10

Little Addis Ababa sat on the corner of Fairfax and Olympic—an incongruent disk of Ethiopian culture encircled by predominantly Jewish areas and establishments. On my way home from work, I must have driven by there dozens of times, but I never paid much attention. Now I observed with virgin eyes. I found metered parking on the street a few yards away from the ubiquitous Star$s. Catercorner to where I was standing was a block-long Jewish school called Shalhevet—grades six through twelve.

Standing directly across from me, Koby was dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved coffee-colored shirt two shades darker than his skin tone. Several gold chains rested around a bare neck. He waved and so did I. After I traversed the heavily trafficked street, he greeted me with a peck on the cheek and a wide smile. He was carrying a large blue paper bag from The Gap.

“You look lovely,” he said. “Nice outfit. I like the scarf. It adds flair.”

“You look rather fetching yourself. I like the jewelry.”

“Sort of retro disco, no?”

“All you need is a gold razor blade to complete the image.”

“Yeah, then I really give the cops an excuse to pull …” He looked away and clenched a fist. “I don’t believe I say that!”

I laughed. “That’s all right. I would have pulled you over. Feel better now?”

“I am very stupid!”

“You are very honest.” I quickly switched gears, pointing to the school across the way, specifically to a lit candle painted on the wall. “Does ‘shalhevet’ mean fire in Hebrew?”

“Fire is ‘aish,’” he told me. “‘Shalhevet’ is flame.”

“My stepmother would love you. You should come to the house for Shabbat dinner sometime.”

“That would be great. I am free this Friday.”

My mouth opened and I shut it quickly. My foot was so far down my throat, it was in my stomach. “Uh, I’ll ask her. I don’t know her plans. …”

His laugh was good-natured, but tinged with embarrassment. Even through the dark complexion, I detected a rosy glow. “Again I speak without thinking. I am too anxious. Sorry. Whenever is fine, Cindy. You barely know me.”

If I reneged now, I’d be a chump. “No, really, it’s fine. I’ll ask her.”

“If you ask and she says yes, I’ll come. So I give you an excuse. You can always say that she said no.”

“I don’t need excuses, Koby, I have an open invitation.” Now it was a matter of pride. “You’re invited. I’ll tell my dad to tell my stepmother, all right?”

“If you still feel that way after lunch, I’d be happy to come.” He handed me the sack. “This is for you. I didn’t have a chance to wrap anything.”

I knew how late he had worked, and was touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you. How do you know my size?”

“I don’t. Look inside.”

I did, pulling out a pound of coffee and a round, spongy brown disk packaged in plastic. He took the coffee from me and opened it. “Special blend. Smell.”