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Susan Shapiro: “A Jewish Man Who’s Never Been Married is Schlepping a Different Kind of Luggage Around”

               
“I hope you’re having a nice birthday,” he threw in before walking off.
               
Lila waved, putting on her coat,  watching Daniel leave without her.
 
“That coat looks lovely,” her mother said, straightening the collar of the black jacket  she’d bought Lila on sale at Loehmann’s. In the store it looked regal; now Lila wished it were lighter, cashmere.
They walked out the side door.  Flushed from seeing Daniel, Lila steered her mom toward a bench.  They sat down.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Hannah asked.
           
Lila’s mouth opened. So much for the subterfuge. “No. I’m not.”
           
“Why not?”
           
“Why do you think we are?” Lila was stunned by her bluntness. 
              
 “The way he was trying not to look at you. And the way he was trying not to look at me,” she said. “He’s obviously crazy about you.”
                
“You think so?” Lila was jolted by how casual her mom sounded. And wildly intrigued. But Daniel  hadn’t even tried to kiss her.
             
“You’re only attracted to him intellectually?” her mom probed.
               
“No, I’m totally into him. But he doesn’t want to get involved.” Lila could never keep secrets from her. “He won’t date a student.”
               
“He certainly wants to date you.”
                
“You think so?”
               
Her mother nodded. “No doubt in the world.”
                
Lila was thrilled, especially since her mom was on the psychic side. Uncle Ezra called her a Jewish witch. “Did you catch his line about loving me too?”
                
“I bet he doesn’t know any of his other students’ birthdays,” Hannah smiled. “But you said he grew up motherless?  How old was he when he lost her?”
               
“Twelve and a half.”
               
“Oy, right before his bar mitzvah.” Hannah nodded vigorously, as if that explained everything. “Some people never recover from that kind of loss.”
 
Was her mom talking about herself? Or Lila not recovering from her father’s death?
“That’s why I wanted you to get out of Baraboo. So you wouldn’t marry the first guy who got you in bed, like I did.”
          
“You were madly in love with Dad,” Lila said.
               
“I was. But don’t  screw up your dreams for a man.”
           
“Daniel’s helping me,” Lila said. “He introduced me to his whole New York gang.”
           
“You want to marry him or be him?” Hannah asked her daughter. 
              
Wow. Lila was mind blown by the thought. “Some profs here  get way too close to students. But Daniel doesn’t. He’s very moralistic.”
               
“Morals are good, my shayna maidel.” She used Lila’s Yiddish nickname. “But there might be a reason he’s single.”  
           
“He hasn’t found the right one yet because it’s me,” Lila said.
 
“I know how exciting an older man can be.” She moved closer, whispered, “When I was a secretary at Madison newspaper company, I went out with my boss. He was twenty years older.”
           
“Really?” Lila  never heard this story before.  It was disturbing and dazzling,  all kinds of mysteries hiding behind her mother’s eyes.  “When you were younger than me?  Was he hot for you? What happened?”
           
“I wound up falling for your dad. An older divorced guy with a son was too complicated.”
               
“Daniel’s not divorced or anything!” Lila told her. “He never had a wife or kids. It would be way worse if he had that baggage.”
               
“Honey, a Jewish man who’s never been married by forty-two is schlepping a different kind of luggage around,” her mother said. “One with a dead body in it.”