“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.

Frieda left the door to the den open, and enjoyed watching the arrivals and departures. Olympia was bringing in kosher food for her, and Charlie helped her pick it up, and serve it to Frieda on separate dishes on trays. She had been extremely reasonable about not being quite as rigid about it as normal. She knew how complicated it was for Olympia to worry about that, too. And she was sure God would forgive her as long as she didn't eat cream sauces on her meat, or eat lobster or shrimp. Olympia was fastidious and mindful of what she served. And as predicted, Charlie was a godsend for her. He helped her with whatever he could.

On Thursday night, they celebrated Chanukah. Olympia lit the candles, as Frieda said the prayers with her. They exchanged gifts, as they would every night for eight days. Olympia was happy to have Frieda staying at the house with them. It made the whole family seem closer. And the religious holiday provided a sane distraction from the ball, at least for one night.

Ginny was excited that Steve was coming to town on Friday night, and Veronica continued to promise her mother that Jeff was totally suitable and wouldn't spike his hair. He wasn't due to arrive until Saturday morning, which seemed tight to Olympia, but he had something to do in Providence on Friday night, and Veronica said it was the best he could do. There was no point arguing with her. With the coming-out ball only days away, she was in a rotten mood.

It occurred to Olympia late Thursday night that although Veronica swore she had them, she had never seen her white satin evening shoes. She decided to check in her closet to make sure that they were in fact there. If not, she'd have to buy her a pair. Or Veronica was likely to do something crazy, like wear sneakers or red shoes. She let herself into the room as Veronica came out of the shower towel-drying her hair with her back to her mother. Olympia stopped in her tracks and stared at her in horror. Right in the center of her back was a giant tattoo. It was a huge multicolored butterfly with a wingspread the size of a dinner plate. Without even realizing it, Olympia screamed, and Veronica jumped about a foot, and wheeled around. She hadn't heard her mother come in.

“Oh my God! What is that? “ She knew perfectly well what it was. She just couldn't believe that Veronica had done that to herself. It was huge. Olympia burst into tears.

“Come on, Mom… please… I'm sorry…I was going to tell you about it… I've always wanted to do it…I love it… you'll get used to it….” Veronica looked panicked. The one thing her mother had always forbidden them was piercings or tattoos. She had let them pierce their ears, but anywhere else was taboo. And tattoos were beyond the pale.

“I can't believe you did that!” Olympia said, sitting on the edge of Veronica's bed. She was feeling faint. Her baby's body had been desecrated. She couldn't even imagine Veronica living with that for the rest of her life. It was obscene. She wanted her to have it removed, but she knew that if she suggested it, her daughter would refuse. “You look like you just got out of prison.”

“Everyone has them at school. I'm eighteen, Mom. I have a right to do what I want with my own body.”

“Do you have any idea what that looks like, or what it will look like when you're fifty? Are you nuts?” And then she looked utterly panicked. “Did Ginny get one, too?” Veronica looked embarrassed as she sat down on the bed next to her mother and put her arms around her.

“I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to upset you. I've wanted one for years.” Olympia knew that was true, but she thought she had convinced her otherwise. It never occurred to her that Veronica would defy her and get a tattoo the minute she went away to school.

“Why couldn't you get one on your bottom, where no one would see it? Do you have any idea how that looks?”

“Mom, I love it… honestly… it's me…”

And then Olympia had another thought. Veronica's debut dress was backless and plunged nearly to her waist. “We have to get you a new dress.”

“No, we don't,” Veronica said calmly. “I like the one I have.” It was the first time she had admitted that, but there was no way Olympia would let her wear that dress now and show off her tattoo. She'd die first.

“I'm not letting you come out at The Arches with that thing on your back.” Ginny walked into the room as she said it, looking for a can of hairspray, saw her mother's devastated expression, and then looked at her twin.

Veronica spoke first. “Mom knows.” Ginny looked uncomfortable to be caught between the two, and started to leave the room.

“You stay right here. If either of you ever gets another one, I'm killing you both. And that goes for Charlie, too.”

“He'd never do it,” Veronica reassured her. “He's too afraid to piss you off. So is Ginny.”

“What makes you so brave?” Olympia asked miserably, blowing her nose in a tissue. She felt as though someone had died, although she knew it was only a tattoo.

“I figured you'd forgive me,” Veronica said with a sheepish smile, and hugged her again, as her mother wiped her eyes.

“Don't be so sure. And we have to do something about the dress. I came in here to look for your shoes.” They had shared such a wonderful Chanukah only hours before, and now there was this, to spoil it all for her.

“I can't find my shoes,” Veronica admitted blithely. “I think I gave them away.”

“Great.” It was nothing now compared to what she had done to her body. “I'll get you a pair tomorrow.” She was taking the day off, as she always did on Friday. She had a million things to do. She still had to get a wheelchair for Frieda from a medical supply store. She had to pick Frieda's dress up at her apartment, and now get Veronica a pair of shoes. But all she could think of as she sat there was the butterfly tattoo. “How am I supposed to find you a dress in one day?”

“I'll wear a sweater over it,” Veronica volunteered as Olympia started to cry again. This was too much for her already frayed nerves. Frieda's accident, Max's chicken pox, Harry's stubbornness, the cold she had had all week, and now the horror of the tattoo.

“You can't wear a sweater over an evening dress. Maybe I can find you a white satin stole somewhere. If I can't, we're screwed.”

“Come on, Mom, no one's going to get upset about it.”

“The hell they're not, and I already am. You can at least indulge me, for chrissake,” Olympia said, heartbroken and furious all at the same time.

“I am,” Veronica reminded her. “I'm coming out, aren't I? You know I didn't want to. So give me a break.”

“I am. I just didn't know you'd break my heart in exchange. Was this your revenge for making you come out? The iron butterfly?”

“No, Mom,” Veronica said, looking unhappy. “I got it the first week of school, as a symbol of my independence and flying free. My metamorphosis into being an adult.”