Hold Tight

There was a perverse kind of pleasure for Miriam as she watched her friends’ reactions to her statement, a thrill trilling up her spine. She hid her smile behind her wineglass, taking a furtive sip. Aliza and Sarah’s eyes had widened in surprise, and Rivka looked absolutely horrified.

“That’s what you want to do for your birthday?” Aliza asked, her green eyes slowly returning to normal size.

“I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while. And I found the perfect place.”

One of Miriam’s college friends, Vanessa, had visited over the summer, and they’d managed to find a time to grab coffee. It was fun catching up with her, revisiting old memories from their ballroom dancing days together and reviving long quiet urges in Miriam to dance again.

It had been a while since Miriam had danced, and she missed it. The ballroom club at college had been a welcome refuge from school, part-time jobs, and her community. The overlap between ballroom dancers and Orthodox Jews was a miniscule Venn diagram. She’d found friends, exercise, and fun times amongst the dancers. It was sad that upon graduation, moving to the city, and starting her full-time job, dancing had fallen to the wayside. There were only so many hours in the day to do all the things adults had to get done.

But Vanessa managed to keep dancing in her life. Their conversation sparked Miriam to scour the internet to find a studio in the city. She finally found one and just in time for her birthday next week.

“There’s an introductory class in the early evening,” Miriam continued. “I was thinking of taking the class and then having dinner with everyone afterwards.”

“How much does a class cost?” Sarah asked. She was fiddling with the ring on her finger, the small diamond glinting in the reflection of her wineglass. Elliot had proposed a few days ago, and it was clear she still wasn’t used to the new piece of jewelry. The friends were all in Miriam’s apartment to celebrate Sarah’s engagement by polishing off opened yet unfinished bottles of wine from Shabbos and eating dessert leftovers.

Miriam named the price. “It’s discounted for first time visitors to the studio.”

“Well, I’m game to join,” Sarah said. “Won’t be any good at it, but why not?”

“Me too, sounds fun,” Aliza said. “But did you really have to do this the year your birthday is during the Yamim Nora’im?”

Rosh Hashanah was a few days away, Yom Kippur following soon after. This was a strangely peaceful moment, celebrating during the calm before the holidays hit and everything became utter chaos until they were all over. For Miriam, whenever she thought about it, and she usually tried not to, the days before any of the holidays felt like staring down the barrel of gun, nowhere to go but forward and through, a last deep breath before the plunge.

Miriam hadn’t really considered the timing of her birthday vis-à-vis the holidays except to see if she would have any time to celebrate at all, in any way. “Better before Yom Kippur than after, I think. It’s just one more thing to say vidui for.”

“I don’t think there’s an Al Chet for pole dancing,” Aliza said.

“Perhaps there should be,” Rivka muttered, her fingers twisting in and out of the tichel in her lap. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, the first time Miriam had seen her straight locks in a long while.

“You don’t have to join,” Miriam began.

“Thank you, I won’t.”

“But I hope you and Aaron will join us for dinner afterwards.”

Rivka raised her glass. “That we can do. Gladly.”

Miriam finished her glass of wine, twirling the stem in her fingers, smooth against her skin. “But I am curious, Rivka. Which would be better: going pole dancing, or going, say, salsa dancing? Because one is on a pole, but no one touches you, and the other is sans pole, but dancing with men.”

“Ah… mixed dancing,” Sarah chuckled. “The ultimate sin.”

Aliza shook her head as she stood up from her spot on the couch, walking over to the apartment’s small kitchen where the bottles were clustered on the counter. “All roads do lead to mixed dancing.”

Miriam laughed with them, and she saw Rivka fighting a smile. “So which is it, Rivka? Which would the rabbis approve of more?”

“Neither!”

Everyone laughed. Miriam placed her glass on the coffee table in front of her. She didn’t want to worry about breaking it by accident.

“I wonder,” Aliza said, returning to her spot, her wine refilled. “We all know why you’re not allowed to have sex standing up, because—”

“It leads to mixed dancing,” the three other women supplied in unison, each with a grin.

“So what would the equivalent be for pole dancing?” Aliza continued. “I mean, if it is as bad as mixed dancing, there’s gotta be some sort of shmira against it.”

“Like what?” Miriam asked. “You can’t have sex against a pole?”

“Nah, that’s too close to sex standing up,” Sarah said.

“Can’t hold on to metal during sex?” Rivka posited.

“I’ve got it!” Aliza put her wineglass down, giving her free access to her hands. “Talmidei chakhamim,” she began, her voice shifting in cadence. Miriam started to snicker, as did the others. They all knew that tone and rhythm well from years of listening to rabbis teaching the Gemara and giving Divrei Torah. “Why is it that metal bed frames are not permitted to be used in our households? Because” – Aliza’s hands moved with her words – “if you have a metal bed frame, you might hold onto it while you are having sex with your husband, and you cannot hold onto metal while having sex, because it will lead to pole dancing.”

Sarah was doubled-over, and Rivka had tears in her eyes as she cackled. Aliza threw her own head back once she’d finished telling the joke.

“Hey, I could almost believe it,” Miriam let out with a grin when she could finally breathe again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed that hard. “Gotta love those rabbis.” She lifted her drink in mock salute, the glass firm in her grasp.

*

In the days that followed, amongst the preparations for Rosh Hashanah, Miriam managed to confirm the plans with her friends for the class and birthday dinner afterwards. When the evening came, she, Sarah, and Aliza waited for the local train to arrive on the subway platform. The trio got on and clustered around one of the poles, gripping it against the train’s forward momentum.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Aliza said, shaking her head.

Miriam smiled. “No, you believe it. You just can’t believe that I was the one to suggest it, and not you.”

Aliza covered her mouth with her hand to suppress her laughter, not wanting to disturb the other riders.

“I just can’t believe that we’re pole dancing this week,” Sarah said.

“Blame my parents for having an October baby,” Miriam shrugged. “And it’s not my fault the holidays were late this year.”

Rosh Hashanah had been fun with her family, but she was trying not to think about Yom Kippur coming up soon. She had a tendency to forget that there would be a day after, the twenty-five hours of fasting looming so large as to eclipse everything around it.

“The holidays are never late,” Aliza said. “Nor are they early. They arrive precisely when they mean to.”

Miriam rolled her eyes with a smile to her friend. “Yeah, and if the holidays came with a wizard, I don’t think anyone would mind them as much.”

“What are you two talking about?” Sarah asked as they chuckled.

“Seriously, how are we friends with her?” Aliza asked Miriam. “How are we friends with you?”

“I don’t know. It’s a mystery,” Sarah replied, with a sigh of the long suffering.

“Only if this were a Shakespeare movie,” Miriam said, glancing at the subway platform as the doors closed. They had only a few more stops to go.

“Shakespeare? What?” Aliza asked.

“And now I get to ask how I’m friends with you,” Sarah said. “Shakespeare in Love… really?”

“I think not knowing Lord of the Rings is worse,” Aliza countered.

“Says you.”

“Luckily, I know both and can translate between the fandoms,” Miriam cut in. “And this is our stop.”

“I guess that explains why we’re both friends with you, Miriam,” Sarah joked as they made their way to street level. “I wouldn’t be doing this for just anyone’s birthday. Ben knows about this, right?”

“Of course. He and Elliot are meeting us for dinner afterwards.”

She didn’t blame Sarah for the question, she understood what had prompted it, though she did find it a bit annoying. Of course, her boyfriend knew what she was doing for her birthday, why would she hide it from him? Ben had known she was looking into dance studios, specifically for pole dancing, since Vanessa’s summer visit. If he’d found it odd or uncomfortable, he hadn’t said anything to her about it. And Miriam wouldn’t have blamed him if he had, seeing how even her girlfriends had been surprised when she finally told them. But he knew how she felt about dancing, how she missed it. He wanted her to be happy.

And he knows better than to try to dissuade me from something just for his own sake, she thought.

“This is it,” Miriam said, stopping on the sidewalk in front of the glass door and windows. The awning above the door read: Aerialist Arts Studio.

Vanessa had given her some direction for what to look for from websites but wasn’t familiar with New York City studios so she couldn’t recommend a specific place. Of all the studios Google had provided, this one seemed like the least sketchy, the least likely to make Miriam feel skeevy going into it. Seeing the reception booth beyond the windows, the white walls brightly lit and the people milling about in workout clothes going to and from classes, Miriam knew she had picked well.

If she hadn’t noted the pole dancing figure in the capital letters of the logo, she might never have known the studio even offered those classes.

“I can’t believe we are actually going to pole dance,” Aliza muttered once more.

Miriam grinned. “Better believe,” she said, pushing open the doors. They approached the front desk, where a smiling woman helped them sign in for their class and rent exercise mats. She gave them directions to the downstairs studio where their intro to pole class would be. They passed a staircase leading upstairs and a studio on the ground floor that looked like it was an aerial silks class, before reaching the stairs.

“We are all going to hell.”

Sarah laughed. “Jews don’t believe in hell, remember?”

“If taking one pole dancing class gets you to hell,” Miriam said, entering the small locker room. “Then we’ve all got bigger problems.” They were the only ones there. She opened a locker and, finding it empty, hefted her bag inside. The class would be barefoot, so she toed off her sneakers. “The God I believe in doesn’t work like that.”

“And if the God you believe in isn’t our God?” Sarah asked, as she put her stuff in the locker next to Miriam’s. She pulled off her sweater and jeans, changing into shorts and a workout top. “Tanach God is quite wrathful, you know.”

“Tanach God is just,” Miriam countered. “Sometimes justice is wrathful.” She’d worn leggings so she could just take her skirt off and be ready for the class. She picked up her discarded garment and put it into the locker before closing it. When she turned back to her friends, they were staring. “What?”

“Oh, nothing…” Aliza said, blinking up at her friend. She’d dressed in her exercise pants and shirt, so she didn’t need to change. She had brought a small bag she could fit her shoes in, so she was sitting on the bench in the center of the locker room, waiting for them. “It’s just… I’ve never actually seen your legs before.”

Sarah agreed with a nod, pulling out her water bottle before closing her locker.

Miriam glanced down, the black fabric of her leggings feeling tight against her skin. It was true she rarely wore pants. The dress code for work was business casual. It was easier to purchase outfits that she could wear to work and to shul so she could get as much possible use out of them. That meant skirts and dresses. And since she enjoyed going to minyan in the mornings, even on Sundays, if she wanted to wear pants after that, it meant changing clothes. Some Sundays she did, when there were a lot of errands or chores and wearing a skirt was impractical, but most Sundays she was just too lazy to pick another outfit. It had not been a conscious decision based on religion; it had just made more sense, practically and economically. But clearly her friends had assumed it was a frum thing. If you knew what to look for, you could spot a religious Jew a mile away, just from their clothing. Miriam had never thought that applied to her.

Guess I can’t really blame them… but it’s not like I cover my collar bone or elbows…

“Well, they’ve always been there.” She shook her legs out for good measure.

Aliza snickered. “What Ben would do for this view.”

“Maybe he’s seen them already,” Miriam said over her shoulder. She just saw their raised eyebrows and pseudo-scandalized smiles before exiting the locker room.

The studio was mirrored on three walls, floor to ceiling. Seven metal poles stretching just as high were evenly spaced out. The three of them sat by the back wall and waited for the class to begin. A redheaded woman was fiddling with the sound system in a cabinet in the corner. Other students came in and spread out around the room.

When she was done getting music set up, the redhead came around and introduced herself to each person individually. Her name was Kate, she would be the instructor for the day.

“How is your body feeling today? Have you done pole dancing before? Don’t expect everything to go smoothly right away, especially if it’s your first time. You’re trying something new, and that always takes time to get better and feel good at.”

Miriam liked her bubbly smile and blunt honesty.

Kate started the class once she’d spoken to all the students, a total of twelve people. Miriam was pleasantly surprised to see two men in the class and two women who looked to be in their forties.

“We’re going to start with a warm-up before we get down to dancing. Before that, everyone should take off any jewelry on your hands and arms and anything that hangs, so necklaces or dangly earrings. We don’t want anything scratching the poles or getting caught and damaged.”

There was a shift throughout the room as several people removed rings, watches, and necklaces. Miriam looked over at Sarah, who was slowly taking off her engagement ring.

“Sarah, put it in my bag,” Aliza offered, her small bag resting against the wall.

The panic in Sarah’s eyes subsided, as she gratefully put her ring in the bag’s buttoned pocket.

“My hand feels naked,” Sarah muttered. “I haven’t even been wearing it that long…”

“You’ll put it back on in an hour,” Miriam told her. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, just feels weird.” She flexed her bare fingers, staring at her hand.

“Weirder than dancing on a pole in the first place?” Aliza asked.

Before either Miriam or Sarah could respond, Kate called the room to attention.

“Everyone ready? Let’s get started!”

*

“Your options for challenges, should you choose to accept them, are as follows: Option one—just do the moves we’ve learned today. That’s a pole walk, pivot, body roll, dip spin, and back-hook spin.”

Kate demonstrated each move once more as she spoke.

“Option two—do all the moves and make sure your head is up the entire time. Nothing interesting is happening on the floor, I promise you. You do not have to look down there. So head up, eyes forward. Option three—do the moves, head up, and do something with your free hand. Maybe it’s on your hip, maybe it’s flared out, maybe it’s tracing your body, maybe it’s playing with your hair.”

Once again, Kate demonstrated the options as she walked around the pole.

“Whatever it’s doing, it’s just not dangling there. And finally, option four—the moves, the head, the hands, and at some point, while you are dancing, make eye contact with yourself in one of the mirrors and eye-fuck the shit out of yourself.”

“Now that’s a directive,” Aliza murmured. Miriam bit her lip to stop from laughing.

“What is not optional is having fun,” Kate continued. “No matter what, just have fun. You’re going to look amazing and sexy if you are enjoying yourself. Now I’m going to put the lights down. If you want to record yourself, now is the time to set up your cameras. Please check with anyone who might be in the frame that it is okay to have them in the background.”

Neither Miriam nor Aliza were interested in recording their awkwardness for posterity. Sarah was sharing a pole with a different woman and was similarly inclined to leave no video evidence of their escapades.

“Group one, have fun!”

Aliza and Sarah approached their respective poles. Miriam sat back to watch. The main lights went down, spotlights of color pulsing near each pole. Kate put on a pop song, the strong beat coursing through the room as each person started to dance. Miriam hyped her friends, cheering for them. It reminded her of her ballroom days, attending competitions and calling out the numbers of her friends, hoping to draw the judges’ attention to them as they danced across the floor. Aliza and Sarah moved around their poles the way that the newbies used to dance at their first lessons—aware of the eyes on them watching, awkward in their self-consciousness. Miriam cheered as loud as she could, glad to see the two of them smiling, at least.

The song ended and the dancers were applauded. Sarah and Aliza both looked like they’d had fun but were more than happy to be done as well.

“Group two, you’re up!”

Miriam approached the pole, her inside hand reaching high and touching cold metal. Kate started a new pop song with a slightly slower beat than the previous one. She heard Aliza and Sarah cheering, but their voices faded to the background for her as she focused on the music.

She moved around the pole, head up, free hand engaged. The steps hadn’t been easy for her to learn, but they hadn’t been as hard as she’d expected. Her old dance training had come roaring back, her body remembering how to move in ways it hadn’t in a long while. After a few tries, she picked up the basics of each move and felt decent about them, even if she wasn’t objectively good.

Miriam caught sight of herself in the mirror. The ballroom club hadn’t practiced in mirrored rooms, so it was a strange sight to see herself dancing. It was one thing to imagine how you might look dancing or see a video of yourself dancing after the fact, both of which Miriam had done with ballroom, but another thing entirely to see yourself in the moment. For the first time all evening, she felt weird and out of place.

Dancing had fallen to the wayside because of time, money, and other priorities, that was true, but in a secret part of her heart, Miriam could admit there was one element that had made it easy to give it up. After all, she didn’t have someone to dance with anymore. Or maybe “not yet” was the more appropriate phrase.

Her hands re-gripped the pole as she positioned her body for a spin. Somehow the metal still felt cold to her touch. She pushed off her inside foot and went twirling around the pole.

She could remember what it felt like to dance with her partners in college: the warmth of a hand in hers, a hand on her back, her hand on someone’s arm. There was security of being in another person’s hold and dancing together. Her partner had been her primary focus, her eyes trained on his face. Even when she looked away for a particular move, she always returned to face him. Their eyes would meet, and they’d connect to take the next step in tandem.

Miriam looked at herself in the mirror again. She rolled her body. Vanessa had taught her how years ago and made her practice up against a wall to learn body isolation. When done with a partner, the effect was sexy, two bodies in motion reacting to and with each other.

But she was alone. Even though she thought she looked pretty good in the mirror, there was nothing beside her but a pole, an inanimate piece of metal.

She wondered what Ben would make of this. He knew she was taking this class, but there was a difference between knowing intellectually and seeing for oneself. How would he react if he saw her moving this way?

He’d be supportive and you know it. Like you are of him, she thought. He’d probably find it sexy.

Miriam pushed off the floor again to the back-hook spin, sending her weight in a backwards spiral towards the ground. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes to combat the feeling of falling. She had to just let the physics of gravity and centrifugal force work. She felt a thrill of success and pleasure when her knees touched the ground in the correct position. Lifting her head, she was confronted again with her reflection—on her spread knees, one leg hooked around the pole, her arms forming a triangle on the pole with her head between them. She let her arms come down to her sides and sat further back on her heels for a moment.

Not that it would change anything, if Ben saw her. Could change anything, she corrected herself.

The song faded out. She and the other dancers were applauded by the rest of the students and Kate. Miriam pulled her leg out from the hook position and got up from her knees.

Kate led the group through a quick cooldown and explained the next steps if people were interested in taking more classes at the studio. Miriam knew she probably wouldn’t have time to take more classes, but she listened anyway, just in case.

The class officially ended. The students thanked Kate as they gathered their stuff and left the room. Sarah retrieved her engagement ring. The three friends said their own thanks to Kate and headed for the door.

As she passed the final pole, Miriam let her knuckles graze against the metal. It was cold to the touch.

*

By the time Miriam had presented her birthday plans to her friends, they’d gone through several bottles of leftover wine in celebration of Sarah’s engagement. But still she, Sarah, Aliza, and Rivka somehow managed to get to the point of talking about sexual fantasies. She blamed the alcohol. And perhaps that she’d said she wanted to try pole dancing, but mostly the alcohol.

“I’m betting Miriam has the most elaborate ones,” Aliza said, wineglass in hand. “You guys have been together for months and you have done practically nothing.”

Miriam chuckled. It was no secret; it couldn’t really be. It was well known amongst his friends, and hers, that Ben was shomer negiah. Not being able to touch someone of the opposite sex until marriage eliminated the possibility of doing practically anything.

“So, what are they?” Rivka prompted. She’d only had one drink that evening, since she had to wake up early to teach the next day. “These elaborate fantasies?”

Miriam was a bit surprised that Rivka was the one to ask. She was the married one in the group, but also the most reserved and the most machmir about most things. Miriam couldn’t recall ever hearing Rivka talk about anything remotely sexual before.

She shrugged. “I dream about his hands mostly.” She wasn’t sure why she shared this, except that it was the truth and of all the people to talk to about this, she could talk to these friends. They would get it.

“You have dreams about his hands? What are they doing exactly?” Sarah asked, her eyes mischievous as she took another sip of her wine.

“I’m just holding them.”

“You guys are just holding hands? Like this?” Aliza picked up Rivka’s hand to demonstrate.

Miriam looked at their clasped hands, both women’s fingers overlapping each other, and she smiled. “Yup.”

Sometimes, if she really focused, she could almost feel the ghost of Ben’s hand in hers. She’d watched his hands playing guitar and chopping food in the kitchen enough times to have an idea of their size and shape. She could imagine the pressure of his hand in hers, but it was never anything more than a dream, a phantom of a person, when she blinked her eyes and her fingers curled on nothing.

“You have sex dreams about holding your boyfriend’s hands…which has got to be the least sexual thing you could possibly do with hands.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“You got it bad, girl,” Aliza shook her head.

“Well aware of that too.” Miriam poured herself another glass. Since she was in her own home, she could indulge in another drink. And if this conversation continued, which it seemed likely to do, she felt she would need it.

“Miriam…” Sarah had said slowly. “Are you getting everything you need in your relationship with Ben?”

That night Miriam had said yes. And even now as she put her skirt back on over her leggings and she, Sarah, and Aliza left the Aerialist Artists Studio on her birthday, she would still say yes.

She loved Ben. And she knew he loved her too. Exchanging the words had been the most natural thing. In all her past relationships, Miriam had never felt the same certainty and excitement at being with someone that she did with Ben. In the most important and essential things, she had everything she needed and wanted. That didn’t make it any less difficult, missing—aching—for the something she didn’t have with Ben. At least, not yet. They had discussed things like marriage and next steps, but only in the abstract. Their one-year anniversary was still a few months away.

Sarah and Aliza were skeptical of Miriam’s certainty that evening, gently pressing her to be completely honest, while Rivka defended Miriam’s position. She and Aaron had been shomer negiah before their wedding as well. Rivka declared that her marriage was better by having them wait and want each other, separately in their own selves while being together in a relationship.

Miriam did not need that, her decision to go along with Ben’s practice was far more simple: she respected him. She appreciated his integrity, honesty, and boundaries, though learning his reasons for keeping this mitzvah when so many, including herself, didn’t, certainly helped her keep perspective.

She had been dating other people when she’d moved to the city and met Ben. It had meant they were friends for a while before she was finally single again, and Ben asked her out. She knew he was shomer negiah when she said yes to the first date and felt wary. She’d liked being held and kissed by her exes, even platonically hugged and touched by dance partners and male friends. Before they decided to become an official couple, they sat down to have a serious discussion about shomer negiah and what it would mean for their relationship.

Like many others, even Miriam herself, in middle school and high school, Ben had been shomer negiah by default, the product of being in a modern Orthodox school and community, where touching the opposite sex, even platonically, just wasn’t really done. During his year learning in Israel, the same default had applied, though he knew that some of his friends were hooking up left, right, and center. It wasn’t until freshman year of college that he’d had his first relationship with a girl from Hillel. The relationship was physical, though he drew the line at not having sex and some sex acts before that. The girl agreed, though looking back on it, Ben could see how begrudging she’d been about it. She acted like everything he was willing to do, she was entitled to whenever she wanted. That those things were owed to her since she couldn’t get anything more from him. It wasn’t until Consent Week on campus, when students went around loudly asking for permission from anyone before invading their physical space in any way, that made Ben think about his relationship, even while he and his friends complained about the people asking permission to shake hands and pass saltshakers. He decided to talk with her about it. It wasn’t his intent, but the conversation blew up the relationship. Ben had taken on being shomer negiah ever since.

“Perhaps it’s a cop-out, an easy way to avoid the issue again, for a while at least,” Ben had said. Miriam could hear Ben’s voice in her memory telling her, “But it’s also made some things more clear-cut for me. Made sure I’m doing things for the right reasons.”

After their conversation, Miriam had gone home to think. Ben wanted to give her space to come to her own decisions about what would be best for her. After her initial surprise at Ben’s story, Miriam’s overwhelming feeling was an urge to track down Ben’s ex and cut a bitch. Out of jealousy, Miriam was willing to admit to herself, because this woman had gotten to experience something with Ben that she wouldn’t get to, for a while at least, but mostly in punishment for having hurt someone she cared about.

She texted Ben the following day to set up their next date.

*

Miriam never told her friends Ben’s reasons. They weren’t hers to share. Though as the bottles finally emptied and the others prepared to go home, Sarah and her engagement having been sufficiently celebrated, Miriam almost wished she could confide that there was more to Ben’s choice than just the mitzvah.

Then again, the mitzvah should have been enough of a reason on its own. And she knew it. But still there were moments when she found it impossibly hard to mean it. In the secret part of her heart, there were times that she resented Ben’s integrity, honesty, and reasons.

Walking to the restaurant where they would meet the others for her birthday dinner, Miriam allowed herself a rare moment of bitterness, resentment, and yearning.

She wanted him. Was that really so bad?

But when the trio rounded the corner and she saw Ben waiting outside the restaurant with the others, his smile widening at the sight of her, all that faded to the background, receding to its secret, quiet corner. It was drowned out by her heart’s pounding at just seeing the person she loved so much.

“How was the class?” Elliot asked as the three women approached.

Sarah stepped next to him and took his hand. “It was a lot of fun. I was absolute crap, but I’m really glad I did it.”

“I’m sure you were better than you think,” Elliot said lovingly.

“The only one who wasn’t crap at it was Miriam,” Aliza said, as she hugged Rivka. “No surprise there.” She waved to the men, who each returned the greeting.

“I guess not. Happy birthday, Miriam!” Rivka stepped forward with a hug. Aaron also wished her happy birthday, but he did not step forward with arms outstretched, since those gestures were reserved for his wife.

“Yeah, happy birthday!” Elliot also gave her a hug, which Miriam returned. It felt good to be hugged by a guy, even platonically, it was such a rare occurrence. Elliot had been a friend for years now.

Miriam thanked them all. She was particularly hungry, the pole dancing having been more of a workout than she had expected. Ben held the door open as they filed inside, Rivka telling Sarah about an irreverent podcaster she’d started listening to who was learning Daf Yomi and analyzing it in a modern, hilarious way.

“Miriam,” Ben said as the door closed behind them, stopping her from following the others to their table. She turned to face him and felt her insides warm and melt as he smiled just at her, as if there was nothing and no one else in the world. “Happy birthday.”

She smiled back at him. She could see in his eyes the same yearning, the wanting, that she knew sometimes shown in hers when she looked at him. And for now, knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him, would be enough.

A tingling sensation swirled in her hands, the itch to touch something. It reminded her of the moments before she connected with the warm hands of her past dance partners, the instant before her hand had gripped the cold metal of the pole that day—the breath before connection.

She pulled her arms behind her, out of danger of reaching for him, and brought her hands together. Her fingers interlaced and held tight.