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Well. That left me feeling shaky. Terrified. Like an earthquake had suddenly struck here in Riverside Park and the world was shuddering around me and pickleball players were screaming and losing their toupees and I no longer knew how to stand up.

If that was the case, though, Seth would catch me. He would help me stand.

He was speaking. “I think she’s afraid,” he said, and even though I’d just acknowledged the accuracy of that statement, outrage couldn’t help but swell in my chest anyway. “I think she’s afraid of her feelings and of being really open in a relationship. When I reach out to her, she pulls away. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t solve something like that by loving her,” Benjamin said gravely. “She has to be the one to take that step. She has to love herself.”

This whole conversation was ridiculous. Offensive, actually. I should bound out of my hiding place right now and confront them with the truth. Tell Benjamin all about our scheme so that I could stop this infernal wondering that was making my stomach all soupy and gross.

Because it had to be that this was all fake, just like our dating scheme. Because if it was real, true, then I had to look inward. I had to open up my chest just enough to peer inside and read what exactly my heart was trying to tell me.

I took a deep breath. Before I could make any decisions, a gruff voice by the bench said, “You’re up.”

Creaking noises as people stood. “Great,” Seth said. “Dad, do you think I get bonus points if I knock the toupee off his head?”

Obviously, I couldn’t talk to them if they were hitting balls back and forth and at people’s heads. That left me to slink away, to ring the bell for Bev to let me in. “You look like you got a great workout,” she said brightly as I stepped inside the apartment. It was probably true: my cheeks were red from both the cold and Unwanted Feelings; my hair was all mussed from running my fingers through it over and over during my (long, slow) walk back. “How are you feeling?”

I actually did indeed feel like I’d gotten a workout. My heart was still racing. “I don’t know,” I said, before I could think about it. “I don’t know how I’m feeling.”

How did you know if you loved someone? Was it when you felt safe around them? Wanted to share your news and excitement with them before anyone else? Felt comfortable sharing more with them than you’d shared with others maybe ever, even if you weren’t ready to crack open your chest and let them dive into the whole bloody mess? Wanted nothing more than to kiss them and touch them and feel the throb of their heart pulsing against yours?

Well, shit. Maybe I didn’t need to crack open my chest after all.

I snapped out of it when Bev cupped my forehead with her palm. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” she said. “Is it your legs? Did you twist something?”

It occurred to me that she hadn’t been asking about my emotional state; she’d been making sure I hadn’t hurt myself. Which made me laugh. She looked at me like I was deranged, which maybe I was. “No, I’m great. All of my extremities are doing great.”

Seth and Benjamin got back sweaty and red-faced, too, and we had time for a nice lunch—Bev made some excellent spaghetti with a salad—before heading off to our hair appointment. It did not surprise me at all that Bev’s usual salon was way swankier than my usual salon, which, to be honest, was less a salon than me trimming my hair in the mirror whenever I got too many split ends. Mirrors covered the walls, multiplying us into infinite versions of ourselves; soothing music that sounded like it should be in a spa played through hidden speakers, and everything smelled like hair cream that cost more than a day of my café’s operating expenses.

Bev got her blowout on one side of the salon, and on the other, a hairdresser somehow defrizzed my natural curls and teased them into a half-up, half-down kind of thing with way too many bobby pins sticking into my scalp. Why did people get acupuncture when they could just go to the salon? Head pain or not, what greeted me in the mirror afterward was me, just prettier. The pulled-up part of my hair emphasized my strong jaw and the lines of my cheekbones, and the curly bits that hung free were striking against my pale skin and the elegant slope of my neck. I’d never thought of any part of myself as elegant before this trip, and now here I was doing it two days in a row.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. I’d always rolled my eyes at the makeover scenes in movies, because what really mattered was, of course, on the inside. But maybe it mattered a little bit to have the outside match the inside, at least sometimes.

“You look beautiful,” Bev said, making me jump. Somehow she’d snuck up behind me, which was quite a feat, considering I was looking into a mirror. “The two of you will make such a handsome couple. I can’t wait for all my friends to see you.”

This was our last day together, and after this I’d never see her again. “Bev, can I ask you something? Do you only like me because I’m Jewish?” Something confirming that I was making the right decision, because Seth could’ve brought home any Jewish girl and Bev would’ve been just as happy. That I personally didn’t matter. “Sorry if that’s a rude question, but I heard you didn’t like Freya, and Freya is great, so…”

Bev stared into my eyes in the mirror. One of her hands found its way to my shoulder and squeezed, fortunately not crushing any delicately hair-sprayed curls. “No, dear, of course that’s not the only reason I like you. Is that what Seth said?”

I shrugged. Bev rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to stand here and lie through my teeth; of course I’m happy that he’s finally brought home someone Jewish. I know that the world has changed. Just because he doesn’t have a Jewish wife or partner doesn’t mean he can’t be part of the community or that he can’t have Jewish children. But I want Jewish grandchildren, I want to light the candles with them and stand up on the bima at their b’nai mitzvot to sing an aliyah for them and teach them all our ways and laws, and I know that’s more likely if he’s with someone who’s also Jewish. I don’t want Seth to feel excluded from the community we’ve spent our entire lives weaving together. But above all else I want him to be happy.”

That was not clicking with what Seth had said, but neither had what he told Benjamin at the pickleball court compared to what he’d told me, that our kiss had been just a kiss, and her words rang true. Maybe because she was squeezing my shoulder now like she might crush it if I didn’t believe her.

“I didn’t dislike Freya as a person,” Bev continued. “I didn’t think she and Seth were a good fit. She was sweet and polite, but she was too passive. My son needs someone who won’t take his crap, who will stand up to him and challenge him. Benjamin and I have worked so well for so many years because our differences complement each other, and we challenge each other to turn us into better people. That didn’t happen with Seth and Freya.

“You, on the other hand,” Bev went on. “I knew from the moment I met you and you ribbed my son in front of me that you would be good for him. You have the fire he needs, and I can already see that you challenge him. Is he just as good for you? I don’t know. I don’t know you well enough yet. But I think so, and I hope so. What was your question again? Oh. If I only like you because you’re Jewish. No, Abby. I like that you’re Jewish, but I like you mostly because I think you’re very good for my son.”

It was suddenly hard to breathe. The aerosol funk of the salon had crept into my lungs as a fog and was now choking my lungs of all air. Or maybe a lump had risen in my throat and was choking me because I was trying so hard not to cry. Either one.

“Turn around,” Bev said briskly. I couldn’t not obey her, so I did. And while she probably should have asked me first, she pulled me in for a hug. Her arms closed around my back, pulling me in. Trapping me.

Or that’s what hugs usually felt like to me, but somehow this one didn’t, even though I was already suffocating. If anything, it eased the pain in my chest. She held me long enough where I could breathe again, even if what I was breathing was her lavender and hair spray scent, and then pulled away. “You look beautiful,” she said. “Now let’s go home and get you dressed.”

I trailed after her into the cab, stomach simmering with unease.

—

An unease that persisted the rest of the afternoon, as Seth and I hung out and watched the Food Network from opposite ends of the couch, me doing my best not to move so that I didn’t ruin my hair. When the time started getting close to the ball, I applied some light makeup—anything else was beyond my capabilities—and, slowly and torturously, managed to shimmy out of my T-shirt without disturbing any bobby pins. I really deserved an award for that. From Seth, whose preparation for the ball consisted of combing his hair and putting on clothes. The differential here did not seem fair.