Free Dating Kosher by Michaela Greene Page A

that I’m not even totally sure I heard her right) as ‘the homewrecker’s spawn.’ Like my mother who had been the one to break up my parents’ marriage?
    She also went on to tell me later in the evening, not very discreetly either, I might add, about how much pain and heartache her mother had caused her over the years and what a bitch she was. Maybe it was the years of therapy that helped me adjust better than Jen, but her whining was so boring, I faked stomach cramps just to get away from her.
    I couldn’t account for what Susan may have inflicted on her daughter, but I did know I liked her much better than her spoiled brat of an offspring and was happy that she hadn’t been invited on this shopping trip.
    “We have a lot of mothers and daughters coming in together. Lots of wedding parties and shower groups,” I said. “Girls’ nights, too.”
    Lisa returned with our drinks and placed them on the little bistro table between Susan and I before she nodded at Susan. “I’ll just get the first dress, Ms. Rosenblatt.”
    I looked over at Susan, shocked that she had been addressed by my last name.
    Susan smiled and leaned toward me as Lisa glided into the back room again. “I just can’t stand using my ex-husband’s last name. You don’t think it matters, do you?”
    I snorted. “I don’t think they care here, as long as your credit’s good.”
    Susan rolled her eyes and nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”
    The dresses Susan had pre-selected were all very nice. I could easily see myself wearing any of them but in the end, I selected a silver sheath with spaghetti straps and a slight flare at the hem. A description on paper doesn’t do it justice, but it was beautiful and when I tried it on, it looked great. A pair of silver strappy slingbacks (also provided by Lisa, personal shopper extraordinaire, my apologies to Julio) and I was all set.
    “That looks just lovely on you, Shoshanna,” Susan beamed. I have to admit, it was nice hearing her compliment. My own mother, although having a good eye for fashion, also had a sharp tongue, picking at the tiniest of little details (the hemline is too high, the neckline is too low, not cut for you, wrong color, doesn’t match your eyes, makes you look fat—a fat size two).
    “Thanks,” I said. “I like it a lot.” I twirled again in the mirror, liking what I saw. I was going to look great.
    For no one, unless a miracle happened.
    * * *
    Once inside my apartment, I immediately hung up the dress in my closet, remembering the last time I had draped a new outfit over the sofa. Armani had crawled up into the garment bag and fallen asleep on the wool crepe suit, leaving about a pound of hair embedded into the fabric. It was a nightmare I was unwilling to repeat (two hours of lint-brushing and tweezing at the five hundred dollar suit was not my idea of fun).
    I finally got a chance to check voicemail. Only one message.
    “Hi Shosh, just wondering what you’re doing tonight.” Bev.
    “Well, it’s not like I have anything planned,” I told Armani who had jumped onto the back of the sofa, looking for love, or at least a stray hand to rub up against.
    Dialing Bev’s number, I pulled open the fridge door to have a peek. Nothing good: a couple of eggs, yogurt and very questionable milk.
    “Hey Bev, I’m not doing anything tonight,” I said when she answered on the third ring.
    “Wanna get a movie or something?” Bev’s first choice was always staying in. My first choice was always going out. Somehow we managed to compromise, though by my mental tally, tonight was my turn to win.
    “Nah, let’s go get something to eat. Somewhere cool.” I didn’t feel like dancing, but maybe going to a chic restaurant and being seen would be enough to sate my desire to be with other people. And who knows, maybe I’d find a good candidate for the wedding, I thought.
    “Okay. But I get to pick where. I want to go to Patio. I’ll pick you up at