Page 70 of Songs of Summer
They circled around the block and Matt let out an alarming, high-pitched “Oh my God!”
“What?” Maggie shrieked, circling her head around expecting to see a mugger or a movie star.
“There’s a spot right out front! You can come in!” Matt exclaimed as they pulled up in front of the famous Madison Avenue bakery, William Greenberg, just as an idling taxi pulled out.
She’d never heard such excitement over a parking spot but followed his lead.
The shop was crowded with customers, real-life Upper East Siders, picking out their challah and desserts for Shabbat dinner, she imagined. In high school, Maggie was a frequent guest at a Jewish friend’s house on Friday nights. The girl was allowed to go out afterward, but sitting down with her family every Friday night to break challah bread was mandatory. Maggie loved everything about it. The girl and her mother would light the candles and the father would place his hand on the head of each of his children, bestowing blessings on them for the week. Maggie had already decided that she would incorporate some iteration of that into her own family one day, now that she had discovered her roots.
Her mouth dropped open at the display of cookies and cakes in front of her.
“What would you like?” Matt asked.
“One of everything!” Maggie replied, while taking in the other ladies in line. An older woman in a tailored cotton shirtdress with beauty parlor hair, a young mom sporting a high ponytail in head-to-toe Lululemon with two little legging-clad mini-mes at her side. She had never seen anyone look that chic in workout clothes. Matt told the lady behind the counter that they were there to pick up the wedding cake and she disappeared into the back. One of the little girls tugged on Maggie’s skirt.
“Are you getting married?”
Not wanting to douse the hopeful twinkle in her eyes, she nodded yes with a big smile. Matt laughed and whispered, “From fake dating to fake marrying in three days.”
“They’re getting married,” the girl told her sister.
“Kiss, kiss!” the sister got in their faces and pleaded.
Maggie and Matt smiled at them and turned to face the counter. Matt asked the other attendant:
“We’ll also have a chocolate babka, four rugelach, two black-and-whites and two schnecken, please.” Maggie had never even heard of the last one. She was excited.
The skirt-tugging sister joined the uproarious one, taking their shouts up a notch, now a duet.
“True love’s kiss! True love’s kiss!”
Matt turned to the mother and smiled. “Do they have an off button?”
“Not that I’ve found, sorry,” she said, though not sorry enough to tell them to stop.
“True love’s kiss! True love’s kiss!”
They were loud and relentless. Now the customers at the back of the line were giving Matt and Maggie come-on-already looks, as if they alone held the key to their serenity.
“I’m sorry,” the mother addressed the group, “too many Disney movies.”
“Just kiss her already, I’m getting a headache,” a cranky old man at the rear pleaded.
Maggie knew Matt wouldn’t do it and felt that taking the lead would be a good feminist lesson for these two. Plus, maybe kissing him, just this once, would put an end to the curiosity that had been plaguing her, if she was being honest, since he gave her a ride home that first night on the back of his bike. It would be better (for her and for Jason) than wondering about it for the rest of her life, she rationalized. She could kiss him, explain to Jason what happened, and put it behind her.
Maggie stood on her tippy-toes and planted a sweet smooch on Matt’s lips before looking down at the cheering squad, expecting satisfaction and silence.
The girls’ faces dropped from gleeful anticipation to utter disappointment. The older one vocalized her dissatisfaction.
“That’s it?”
Everyone laughed, except the two little girls, who looked as if their entire vision of true love had fizzled before their eyes. She couldn’t have that. Her competitive side (really her only side) kicked in.
She met his eyes before his lips and saw that they were filled with apprehension and longing, as, she was sure, were hers. It was too much, so she closed them. When her mouth touched his, time seemed to stand still and everything else faded away. The girls, the older lady, the old man, the smell of fresh-baked cookies and babka, gone, replaced by passion, wonderment, and truth. It was the truth that concerned her when they finally broke away. Her lips had never felt more at home, though it was no home she’d ever known. How wasthat possible? Her alarming observation was quickly doused by the old man’s snarky commentary:
“She said Disney, notDebbie Does Dallas!”
Even the woman behind the counter laughed as she passed over the first boxed layer of the wedding cake. Matt, red-faced and smiling ridiculously, grabbed it with two hands, nodding for Maggie to get the door. He went back and forth with the three boxes that they would lay on top of each other at the wedding to form the traditional vanilla frosted tower. The bag of treats sat on top of the last box, and Maggie couldn’t decide which to try first. She climbed into the back seat of the car, insisting she should keep the boxes safe. But really, it was her virtue that she wanted to keep safe. She was worried that her commitment to Jason wouldn’t survive a two-hour ride sitting next to Matt.
