“So, correlation or causation, Rosen? That’s what I’m still trying to work out”

Illustrated by Esti Saposh

Chapter 1

“SO,Nachum said, “another date, another Dexamol?” My roommate’s voice was only coming from the living room, but the pounding in my head made it sound miles away.

“What’d you say?” I muttered, standing in our dirah kitchen over an open box of painkillers and looking down at the little yellow pill in my hand.

“I’m merely noting a pattern,” Nachum’s voice continued from that same faraway place, “January 29th; February 7th, 15th, 18th, 23rd, and 28th”—he sounded like he was reading off of a list—“March 5th, 8th, and today. You know what those days have in common, don’t you?”

Though my headache was making halos form around our kitchen light, I could still discern the outline of Nachum’s blond head through the doorway; it was bent over a microscope on the cluttered desk in our living room.

“No, Sparks, I don’t. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Nachum didn’t skip a beat: “Those are all days you went on a date, Rosen. They’re also all days you had a headache and had to take Dexamol.”

“So?” The throbbing in my head was so intense now, I felt as though the Pessins’ pre-Pesach shiputznik wasn’t drilling into the walls on the floor above me but directly into my ears.

I dry-swallowed the pill.

“So, is it correlation or causation, Rosen? That’s what I’m still trying to work out. Either way, doesn’t it seem a little disconcerti— I mean, I don’t profess to be a dating expert but—”

We both spoke at the same time:

“That won’t stop you from giving your unsolicited advice anyway,” I said.

“I think you need to talk to someone, Rosen,” said Nachum. “Maybe the rosh yeshivah?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I tried relieving some of the pressure in my head by massaging my temples.