I WAKE UP in a pile of nacho chip crumbs and blonde hair, trying to find the source of the ringing noise that yanked me from an amazing dream. Gradually, I realize it wasn’t a dream. I’m still naked, still tangled in bed with Samantha Vine and the remnants of our late-night “funky fresh Cal Mex” feast.
The pieces fall together. We shared to-go margaritas. We started eating burritos downstairs and finished eating chips and guac upstairs, with enough sex in between that my dick feels a little chapped. And now it’s Saturday. Saturday.
“Shit!”
I sit up, whipping my head around the room in search of my phone as Samantha rolls onto her side and makes a groaning sound. “Wazzamatter?”
“I’m so late. I have to take my Bubbie to the synagogue.” I find my phone and silence the alarm, trying to decide what to do. I simply don’t have time to go home and shower. Stooping to gather up my clothes from the floor, I nearly trip over Samantha, who is inexplicably standing in my way.
“What’s a bubbee?”
I blow out a breath and wince, worried I just hit her with some foul post-burrito halitosis. “My grandmother. I take her to our synagogue every week and I have to pick her up in…” I look at my phone screen. “Ten minutes. Shit, shit, shit.”
Samantha nods. “I’ll come with you. Grandmas love me.”
I freeze. “Sam. You can’t come with me. Come on.” I start hopping into yesterday’s pants. My clothes are wrinkled but still presentable. This can be okay. I glance up and she’s glaring at me, nostrils twitching.
“You don’t want me to meet your Bubbie? After I bought you burritos?”
I make a sound between a hiss and a moan, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt, staring incredulously as Samantha quickly steps into some sort of one-piece flowy pantsuit. Is she even wearing a bra? “Samantha, I really don’t have time to discuss this right now.” I glance around the room, patting down my sweater and blowing a breath into my palm. This is a nightmare.
She shakes her hair and looks ready for the limelight. Seriously, how is this woman so effortlessly gorgeous? She makes a wicked face at me. “I’ll lend you a toothbrush if you take me with you.”
Five minutes later we’re both crammed into my Fit. I still have no idea what’s happening here but I have no time to contemplate the impact of showing up to shul with a woman. Bubbie is going to interrogate me for hours about this. Hours. As I pull up in front of her apartment, I decide it’s not actually such a terrible thing if Bubbie and the other yentas jump to conclusions about me and Samantha Vine. I look at her again. She’s smearing some shiny gloss on her lips, wearing mirrored sunglasses that match her outfit. She’s a knockout.
Compared to her, I look exactly like what I am: a wrinkled grouch. But actually, I’m not really all that grouchy today. Apart from the chapped penis, I’m feeling pretty good. And then my grandmother screams.
I didn’t even notice her coming out of her building, but as she peers into the window of my car, noticing Samantha, Bubbie shrieks and clutches her chest. Panicked, I scramble out of the car and run to her side. “Oh my god, Bubbie! What’s wrong?”
Samantha eases out of the car, her face etched with concern. “Mrs. Trachtenberg? Are you all right?”
Bubbie grips Samantha’s arm, her hand like a claw as she stares into Sam’s face. “Adriel,” she whispers. “Who is this gorgeous creature?” Samantha beams, seemingly relieved that my grandmother is just being dramatic, rather than having a stroke.
“I’m Samantha Vine,” she says, patting my grandmother’s hand. “I’m the reason your grandson was late this morning. He told me how important punctuality is to you, and I just wanted to apologize in person.” My grandmother looks like she’s going to faint in a puddle of bliss.
“Adriel,” she croaks. “You are forgiven. But you are in so much trouble for keeping this vivacious woman a secret. Is she coming to services? Tell me she’s coming with us to services. Rose Ackerman is going to explode when she sees.”
As if the matter is settled, my grandmother reaches for the back door of the car and makes to hoist herself inside. Samantha gasps. “Mrs. Trachtenberg, no! I insist you sit up front with AJ. Let me climb there in the back.” And again, as if the matter is settled, Samantha ducks into the back and clicks her seatbelt into place.
My grandmother beams as she climbs into the car. She twists herself around to face Samantha, utterly ignoring me, and asks, “How do you know my Adriel?”
Samantha peeks over the top of her sunglasses. “It all started with a big misunderstanding,” she says. “But then we mended fences at an event this week.”
Bubbie claps her hands. “The teacher of the year awards! Are you a teacher, too? Isn’t it wonderful how Adriel was being recognized?”
“Bubs, I told you, that’s not what it was.”
Samantha chuckles. “He was being recognized, though. And his student, Margot, was a speaker at the dinner. She sent me her talk afterward. That gal is going places!”
I meet Sam’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Margot sent you something?”
She nods. “Yes, I got her mother’s information from the program organizers. Margot’s already going to the coding camp this summer but I made sure to let her mother know how vital those sorts of public speaking skills can be, even in the realm of computer science.”
“Samantha owns a tech company,” I tell my grandmother as I pull up in front of the temple.
I wait for Bubbie to climb out but she just glares at me. “I’m not going in there alone and miss the chance to see everyone notice your new girlfriend, Adriel. Go ahead and find a parking place and we’ll all walk together.”
“Oh, I’m not sure about…girlfriend isn’t…I…” Samantha looks panicked as I drive slowly up the street in search of a parking space.
“This is all very new, Bubs,” I tell her.
My grandmother snorts. When I finally park the car, she climbs out and clings to Samantha like, well, like a vine. I pop my emergency kippah on my head and smile, watching the two of them mount the steps to the temple. Every person within earshot listens as Bubbie introduces, “My AJ’s Samantha, isn’t she gorgeous?” And I like the sound of that, the implication of her as mine. I keep waiting for Sam to reveal something, some discomfort at the association with me, but it doesn’t come.
She shakes hands with all Bubbie’s friends and laughs at their jokes and seems to genuinely enjoy the butterscotch candies they offer as we find our seats. In the years we were together, Lara only ever reluctantly joined my family at services on the major holidays. And even then, she pouted the entire time like she had somewhere better to be.
Samantha just invited herself along this morning even after I told her she couldn’t come, and honestly I’m not sure what to make of it all. But I do know that I’m sitting in shul with my arm around Samantha Vine, like we’re a couple. Like I’m someone she cares about in return. As she snuggles closer to my side, I allow myself to believe it.