After David and I had made love for a few days, he asked me if I were hungry. Hell, yes, I was hungry. He thought about which kosher restaurant he could take me to that was nearby. I told him that I really wanted to go to a diner, the kind that served coffee in big ole porcelain mugs and where the waitress would just keep filling my cup without me having to ask. David listened to me and chose the Dairy Bar. We walked together to the restaurant. It was perfect, a real old-fashioned diner with a bakery counter, too. The place was nearly empty because it was between breakfast time and lunch time. The waitress, Maria, recognized him and was very friendly. She fussed over me like I was a Princess – because I was with David. She was sweet, but did not get the concept of keeping my coffee cup full. Twice I had to ask for more coffee. Grrr. David was speaking to me, probably about one of his plans. I know it was brilliant, whatever he was saying, and I know I was fascinated by every word, but with the passage of time, I only remember how he looked. My David was so handsome to me. Really, he’s just an average Joe and he knows he’s rather short, but I could stare at him all day. It makes me giddy to be near him.
After the meal, I begged him to sing Bircat HaMazon for me (like he used to do in Tzfat) and to let me yotzi on him. There were only a handful of other people in the restaurant, just one table and a black hat guy. Moved by my excitement, David leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and began to sing – softly, at first. I put my chin on the table and listened to his voice. Enthralled, I was remembering Israel and all the times he sang for me (and for Hashem) at our table, just the two of us. David always sang the blessing for His Master’s Pleasure. I was just a lucky spectator. As he sang each verse, clear and true, I was so happy. I was happy to be near him. I was happy to see him doing the mitzva again. I was happy to be a Jew. I think his singing reaches Shemayim and makes even the Malachim happy. When David had finished, he opened his eyes and the people in the restaurant started clanging silverware in an effort to pretend that they had not been watching us together. David told me that the lone man across from us was the head of the Kashrus program that he was trying to get into. He thought that was ironic but I knew Hashem was showing him off. We are both proud of our David’s Yiddishkeit.
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