride to the train station,” said his father.



*

Somehow, he had conned her into this night with his family even though she was certain she had been trying to keep an emotional distance between herself and Daniel for months, since that first night they were together when she had whispered in his ear, “This doesn’t mean anything.” He had said nothing in return, which she took as an agreement, or at least an admission of acceptance. He was her neighbor, he was her friend, and she did care about him, but she never wanted to be in a relationship ever again. Because relationships were the worst. So many obligations. So many compromises. So many arguments. Someone always got destroyed in the end. Sometimes everyone got destroyed in the end.



*

They weren’t the only people returning to the city from suburban seders that night, but they ignored them and slunk down in their seats. Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out two of the rubber frog finger puppets, took Robin’s hand, and put one on her pinkie, then put one on his own. He banged the head of one frog against the other.