You Asked for Perfect(9)

We dated for about two seconds when I was a rising sophomore and she was a rising junior, but it was one of those relationships people have just so they can say they were in a relationship. We’re much better off as friends. She goes to college in Atlanta now.

“Good Shabbos,” I say. “What’s up? How’s school?”

“School is good…” She trails off. “Commuting back and forth for the band can be a pain, but it’s okay.” Malka plays guitar in Sook’s band, Dizzy Daisies, and drives back to our suburb all the time for practice.

I nod. “Cool, cool.” I glance at the door. I need to leave soon. I have a volunteer shift at the animal shelter. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some studying done there.

Malka narrows her eyes. “You okay?”

“Yep.” I scratch the back of my head. My fingers meet the bobby pin holding my kippah in place. I slide both off and shove them in my pocket. “So are Sook and I going to lose you to the cool, glamorous life of college?”

She laughs, awkwardly, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yup. I’m too cool for you seventeen-year-olds.”

“Dude, you turned eighteen a month ago.”

“Dude, whatever.” She grins. “Hey! You should join us for practice sometime. Sook wrote a new song that would sound great with violin.”

“I’ll think about it. No promises.”

It would be nice to play violin for fun again, but I don’t have the time for that. My alarm goes off, phone buzzing in my pocket. “I’ve gotta go. Animal shelter. I’ll see you soon. Tell me some cool-kid college stories next time, okay?”

She laughs awkwardly again. I give her a quick hug and head out.

*

“Ezekiel, come back!” I shout, chasing after the loose terrier. I didn’t knot his leash properly before bathing him, and now he’s running around the back of the shelter, a tiny ball of suds and fury. “Get him, Rachel!”

“On it!” She scampers after him. She forgot a change of clothes, so she’s wearing one of my T-shirts over her Shabbos dress. It hangs down to her knees. Ezekiel stops at the window to bark at a squirrel. Rachel sneaks up behind him and pulls him to her chest with a gentle hug. He scrambles for a second, but then gives in and kisses her face. “Good boy.” She giggles.

“Thank you, hero sister.” I help her settle Ezekiel back into the giant sink, then scrub him while he licks my hand.

“Any time!”

I’ve been volunteering at this animal shelter for two years. Volunteer work is a must for a good college application, and this place is an easy shtick. The manager, Marnie, has an overflowing roster of volunteers: animal rights activists, college students, and retirees. She doesn’t actually need me, so I keep spare clothes in the car and only come once a week after synagogue.

It’s hard to watch the animals stuck in these cages, but at least when I’m here, I can let them out and run around with them. And they especially love it when I bring Rachel. “Watch this!” she shouts.

She’s trained a mutt that’s definitely part standard poodle to jump up on its hind legs and beg for a treat. The dog is almost taller than her when it does so. “Badass,” I say.

She bows. “Thank you. Now we can tell her future parents she’s well trained.”

I grin. “Yeah, but is she housebroken?”

Rachel shrugs and gives a mischievous smile before turning her attention back to the dog. An hour later, we’re done with the washing and the walks, and I tell Rachel, “I’ve got to study. You gonna play in the yard?”

Rachel sighs. “I’ve got to study, too, big brother.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Study for what?”

“Geography,” she says. “We have a test on the capitals.”

“Oh, that won’t be bad,” I say.

“Capitals of all the countries.”

“What?” We didn’t do that until ninth grade. Though I’d be no help to her now. It’s the kind of information you forget a week after you learn it.

“It’s multiple choice,” Rachel says, which is better, I guess. “Can Ezekiel study with me?”

“Sure.”

Rachel grabs Ezekiel from his kennel, and we head to the front of the shelter. I sit at the desk, and Rachel sits on the entryway couch, dwarfed by the backpack next to her. It’s a slow Saturday, so we’re the only ones here at the moment. Ezekiel curls up on the floor near Rachel’s feet. She’s bent over an open folder, studying while munching on a bag of Cheetos.

I take out my notebook, my calc textbook, and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. I chew on the sour candy while copying down the first problem. My pencil carves deep grooves in the paper, like if I write the numbers hard enough, the formulas will stick in my brain. Then I flip to the front of the chapter to study the steps. My shoulders hunch over the page. A stress headache blooms in my forehead. It takes far too long to do one problem, but finally I have it. A wave of relief sweeps over me. I flip to the back of the book to confirm my answer is right.

It’s not.

Crap.

*

It’s too warm for soccer season. The bright sun beats down on me as I climb out of my car. The Grateful Dead plays through my phone speakers. A light breeze ruffles the air but doesn’t offset the humid heat.