Dara finally comes down to the Pub on Wednesday night, for the first time since I started working here a few months ago, and parks herself at the bar for a chat. We spend a little while catching up - on her wedding plans with Dennis, my Dad and how he's been dating the doctor who treated me in the ER a few years ago, and photos of Jessica's toddler Noah (who's just turned a year old!). We studiously avoid any mention of what happened between Jenny and me, partly because we discussed it to death while it was happening. Truth be told, I'm still considering whether even to blog about it, and we've covered that meta-topic enough, too.

Jake, the tall, blonde bartender who trained me when I started here, wanders down the bar from where he's been serving a bunch of college kids on a break from studying for finals. I introduce him to Dara. "Congratulations, when's the big day?" he asks with a smile as he shakes her hand.

"It's in June. How did you -- " She looks down at her other hand, where her engagement ring is revealed only by a bump in the half-finger of a convertible glove-mitten.

Jake spreads his arms wide. "Dara, I'm a single male bartender in Manhattan. It's my job to divine the relationship status of every woman who drinks in here, if I'm able to do it."

"That's impressive," Dara says. "And if I'd been single, or you thought so, what would you have done?"

Jake shrugs and winks. "We'll never know, will we? Anyway, welcome to the Pub, I hope we see you here often." He returns to the other end of the bar, where patrons await, and Dara watches him as he goes. When she looks back at me, I'm grinning.

"What? I'm allowed to look," she laughs. "In a way I'm kind of glad men are allowed to serve drinks here. I mean, some of the girls you worked with at the Bar were fun, but how about some eye-candy equal time, huh?"

"Vince and Diego the barbacks weren't enough for you?" I pull another Sierra Nevada Pale Ale from the tap for her, and she takes off her glove-esque things.

Dara shrugs. "Vince was taken almost as soon as I knew him, and, well, Diego was a devoted father. I think I might've just known them too well to look at them that way." She pauses to take a drink. "You know, I just thought of something."

"What's that?"

"Your new job at a new place, being single in a new apartment, starting up the blog again, even your father dating - it's kind of like one of those TV shows or movies that reboots. You know, like the new 'Star Trek' movie this past summer. Or that sitcom with Christina Applegate where at first she was a waitress at her father's bar, and then suddenly you were supposed to believe she'd been working in a doctor's office the whole time? They start down a completely new path, with new characters and new situations that never would've happened the first time around, and it's like the first time around never existed."

I think about it for a minute, nodding. "There's only one problem with your analogy."

"What, you don't get to hang out with Zachary Quinto?"

"No - the stuff that happened the first time around really happened, and I don't get to pretend it didn't." I excuse myself briefly to take some orders from a group of men that's just arrived, and I see Dara looking at her hand and fingering her engagement ring.

My father lights the Shamos, and after he uses it to light the one other candle in the menorah, we quietly say the two standard Hannukah blessings followed by the Shehechianu, which is only spoken on the first night. We exhange gifts - a beautiful pendant with aquamarines for me, a necktie for him - and long, warm hugs. Then we sit down at his dining room table, which is conspicuously set for two instead of three - or four.

"Where's the good doctor?" I ask as I spoon out some applesauce and sour cream for my potato pancakes.

Dad smiles. "She's with her father tonight, too. We'll have our own candle-lighting tomorrow, though without the latkes this time. Two nights in a row of deep-fried foods isn't allowed when you're dating a physician, I'm afraid."

"It's not allowed two nights in a row when your tips depend on maintaining a girlish figure, either. Which is why I'm having as much as possible tonight." Dad laughs, and we eat in silence for a few minutes.

"Have you heard at all from Jenny?" I take a deep breath, and Dad apologizes.

"That's okay, Dad. No, not since before Thanksgiving. And I wouldn't be surprised if she never speaks to me again."

"I'm sorry," Dad says for the second time. "And how's the new place working out?"

"Not bad. I like Emily well enough, for as much as I ever see her. I haven't figured out how to get her cat to stop scratching at my door in the morning, though."

"You know, you were welcome to stay here as long as you wanted after..." He stops there.

"It's okay to say it out loud, Dad. After Jenny threw me out. That is what happened. And I know that, but honestly, waiting an hour and a half after closing for the first train of the morning got pretty old pretty fast." I manage to add a smile.

"How is it you're not working tonight? I thought Fridays were great tip nights."

"They are, but I've only been at the Pub for a few months, so I don't have the seniority I used to at the Bar. And I probably would've asked for the night off anyway, or at least for a later shift - I wouldn't have missed your latkes for the world, you haven't made them in five or six years."

"Yeah, I probably won't do it for five or six more, after the mess I made."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Dad, I'll clean it up - it's the least I can do." I take another few pancakes, despite starting to feel full. It's once a year, I remind myself.

My father wipes some applesauce off his moustache, and takes a long swig of his wine. The silence fills the space between us, and I can practically feel him reading my mind, until the tears start forming in my eyes.

"Debra, what happened to Jenny isn't your fault. It just doesn't work that way, no matter what you think you did or said wrong."

I move some pieces of browned potato around my plate. "Daddy, I lost the woman I love, and it wasn't because of anything she did or said wrong. So tell me, when is it going to start feeling like it wasn't my fault?"

"I don't know, honey. I don't know."

I wish I was...


I love this tour and I love my friends. Only 10 more shows to go... so far, they've been some of the most exciting shows we've ever played. 5... 6 years in? I love it.

Can't lie... I can't wait to spend the holidays with my family. I'm really anxious to see what's coming next. After this year. After we spend a month at home... meeting the yearly quota of "normal" time. I don't even care to be off the job anymore. I enjoy the work. As if I can even be called work. I like the distraction. Otherwise I find all this extra time to kill, sitting around on my ass watching the internet. The internet is boring.

I want to get out there and do something. Every day. Even if it's sleeping in. Anything except for sitting in front of a 13" screen. Some people have 17" screens now... hooray for them? So, if you're sitting there reading me. Stop. I'm boring. Go check out something fun.

Hayley