Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you Captain Crunk for hashing this one out with me! And Shana Tova - Happy New Year - to those who observe the holiday! :)
The four roommates walked out of the sanctuary.
"That was really beautiful, Schmidt. I kinda wish I was Jewish now," said Jess. She was dressed in a short-sleeved black dress with a white bow and a skirt that flared to her knees.
"I know, right? The singing, man! Now I miss going to church!" Winston replied, hand at his heart. He and Nick were both dressed in button-downs, slacks and ties.
"Okay, seriously, enough about the singing - where are the drinks you promised us, Schmidt?" Nick held hands with Jess, partly because he didn't want to lose her in this crowd - who could've known how many of those Jewish girls were short and had brown hair, too? - and partly because he just wanted to hold her hand, dammit.
"Nick, Jess, Winston, thank you for joining me in celebrating my culture. Please, follow me and we'll get our refreshments."
They walked down a hallway and into a large room filled with tables of desserts and lined along the walls with more tables holding a variety of alcoholic beverages.
"Oh-ho! Scotch! And it's the good stuff, too!" cried Nick. The rest of their group situated themselves between a table of alcohol and one with plates and various cookies. "Best of both worlds, am I right?"
"Linzer tarts! These are my favorite!" Jess reached for one of the cookies and took a bite. "Oh, they use raspberry jelly. That's disappointing. I should send them my recipe for the kind I make with strawberry jelly. So much better. Here, have a bite." She fed Nick the last bit of her cookie when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, dear. Did I just overhear you mentioning that you bake?"
Jess looked over at the speaker. It was a woman in her mid-fifties, her medium brown hair perfectly coiffed with copper highlights, wearing a fashionable tan skirt-suit.
"Um, yes, I did. Hi, I'm Jess."
"I'm Sylvia. You seem like such a lovely girl. I'm always excited to meet new faces here."
"Oh, thank you! So nice to meet you. This is my first time at a synagogue, and it's been really lovely."
"If you don't mind my asking, what do you do, dear?"
"Oh, I'm a teacher. In a middle school."
"That's a wonderful job! My daughter is studying to be a teacher."
"Really? That's great. It's so rewarding."
"I'm sure it is. I have no doubt you're going to make a lucky young man very happy one day, too—"
"Oh! Um, thanks. I'm sorry, I should introduce you, this is Nick, my b—"
"You're quite the catch, dear. Such a shayne punim - that means a pretty face, you know, in Yiddish."
"Thank you—"
"You know, I think I have just the boy for you."
"Oh, but I'm already—"
"He's a doctor, very handsome, very smart."
"Um, my last boyfriend was a doctor. Didn't work out." Jess cast a look at Nick at her side. This was actually kind of funny – how clueless was this woman? – but he didn't look very amused.
"Hey, lady." Schmidt had been watching this entire exchange and was beginning to feel rather irritated at the woman's neglect of the real catch in this pond. He flashed her his million-dollar smile. "My name's Schmidt. And I'm single."
Sylvia turned to look at him. "You and everyone else, dear. Take a number, please." She turned back to Jess. "Anyway, he's such a nice boy, and I've been looking so hard to find the right girl for him. Do you know how hard it is to find a nice Jewish girl who knows how to cook and bake? I'll say it again, Jess, you're a real catch! Now—"
"Oh, but I'm not—"
Schmidt interrupted again. "You know, I can cook and bake, too. Learned how when I went to business school. I have my M.B.A. in marketing. I'm a rising star, lady. A real catch."
Sylvia looked Schmidt up and down. "No offence, I'm sure you're a very nice boy, but you're a dime a dozen here, honey." He stepped away, insulted, and she turned back to Jess. "Here's my card, dear. Please give me a call on Monday and we'll talk. If the doctor doesn't work out, I have a lawyer I'd love for you to meet!" She handed her a card and walked over to another table of younger congregants.
Jess looked at the card. "Sylvia Katzenberg, professional matchmaker. Am I the only one who thinks it was totally ridiculous that she didn't even see you, Nick?"
"No! No, it was not totally ridiculous! It was upsetting!"
"Oh, come on, man! It was actually kind of hilarious," said Winston, who had watched the entire exchange with amusement.
"Well, clearly, that woman is absolutely no good at her job. Passing up a king salmon for some whale chum – excuse the expression, Jess."
"Hey!" Nick and Jess retorted simultaneously.
"And that's not an expression! That's an insulting analogy that you just made up!" added Jess.
"Come on, guys, let's not argue again. I thought it was all funny. Let's have some more drinks and dessert. I've gotta get home soon and get some sleep anyway," said Winston, in an attempt to pacify them. "Hey, Schmidt, what kind of cookies are these?" He held up a piece of pastry covered in powdered sugar and rolled up with what looked like a chocolate filling.
"Those are rugelach, Winston. My people may have a lot of pointless and odd customs, but at least they got the cookies right."
Jess squinted at Schmidt. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"What's what supposed to mean?" repeated Schmidt, already distracted by a watch someone near him was wearing. "Hey, do you think that's a real Rolex?"
"What you just said," answered Jess. "Why would you say your customs are pointless and odd?"
"Honestly, Jess, just look around you. Almost all of the people in this room only show up twice a year to pay lip service to their religion – myself included – because that's what our mothers taught us to do. We're not here to celebrate a new year, or think about how we've done things wrong, or pray for our souls. We're here because it's a habit. That and it's like a high school reunion. Every guy here wants to see how much worse everyone else is doing in comparison. Also we're all trying to get it on with the one blonde girl in the room." He patted her shoulder patronizingly.
"What?" Jess wiped her mouth, taken aback.
"Jenny Schwartz. Her mom was a convert from Sweden. And as the one guy here who did tap that, I can tell you that her carpet really does match—"
"Jar!" Nick interrupted. "Come on, with all the honey out here does nobody have a jar?" He was already in a bad mood. Hearing Schmidt's douche-commentary was only going to make it worse.
Schmidt continued. "Nobody here really thinks all this stuff is important, Jess. We do it for the same reasons we eat matzah on Passover – it's not because it says we have to anywhere. It's because Jews will find creative ways to consume carbohydrates any way they can."
Winston gave Schmidt the side-eye. "Um, pretty sure eating unleavened bread on Passover is actually in the Bible, Schmidt."
"What's matzah?" Nick groused. "What a weird word!"
"You know what? I don't understand you, Schmidt! You should be proud of your culture! This isn't some let's-get-drunk-and-party new year's celebration. This is what it's like to take it seriously! Think about what your want your year to be! Try to fix your mistakes! With honey, and cookies!"
"Mistakes? Speak for yourself, Jess. I'm Schmidt. I don't make mistakes."
"Are you kidding me?"
Winston looked around the room. He already knew how this was going to go down, so he was going to try to find a way to be anywhere but where he currently was. "Hey, is that chocolate cake?" He quickly walked to the other table. A couple of old men, one with glasses, were standing there, arguing.
"There's no way they're going to forgive him for doping up!" The argument was, apparently, getting heated. Why'd he have to walk into another argument? It sounded like it was about baseball, though, so it was still better than the Jess vs. Schmidt showdown he'd left.
The man with the glasses responded. "They always forgive them! Don't you know anything?"
Winston piped up. "You know, if you don't mind my saying so, it really just boils down to whether he admits he was wrong and apologizes. If he does that, no one will care about it in two weeks. Especially with the playoffs coming up."
The two men looked up.
"See?" said the man with the glasses. "That's what I've been saying! Even this guy agrees with me!"
"Great, here we go again. Just because one guy agrees with you doesn't mean you're right! It just means you're both morons!"
"Please excuse my former friend," said Glasses, glaring daggers at his companion. "Obviously he doesn't know how to behave in polite company!"
"No problem, man," replied Winston, backing up a little. "I didn't mean to get in the middle of anything there. I just love talking about sports."
"Hey, you sound familiar. Have I met you before?" asked Glasses.
"I don't think so, but I do have a sports radio show."
"When is it on?"
"In the middle of the night."
"That's where I've heard you before! You're Winston Bishop, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am! Wait, you're up at 3 AM? Why?"
"I'm seventy-three years old, son. Insomnia is a way of life. I'm Sidney, nice to meet you in person."
"Sidney? You're 'Look-Winston,-I-have-to-call-in-every-other-night -because-you're-getting-it-all-wrong-Sidney?' Nice to meet you, man!" Winston gave him a hug. "Hey, guys, look! I just met one of my fans!"
Jess, Nick, and Schmidt all paused in their argument and turned to look towards Winston and smiled.
"That's great!"
"Good for you, man!"
"Nice one, Win!"
As they turned away Winston heard them resume fighting.
"My best friend is pissed off at all of us because of something you did! How can you not admit you were wrong?"
"Stop being such a busy-body, Jess! I was being kind and generous, giving two lovely women a chance to be with me! And I got to be with them, too! Everybody won!"
"Stop calling my girlfriend a busy-body!"
"I'm not being a busy-body! You just don't take anything seriously, Schmidt! Not your religion, not people's feelings, and you sure as hell don't take any legitimate personal criticism seriously!"
"Jess, how can I possibly take any criticism seriously coming from a woman who has powdered sugar stains all over her dress?"
In the car ride home, Winston began singing a Fiddler medley (beginning with Sunrise, Sunset). Jess joined in on occasion, as Schmidt rolled his eyes in silence and Nick just kept frowning crossly and criticizing the lyrics. ("If I were a rich man I'd biddy biddy bum? What the hell does that even mean?") As they entered the loft, the medley had moved on to Matchmaker, at which point Nick had had enough and stormed off into his room, slamming the door. Jess and Winston looked at each other.
"I guess I'd better – "
"Yeah, you go talk to him."
Jess knocked quietly on Nick's door and entered, closing the door behind her. Nick was standing in front of his desk, leaning his hands on the edge.
"So that woman really got to you, huh?"
He turned around.
"What? No, she didn't – I mean, it's her job –"
"Nick, you've been in a bad mood ever since she tried to set me up with some guy."
"It was right in front of me, Jess! Like I didn't even exist!"
"I tried to introduce you! She was just really persistent! And it's not like I said yes, so why are you angry at me?"
"I'm not –" He lowered his voice. "I'm not angry at you, Jess. I just don't like it rubbed in my face that you could have your pick of guys. Like I'm just here to kill time until you find the right one."
"What?! Why the hell would you even think that?"
"You heard her yourself! You're a great catch!"
"Says who? Because I can cook? Well, guess what? I'm also weird! I'm embarrassing! I sing out loud in public – a lot! I'm annoying! I over-analyze everything! I'm easily distracted and am totally unequipped to handle real life sixty percent of the time!"
"But none of that matters!" He stepped closer to her.
"Why? Why shouldn't it?" She was right in front of him, her chin angled up so she could look him in the eye.
"Because I like all those things about you."
"Well, you're probably the only man in the world who does."
Nick laughed. "I might be."
"So why are you so intimidated by one crazy woman who thinks she knows enough about me after five minutes to set me up with the perfect guy for me when he was standing right next to her the whole time and she didn't even notice?"
"…'Cause I'm an idiot?"
Jess laughed. "I'm not going anywhere, Miller. If I wanted a nice Jewish boy, I'd be dating Schmidt, which – NO."
"Not even a nice Jewish doctor?"
"Didn't you hear? I dated a doctor once."
"Yeah? How'd that work out?" Nick's arms made their way around her waist.
"It didn't." Jess's arms made their way around his neck.
"What happened?"
"You kissed me."
"Is that right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"That's all it took, was it?"
"Pretty much."
"Good to know."
And then he did it again.
Out in the hallway, Schmidt sighed. Shouting, then silence. That's how it always went with those two. You'd hear the sounds of fighting, and then, invariably, they'd make up. Which would often be followed by more sounds of loud, obnoxious sex.
Dammit. That should be him having the loud, obnoxious sex. Not with Jess. Or Nick. With Cece. Or Elizabeth. Either one would be fine, at this point. If they were even talking to him. Trust Jess to be her know-it-all self and her and Nick to rub what he didn't have in his face. Namely, sex. And, you know, a relationship. With a girl.
What was Jess talking about, about his fixing his mistakes? He didn't make mistakes. The situation merely got out of hand, that was all. He should have known that dating his roommate's best friend would be a risky proposition. If Cece and Elizabeth hadn't found out about each other, everything would have been perfectly fine. They had each been really happy, after all. Because they'd had Schmidt. There was plenty of him to go around. And he was nothing if not generous.
Except now he had no one to share himself with.
Sure, he had his friends… but now it was all the Nick-and-Jess show, wasn't it? And Winston's job meant he was sleeping half the time everyone else was awake. It was nice of them to come with him to services, though. Jess, clearly, as a non-Jew, had no idea what being Jewish was all about. Saying he didn't take his religion seriously? What did she think, that all Jews had to be Rabbis? That would be ridiculous! Did she think business schools simply populated themselves?
Schmidt shook his head. Leave it to Jess to think religion had to mean something. Of course she would think so. The girl found meaning in a squirrel building a nest in the air ducts (speaking of which, he would have to talk to Remy about that… the scuttling sounds were getting distracting and he did not want Nick knocking holes in the walls). But he, Schmidt, knew that Judaism was what he made it into. Sure, it had thousands of years of tradition. But this was the millennium, baby – and the People of the Book ain't never had a Schmidt before.