Coming Out (12 page)

“You can't have everything, I guess,” Olympia said with a sigh. “I love him, too. He stands for the right stuff, and is willing to fight for it to the death. Unfortunately, that includes his ideologies about the ball. I guess you can't have it both ways. He stands for what he believes. At least Chauncey is being decent. He must be sick.”

“If he gives you a hard time on Saturday, I'll kick him in the shins.”

“How's your mom doing?”

“Better than I thought she would. There is something about that generation of women. You've got to hand it to them. They're tough, and have a lot of guts. I'd be a mess. She's happy to be alive.”

“Frieda's like that, too. All she could do last night was apologize for being a burden on us. Once Max feels better and is no longer contagious, at least they can keep each other company. I think he's almost there now. I have to check. I don't want him giving her shingles.”

“That's all you need.” Margaret was impressed by all Olympia was handling. She always did. Kids, work, husband, crises. She somehow managed to juggle it all. It seemed to be the lot of working women. They had to be geniuses in the office, and tireless dynamos at home. As far as Margaret was concerned, it was too many hats to wear at once, which was why she had opted not to have kids. She could handle work and a husband, but four kids like Olympia's, or even one, would have been way more than she could cope with. As she pointed out regularly, she didn't even have pets or plants. Work was more than enough for her. And her husband was a dream. He took care of the house, organized their social life, and cooked for her when she got home. “Let me know if I can do anything to help,” Margaret offered, but Olympia knew she had her hands full with her mother. She was just happy she'd be there Saturday night. With the girls nervous and wound up, Charlie and the other escort to keep track of, Frieda on crutches or in a wheelchair, and a potentially hostile ex-husband to deal with, Olympia was going to be crazed.

In spite of a new case that landed on her at four o'clock, Olympia left her office early, and managed to be home by five. Max was sitting on the couch in the den next to Frieda. She had her leg propped up on a chair, and Charlie was sitting with them, drinking tea, when Olympia walked in.

“Well, this looks like a cozy group. Hi, sweetheart,” she said as she gave her son a big hug to welcome him home. She was visibly happy to have him back, and he looked equally pleased to see her. Max was still covered with calamine, but the doctor had assured them he was no longer contagious, so Frieda was enjoying his company, and had been all afternoon. Charlie had just gotten home, a few hours earlier than planned. “How's everybody feeling?” Olympia asked her patients.

“Better,” Max said with a grin.

“Terrific,” Frieda announced, looking at both her grandsons. “I was going to try and cook dinner for all of you, but Charlie won't let me.” His mother looked at him with thanks and approval.

“I should hope not. We'll order Chinese. It's more fun.” They sat chatting in the den for a while, and an hour later Harry came home. The day had gone well for him, and he was happy to see Charlie, too. The two went out to the kitchen to have a beer, while Olympia went upstairs to change into jeans. Max was happy where he was, with his grandma, watching TV. She was still apologizing for bothering them, but she was obviously enjoying being there with them.

Dinner was festive that night, and afterward everyone went to their own rooms, except Charlie, who hung out with his mother for a while. He looked like he had something on his mind, but when his mother asked him if that was the case, he insisted that he didn't. He just said he was happy to be home with them. He promised to keep Max and his grandmother company the next day, and a little while later he went out with friends. The weather had warmed up slightly that day, and what was left of the snow was turning to slush, and ice at night. Olympia warned him to be careful and remember what had happened to Frieda. Charlie looked at her and smiled, and then left. Sometimes his mother still treated him like he was five.

Between running downstairs to check on Frieda, and putting Max to bed, cleaning up the kitchen, talking to Charlie, and taking a bath finally, Olympia didn't have time to talk to Harry alone until they were in bed that night.

“How did Charlie seem to you?” she asked, looking worried.

“Fine. Why? He seems to be having a great time playing hockey. And I think he's more relaxed about his future plans. He seemed uptight to me over Thanksgiving, but tonight I thought he was more laid-back.”

“I can't put my finger on it. But I think something is still bothering him,” she said with the finely tuned instincts of a mother.

“Did he say something to give you that impression?”

“No. He says he's fine. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I'm convinced something's on his mind.”

“Stop looking for things to worry about,” Harry chided her. “If he's upset, he'll tell you. Charlie's always good about that.” Although he was private with others, he was exceptionally close to her.

“Maybe you're right,” Olympia said, sounding unconvinced, and she mentioned it to Frieda the following day when she got home from work.

“It's funny you said that,” Frieda said, looking pensive. “I can't tell you why, but I had the same impression when he sat here having tea with me yesterday. I can't tell if he's worried or sad. He seems preoccupied. Maybe he's worried about finding a job when he graduates,” she said sensibly. He was a very responsible young man.

“He's seemed that way to me since that friend of his committed suicide last spring. I keep thinking it's that. I know he had counseling for it at school. Maybe it's something else. Or maybe it's nothing. Harry thinks I'm crazy,” she said, sharing a cup of tea with her mother-in-law, which was the only peaceful moment she'd had all day. Frieda always told her she did too much. It was the fate of all working mothers, particularly those who made their living in the law, had a five-year-old at home, a husband, and three kids in college. It was a constant juggling act on the high wire, usually without a net, from morning till night.

“Men never see things like that,” Frieda said, still thinking about Charlie. “It's probably nothing. He's probably just worried about what he'll do after graduation. It's a tough time for most kids. Like it or not, they have to leave the nest and grow up. He'll feel better once he makes his mind up about whether to take the job in California, find a job here, go to divinity school, or go to Oxford. They're all good choices to have, but until he makes a decision, he'll probably be a nervous wreck.” They both agreed that he seemed troubled.

“I think you're right. I remember how scared I was when I left college. I had no family to fall back on. I was terrified, and then I married Chauncey, and I thought I was home free after that. As it turned out, not as home free as I thought.”

“You were too young to get married,” Frieda said with a frown, although she had been younger than that herself when she married Harry's father. But things were different then, they had been through the war, survived the horror of the camps, and had led a different life. During the war, people grew up fast, particularly as she had. Her youth had ended in the concentration camp at Dachau.

“At least I got three great kids out of it,” Olympia said philosophically, and Frieda smiled in response.

“Yes, you did. Charlie's a wonderful boy, and the girls are terrific, too.” And then she looked at her daughter-in-law with a determined expression. “I'm still going to the ball, you know. I don't care what you say, I wouldn't miss it for the world.” Olympia was sorry Harry didn't feel the same way. “Harry said I should stay home with him. I'm still angry at him for not going, but that's his business if he wants to make a fool of himself with his stubborn ideas. I'm going. That's what I told him.” There was a look of determination in her eyes.

Olympia looked at her and smiled. “I was going to try and talk you out of it. But I guess I don't have a chance of that.”

“No, you don't,” Frieda said, looking like an elderly lioness, as she sat on the couch with her leg in a cast, all propped up.

“Why don't I try and rent you a wheelchair?” Olympia said thoughtfully. “Charlie could pick it up tomorrow. That way you won't have to walk.”

“It's embarrassing to go that way,” the older woman admitted. “I hate to look like an invalid. But it makes sense. If you can get one, I'll go. And if you can't, I'll hobble in on crutches.”

“You're a good sport,” Olympia said with admiration. “And a wonderful grandmother.” Frieda loved Olympia's older children just as much as she did Max, and made no difference between them.

“I'm going, if I have to go by ambulance and be carried in on a stretcher by paramedics. Besides, I want to wear my new dress. I've never been to a coming-out party, I'll probably never get another chance, and I'm not going to miss it.” There were tears in her eyes as she said it. This was more than just a party for her. It was about being socially accepted in a way she never had been before. She had spent years of poverty, working in a sweatshop as a seamstress, beside her husband, to put their son through school. Just once before she died, she wanted to feel like Cinderella too, even if her son thought she was foolish. And she wanted to see her granddaughters make their debut. Olympia understood that, and vowed to make it happen for her. It was a dream come true for more than just the girls. It meant a lot to Frieda, too. More than Harry knew.

“We'll make it work, Frieda. I promise.” The only thing Olympia couldn't figure out was who was going to push the wheelchair. She had to be at the hotel at five on Saturday to help the girls dress, and Charlie had to be there with them for rehearsal. There was no one to wheel her into the hotel, except Harry, who refused to go. She was thinking of asking Margaret and her husband to pick her up, if Olympia rented them all a limo. It was the only way to do it.

Olympia asked Harry about the ball cautiously again that night after dinner, and reminded him that with his mother disabled, the logistics of getting her there were going to be a lot harder than they would have been otherwise. She needed someone to help her, and was hoping he'd volunteer so she didn't have to ask him directly.

“I already told her she shouldn't go,” he said, looking annoyed.

“She wants to,” Olympia said calmly, without going into the many reasons she thought it was important to Frieda.

“She's just being stubborn,” he said bluntly.

“So are you.” There was an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before. He was absolutely refusing to help her, and it was beginning to seriously irk her. The least he could do was help his mother get there, since she wanted to so badly. “This means a lot to your mother. Maybe more than just the obvious.” In Chauncey's case, it was about rank snobbism. But Frieda had worked hard all her life, sacrificed much, survived persecution, and come through a long, difficult history to get here. If she wanted to go to a debutante cotillion, for whatever reason, Olympia thought she had a right to; and she was going to do everything she could to support it. Besides, the twins adored their grandmother and wanted her there. She deserved this one special night as much as the girls. It was her night, too. Olympia understood that. Harry didn't. He refused to. His own political point of view was more important to him than the dreams of a young girl, or an old woman. “I think this is really important to her,” Olympia said gently.

“It shouldn't be,” he said firmly. “And even if it is, I am a judge of the court of appeals. I can't endorse a discriminatory event just to please my mother, or my wife, or your daughters. I'm tired of being made to feel like an asshole about it, Ollie. I firmly believe in what I'm doing. I can't be there.”

“I'm sure you wouldn't be the first Jew who has been a guest at The Arches. For all I know, there are even Jewish girls who've come out there.”

“I doubt it. And even if that's true, I still have to take a position on this and stick to it. I don't think Martin Luther King ever went to a ball hosted by the Ku Klux Klan.”

“Do you and Veronica have to boycott everything you don't believe in? I can't even buy groceries when she's home, without worrying about who I'm offending or persecuting. If I buy grapes, it's an affront to Cesar Chavez. If I buy South African goods, I'm disrespecting Nelson Mandela. Hell, half the time if I put on a sweater or a pair of shoes, or eat a piece of fruit in my own kitchen, I'm pissing someone off. It sure makes life complicated, and in this case, I think our family is more important than your goddamn political views. All your mother wants now is to go to a party to watch her stepgranddaughters make their debut, which I'll admit is an archaic tradition, but that's all it is. It's a party, one night in a girl's life that makes her feel special, like a bat mitzvah. You can't suck it up for one night?” She was obviously slowly getting angry about his position, but Harry only looked at her and shook his head. He had heard her and knew it was important to her, and his mother. But he disagreed with them, and wouldn't budge an inch.

“No, I can't.”

“Fine.” She spat the word at him with her eyes blazing. “Then to hell with you, if your principles and political views mean more to you than we do. I think this time you're really missing the point.”

“I know you feel that way,” he said quietly, looking profoundly unhappy. “Principles aren't like a hat you take on and off when it suits you. They're a crown of thorns that you have an obligation to wear no matter what.”

Olympia didn't say another word, and left the room before she got really angry at him, and said something she'd regret. She knew there was going to be no compromise on this one. Harry was truly adamant, and she had lost the war. Like it or not, and fair or not, she was going to be the one who had to suck it up.

Chapter 7

Once the girls
came home from college, every thing in the house was chaos. Their friends came and went, the phone rang constantly. Other girls who were making their debut at The Arches showed up to talk to Ginny, giggle, squeal, and take a peek at her dress. All the girls approved when they saw it. They all agreed it was gorgeous. Veronica holed up in her own room with her friends, none of whom were planning to come out.