It was nine-thirty by the time she had settled him into bed, and he fell asleep after throwing up two more times. Harry said he was exhausted, and Olympia put their dinner in the fridge, and curled up on the couch next to him in the den. She had changed her own clothes twice, washed her hair, and looked exhausted, as Harry frowned over a mountain of papers he had brought home from the office for the weekend. He looked up at her with a warm smile, happy to see her, and to have a peaceful moment with her after a chaotic night.
“Welcome to real life.” She smiled ruefully at him. “Sorry about dinner.”
“I wasn't hungry anyway. Do you want me to fix you something?” he generously offered. He liked to cook, and was a far more creative chef than she. His specialties were omelets and Thai food, and he was always willing to cook for the family in a pinch, particularly if she was held up at the office during the week, which was rare for her, or in a crisis with the kids, like tonight with Max sick. They had a babysitter who came in for Max on the days she was working, and she and Harry always made an effort to come straight home from the office on those days. But she shook her head. She wasn't hungry either. “Is Max okay?”
“I think so. He ran around like crazy today at soccer, and took a couple of hits in the stomach. Either that or he's got a bug. I hope the others don't get sick.” They were used to it, with four kids in the house, or even three now, flu bugs spread like wildfire, even to them. They had dealt with it for years. It had been a shock to Harry at first, but he had long since gotten used to it.
As it turned out, Max was still sick the next morning, and had a mild fever, which suggested to her that it was the flu, more likely than his exertions at soccer. Olympia went out to rent videos for him, while Harry kept him company, and Max slept for most of the afternoon. The girls were out for most of the weekend, and Ginny stayed over at a friend's. They were in the home stretch, the last few weeks of senior year, and there was lots of fun at hand.
It was Sunday night before everyone was home again. Max felt fine, and everyone was gathered around the kitchen table, while Harry and Veronica played cards with Max, Ginny read a magazine, and Olympia made dinner. She loved their family gatherings, and having them all underfoot while she cooked. It was why they had built a big cozy kitchen. For the first time in two days, she remembered the invitation that had arrived on Friday. She was just taking two chickens out of the oven, as she glanced toward the table, and mentioned it to all of them.
“Girls, you were invited to come out at The Arches,” she said casually, pulling a pan of baked potatoes out of the oven and setting them down on the kitchen counter, as Veronica looked up. She knew what The Arches was, and had already heard several girls at school mention it that week. All the invitations had been mailed, and all those who had been invited to come out knew it by then.
“How stupid,” Veronica said with a look of disgust, as she dealt Max and Harry a fresh hand of cards. They were playing Go Fish, and so far Max had been winning, much to his delight. He loved beating his parents and older siblings at games.
“What did you just say, Mom?” Ginny asked, looking up with interest. They were both striking-looking blue-eyed blondes. Ginny wore her long hair straight, cascading over her shoulders, and was wearing a hint of makeup. Veronica wore hers in a braid, her face was scrubbed, and she had no need to wear makeup while playing cards with her stepfather and brother, or in fact most of the time. Their looks were identical, their styles noticeably different. It always helped identify them, which Harry had found useful over the years. If they had dressed identically and worn their hair the same way, he'd have been in trouble. In fact, without clothes, hairdos, or makeup to give one clues, their mother was the only one who could always tell them apart. Even Max got confused at times, and they teased him about it.
“I said, you were both invited to come out at The Arches in December. The invitation came this week.” Olympia looked pleased for both of them, as she put butter in the baked potatoes, and carved the chicken. She had already made the salad.
“You don't expect us to do that, do you?” Veronica looked up in disapproval, as Olympia nodded, and Virginia smiled from ear to ear.
“How cool, Mom! I was afraid they wouldn't ask us. Everyone at school who's doing it got their invitations earlier this week.” Their father had commented acidly years before that their mother's conversion to Judaism might get them blackballed.
“Yours came on Friday. I forgot to tell you after Max got sick,” Olympia told her.
“When can we go shopping?” Ginny asked predictably, as their mother turned to them with a grin, and Veronica interrupted.
“Shopping? Are you crazy?” Veronica jumped up and stared at her sister with a look of outrage. “Are you telling me you're going to take part in that elitist discriminatory farce? For God's sake, Ginny, get your head out of your movie magazines for five minutes. They're not asking you to be queen for a day, or giving you an award here, they're asking you to discriminate against everyone who isn't a WASP and make a total ass of yourself, in a totally worthless, archaic, sexist tradition.” She was on her feet and her eyes were blazing, as her sister and her mother stared at her in amazement. Olympia had expected her to grumble a little, but not to go completely insane.
“Let's not be too extreme. Nobody asked you to join a fascist movement, Veronica. It's only a coming-out party.”
“What's the difference? Are there African Americans at The Arches? How about Jews? What about Hispanics or Asians? How can you be such a hypocrite, Mom? You're Jewish. You're married to Harry. If you make us do this, it's like a slap in his face.” Veronica was beside herself with righteous indignation, as Virginia looked like she was about to cry.
“No one is slapping Harry's face. This is a perfectly innocuous debutante cotillion, where the two of you wear pretty white dresses, make your bow, and have a good time. And I have no idea who will be coming out with you, or what race they are. I haven't been to a deb ball in years.”
“That's bullshit, Mom. You know this is a strictly WASP event, and all it's meant to do is shut people out. Nobody with a conscience should participate, and I'm not going to. I don't care what you say, or what Ginny does, I'm not going.” Veronica was fighting mad as Virginia burst into tears.
“Calm down,” Olympia said quietly and firmly, slightly unnerved by Veronica's extreme reaction, as Harry watched them all with a puzzled look on his face.
“May I ask what we're all talking about? From what I can gather, the girls have been invited to a meeting sponsored by the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, and Veronica wishes to decline.”
“Exactly,” Veronica said, pacing around the room and fuming, as Ginny looked at her mother in horror.
“Do you mean we can't do it?” Ginny asked with a look of panic. “Mom, don't let her spoil it … everyone is doing it. Two of the girls already got dresses at Saks this weekend!” Ginny was obviously terrified of getting a late start.
“Relax, both of you,” Olympia said, setting dinner down on the table, handing Virginia a tissue and trying to exude a sense of calm she didn't feel. She hadn't expected either girl's reaction to be quite so extreme. “We'll talk about it. This isn't a meeting of the Ku Klux Klan, for God's sake, Veronica. It's a coming-out party. I did it, your grandmothers did it, your great-grandmothers did it. And you'll have fun doing it with your sister.”
“I would rather die !” Veronica shouted at her.
“Mom, I want to do it!” Ginny said, and cried harder, jumping up from the table, too.
“You would!” Veronica shouted at her sister, with tears bulging in her eyes, too. “It's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. It's insulting. It makes us look like snobby racist morons! I'd rather be in a peace march, or digging ditches in Appalachia or Nicaragua, or anywhere, than in a stupid white dress, showing off to a lot of dumb, snobby people who have totally sick political ideas! Mom,” she said, turning to her mother with a steely look in her eyes, “I won't do it! I don't care what
you do to me. I won't. “ And then she turned toward her sister with a look of utterly outraged disgust. “And if you want to, frankly, I think you're sick!” With that, she stormed out of the kitchen, and a few seconds later, they heard her slam the door to her room, as Ginny stood in the middle of the room and sobbed.
“She always does that! You can't let her do this, Mom! She ruins everything !”
“She hasn't ruined everything. You're both overreacting. Why don't we let everyone cool off for a day or two, and talk about it again. She'll calm down. Just leave her alone.”
“She won't calm down,” Ginny said with a look of anguish. “She's a Communist and I hate her!” And with that, Ginny ran out of the room in tears. A moment later they heard the door of her room slam, too, as Harry looked across the table at his wife in amazement and total consternation.
“May I ask what's going on? What are The Arches, for God's sake, and what got into the girls?” Two of their children appeared to have gone insane. Max dug into his baked potato, and calmly shook his head.
“Mom wants them to find husbands,” Max said simply, “and I don't think they want to. Maybe Ginny does, because she likes boys more than Ver does. It sounds to me like Ver doesn't want to get married. Right, Mom?”
“No…yes… no, of course not.” Olympia looked flustered as she sat down and looked at both of them.
“It used to be about finding husbands; it isn't anymore,” she explained to Max again, and then looked at Harry, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. The kitchen suddenly seemed far too warm. The evening had gotten far more heated than she expected. She was visibly upset about both girls. She turned to Harry, and tried to appear calmer than she felt. “The girls have been invited to come out at The Arches. The invitation came on Friday. I thought it would be fun for them. I came out at The Arches, and honestly, Harry, it's no big deal.”
“I'm sorry. I'm in the dark here. The only arches I know about are the ones at McDonald's. Why are we arguing about them coming out of McDonald's? Something tells me I'm missing some major piece of information here.”
“The Arches is a debutante cotillion. It's the oldest and most respected one in the city. In serious social circles, it's a big deal. It was a much bigger deal when I was their age. My mother came out there, and both my grandmothers, and my great-grandmothers. Nowadays, it's just a nice party, and something of an archaic tradition. It's harmless. They wear pretty dresses and waltz with their fathers. Veronica is trying to turn this into a political event. It isn't. It's just a party, for God's sake, and apparently Ginny wants to do it.”
“Can anyone sign up for this event?” Harry inquired with a cautious look.
“No, you have to be invited. The girls were, because they're a legacy,” she said simply.
“Does it exclude people of other races and religions?” Harry then asked her pointedly. This time Olympia hesitated slightly before she answered, as Max managed to eat his baked potato and watch them with interest at the same time. He was dripping butter all over his shirt with total unconcern.
“Probably. It used to. I don't know what their policies are these days.”
“Judging by Veronica's reaction, she seems to know more than you do. If what she says is true, and black, Asian, and Hispanic girls can't do it, then I agree with her. And I assume Jewish girls would be on their hit list, too.”
“Oh for God's sake, Harry. Yes, it's a fancy social thing. People have been doing it for years. It's old-fashioned, it's traditional, it's Waspy, so is the Social Register, so are clubs, for heaven's sake. What about clubs that don't admit women?”
“I don't belong to a single one of them,” he said succinctly. “I'm a judge on the court of appeals, I can't afford to ally myself with any discriminatory organization, and apparently this one is. You know how I feel about things like that. Do you think they would invite our daughter, if we had one, if they knew you are now Jewish?” It was an interesting question, but the girls were not Jewish, and they were descended from two powerful, well-known, aristocratic WASP families. And she and Harry didn't have a daughter. The question was moot for them. She knew without a doubt that Chauncey expected his daughters to come out. He would have been horrified if they didn't. And even though she was far more liberal than her ex-husband or his wife, she still felt it was a harmless tradition. She thought Harry was overreacting, and so were the girls.
“I understand about the discriminatory aspect. This isn't intended to hurt people, just to give some girls a night of fun. It's like being Cinderella. They wear a pretty white dress, and at midnight it's over. Is that so terrible, so wrong? Why is that such a big deal?”
“Because it excludes people. Nazi Germany was founded on principles just like these. This is an Aryan elitist party, the girls being presented, if that's what you call it, are Aryans presumably. Maybe they have a token Jew or two, but the whole concept is wrong, the principles are wrong. Jews have been discriminated against for thousands of years. I don't support upholding that tradition. In order to be politically correct in today's world, everyone should be able to sign up if they want to do it.”
“If that were true, clubs wouldn't exist. Private schools wouldn't exist. Okay, call it a club for WASPs, where their daughters make their debut. I just don't see why this has to be a political issue. Why can't this just be a fun night for the girls and let it go at that?”
“My mother is a Holocaust survivor,” he said ominously. “You know that. And so was my father. Their entire families were wiped out by people who hated Jews. The people who run this party are racists, from what I can gather. That runs counter to everything I stand for and believe in. I want nothing to do with an event like this.” He spoke to her as though she had just painted a swastika on their kitchen wall. He almost recoiled as he spoke to her, and their son watched, looking suddenly upset.
“Harry, please, don't make a big deal out of this. It's a coming-out party, that's all it is.”
“Veronica is right,” he said quietly, and then stood up. He hadn't touched a mouthful of his dinner. Olympia hadn't cut Max's meat, so he was working on his second baked potato. He was hungry. And the grown-ups were confusing. “I don't think the girls should participate in this party,” Harry said firmly, “whether you did it or not. I'm casting my vote with Veronica. And whatever you decide to do about it, don't for a single second expect me to attend.” With that, he threw his napkin on the table and walked out of the room, while Max stared after his father, and then looked at his mother with worried eyes.
“Sounds like the party is a bad idea,” Max said sadly. “Everybody got really mad.”
“Yes, they did,” Olympia said with a sigh, sitting back in her chair and looking at him. “It's just a party, Max, that's all it is.” He was the only one left to explain it to, and he was only five years old.
“Are they going to do bad things to Jews there?” he asked, looking worried. He knew from his grandmother that people called Nazis had done terrible things, although he did not know the details. He knew they had done them to Jews, and he knew that he and his parents were Jewish, as were his grandmother and many of his friends at school.
“Of course they're not going to do bad things to Jews there,” Olympia said, looking horrified. “Daddy was just upset. No one is going to do anything to Jews.”
“That's good,” Max said, looking slightly reassured. “I guess they're not going to go to the party, though, huh? I think Ginny wanted a new dress.”
“Yes, she did. I don't know if they'll do it or not, but I think they should.”
“Even if you can't get husbands for them?” Max asked with interest.
“Even if we can't get husbands for them,” Olympia said, smiling ruefully. “We don't want husbands for them, sweetheart. All we want are a couple of white dresses, and some boys to dance with them.”
“I don't think Dad will go,” Max said, shaking his head, as his mother cut his meat. They were the only two at the table, and Olympia had no desire to eat
. She knew the girls' father would have a fit if they didn't make their debut. Politically, he was at the opposite end of the spectrum from Harry. Her old life and her new, as typified by both husbands, had absolutely nothing in common. She was the bridge between the two.
“I hope Daddy will go,” Olympia said quietly to her son. “It's a fun thing to do.”
“It doesn't sound like fun to me,” Max said, shaking his head solemnly. “I don't think Ginny and Ver should come out,” he said, looking up at his mother with wide eyes. “I think they better stay in.” Given everyone's reactions that night, it was beginning to sound like it to her, too.
Chapter 2
Olympia called her ex-husband from the office the next day, and explained the situation to him. She told him simply that Virginia wanted to come out, Veronica had objected to it, and she said somewhat unhappily that she thought there was a possibility that Veronica would not give in. There had been another explosion over it at breakfast that morning, before they left for school. Veronica was threatening to move in with her stepgrandmother if her mother didn't agree to let her off the hook, and Harry had seconded the idea. He added fuel to the fire by saying that he didn't think either girl should come out, and Ginny had left for school in tears, after saying she hated him. Overnight the family had erupted in civil war. Virginia had called her brother the night before, and although he sympathized with Veronica's objections to the event, he sided with Virginia and Olympia, and said he thought both girls should come out. All their cousins in Newport had, and he knew, as Olympia did, that their father would be upset if they didn't. Harry would be upset if they did. One way or the other, everyone was going to be unhappy about something. Olympia and Harry hadn't even been speaking to each other when they both left for work, which was a rare occurrence for them. They hardly ever fought. But this time, the battle lines had been drawn.
Coming Out Page 3
