“No. You do not get to do that. Not the ‘hard world’ lecture. I know how hard the world is. I know what it’s like. And I know what you’re like, too.”
“Gideon,” Sylvia said. “I’m frightened for you.” Sylvia appeared to soften. Gideon knew better. Still, he saw an opening and he took it.
“Oh, Mom,” he said. “You’re frightened for an interracial couple?”
He took her hand. She took it back.
“Yes,” she said, regaining her steam. “I’m afraid for an interracial couple.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s been a long time since you marched on Washington. We’ve come a long way. We have a black president, for goodness’ sake.”
“Okay, so we have a black president. Just ask him what that’s been like. Even Oprah said—”
“Yes, I read that article, too,” Gideon interrupted. “‘The level of disrespect experienced by this president—’”
It was Sylvia’s turn to interrupt. “Disrespect is just where it starts. Don’t you know what this means? It means that when the two of you are together, people will say horrible things just because you are white and she is black. It means that my future grandchildren will be hated simply for the color of their skin. It means that my future grandson can be shot down in the middle of the street for no reason other than the fact that he’s wearing a hoodie.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Gideon said.
“That’s the world we live in,” she said.
“So, I shouldn’t be with her because we live in a terrible, racist world?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sylvia said. “You asked me if I was shocked. I told you I was scared. And then I explained the reason why. If you love her, you should be with her. Do you love her, Gideon?”
“Sarah loves Joe,” Gideon said. “I don’t recall ever hearing this attitude as far as Joe is concerned.”
Sylvia regarded her son. He’d come into the kitchen for a fight. He very much wanted a fight. Of that much, Sylvia was sure. He wouldn’t leave, it seemed, until she gave him one.
“Do you know how many Jews died in the Holocaust?” Sylvia asked. She walked toward the kitchen table on tippy toes, careful not to disturb the ice, and sat down. Gideon joined her. He didn’t walk carefully through the ice. He stormed through it, kicking shards of it this way and that, with Chef Michael following closely on his heels, trying to contain the mess.
“What does that have to do with what I just asked you? About Sarah and Joe?” he asked. Sylvia was seated at the head of the table, in the chair she always sat in, and Gideon sat directly to her right, her willing disciple.
“Do you know?” she asked quietly.
“Six million,” Gideon said. And then quickly: “But something like that could never happen today. People wouldn’t allow it. The world is different now.”
“Why?” Sylvia asked. “Because you think people these days are better? Because you think people actually like Jews? For someone so smart, Gideon, you really have your head in the sand.”
“I do not have my head in the sand,” Gideon said. “I resent that. You have no idea what I see on a day-to-day basis.”
“The man I dated before your father asked to see my horns,” Sylvia said. “He was a smart man, a doctor, and he still believed that Jews had horns. I’d find him looking at my head when he thought I couldn’t see. Examining it for evidence.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t believe me.”
“Anyway, things are different now.”
“Are they? Have you spoken to anyone at your base camp recently about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict? I bet their views would surprise you.”
“You haven’t even met the people I work with,” Gideon said. “That’s quite an assumption.”
“You don’t see why being Jewish is important?” Sylvia asked. “As the grandchild of Holocaust survivors, you don’t see why it’s important to be proud to be Jewish, why you should want your children to be Jewish? Why I want my grandchildren to be Jewish?”
“You can be proud to be Jewish and still let your kids be with whoever they want,” Gideon said.
“And if that were to happen, in a few generations, there would be no Jews left,” Sylvia said. “It’s already happening. Conservative synagogues are closing down, they have no membership. No one left to join. Is that what your grandparents escaped Dachau for, do you think?”
“Malika’s Jewish,” Gideon said.
“Yes, she does appear to be,” Sylvia said, cupping Gideon’s face in her hand. “Congratulations, Gideon. You’re still the Golden Child.”
Thirty-Six
Alone on her childhood bed, Sarah could hear her mother’s voice in her head, trilling, “They’re not married!” But they were. Sarah and Joe had gotten married six months prior, in a small civil ceremony.
They were tired of not having what they’d wanted since they were teenagers: for Sarah to call Joe her husband, for Joe to call Sarah his wife. For the law to recognize what Joe and Sarah had known their entire lives. That they were meant to be together.
The only people they’d told were Joe’s parents. As time went on, it was harder and harder to keep the secret. (Especially since Sarah’s in-laws weren’t what you would call discreet.) And Sarah felt worse and worse about keeping it from her mother. But whenever she ran the scenario through her head, Sarah always came to the same conclusion: if Sylvia could just accept who Sarah was and the choices she’d made, she never would have had to keep it from her from the start.
Sarah knew that Joe was angry about the way she’d reacted to Gideon bringing home Malika. But what he didn’t understand was that she was dying to let Sylvia know about her marriage. It killed Sarah every time she saw her, every time they spent a holiday or a birthday together, to know that she was keeping something from her mother. Something huge. The most important thing in a girl’s life.
As an only child, there were things Joe just couldn’t understand. Like how with three siblings, there was always an odd man out. Always someone to gang up on. The dynamic always changing—sometimes it was Sarah and Becca against Gideon, other times it was Gideon and Sarah against Becca, and sometimes it was Gideon and Sylvia against Becca and Sarah. But they were never united. If pressed, Sarah couldn’t remember a single time all three siblings had stood together on something.
Sarah would be lying if she said that she hadn’t used it to her advantage over the years. Got together with Becca and Alan to take down Gid and Sylvia, even sided with Gid at times when she knew it would get her her way. Sylvia never took Sarah’s side in things. Not the oldest and not the baby. Just in the middle. Easily forgotten.
When Sarah saw Malika, she hoped that she could team up with Sylvia against her, and that would give her the opening to tell Sylvia about her and Joe. That somehow it would be easier to tell Sylvia about her inappropriate spouse if she was upset about her brother’s even more inappropriate fiancée. But that didn’t pan out. Just another missed opportunity. Another time she could have said something, but didn’t.
“The Seder’s over,” Joe announced as he walked into Sarah’s room without even knocking. He plopped himself next to her on the bed. “Is this where we’re staying for the rest of the night?”
“I had to get out of there.”
“Fine by me,” he said. “We can finish what we started earlier.” And with that, he rolled on top of Sarah.
“Stop it!” she said, and pushed him back.
“Sorry it didn’t work out with the whole black fiancée thing,” he said.
“Yeah, that was a tough break,” Sarah said.
“You can just tell her, you know,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t have to be because your brother has made an even worse life choice than you. You can just tell her because you want to.”
“You weren’t a bad life choice,” Sarah said.
“Well, not in your eyes, no,” he said.
“You were
n’t a bad life choice.”
“I think we should go back downstairs and join the party,” he said.
“Five minutes more,” Sarah said.
“Let’s go now,” he said. “You’ll really like it. They’re back on Henry now.”
Thirty-Seven
“I don’t feel like I have to give in to the man like the rest of you,” Henry said.
“You were so right,” Sarah whispered to Joe. He smiled back. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.”
“Give in to the man?” Gideon repeated back with a laugh. “Is that what you think I do?”
“All I’m saying is I’m happy where my life’s at right now.”
“I’d be happy, too, if I could live off Mommy and Daddy’s dime,” Gideon said to Malika in a stage whisper. She offered an uncomfortable laugh.
“Gideon,” Alan said. “That’s not how we speak to guests in this house.”
“Sorry, Dad,” he said.
Valentina sidled up to Joe and Sarah and opened her eyes wide as if to say: Can you believe this? Joe shrugged in response and Sarah gave her the big open eyes back. No! I can’t!
“Nice of you to join us,” Sylvia said.
“I think that fake potato pancake made me sick,” Sarah said.
“Keep your voice down!” Sylvia chastised.
“No offense,” Sarah called in the direction of the kitchen.
“None taken,” Chef Michael called back.
“I think it’s great if you’re happy where your life is right now,” Gideon said to Henry.
“Thanks,” Henry said. Even though he didn’t have a job and didn’t go to school, Henry was smart enough to know that Gideon didn’t really mean it.
“So what do you do all day?” Valentina asked.
Valentina always said the thing that was on everyone’s mind. She wasn’t asking to be malicious; she was genuinely curious as to what he did all day. She’d worked her entire life, from the time she was fourteen years old, and the thought of sitting around doing nothing had never occurred to her.
“All sorts of stuff,” Henry said. He did not elaborate. “So, what do you do all day?” he asked Joe.
“Me?” Joe asked, laughing. How funny that Henry would try to deflect attention from himself by putting it on Joe. “I run my father’s shop.”
“Your shop,” Alan and Sarah said in unison.
“Yeah, it’s my shop now,” Joe explained. “So, I pretty much do everything. Fix cars, run payroll, hire new guys when we need it. And now I’m trying to expand the business into high-end body work.”
“You own a small business,” the Boyfriend’s father said. “I think that’s wonderful. Small business is the backbone of our country. You should be really proud of yourself for what you do for your community and the economy.”
“We’re all very proud of our Joseph,” Sylvia said, and for a second Sarah thought she must have misheard her. As far as Sarah knew, Sylvia was not, nor has she ever been, proud of Joe. But then she crossed the room and stood next to Joe, putting her hand on his shoulder. “So proud.”
“You should be,” the Boyfriend’s father said. “We all should be. It’s small business that built this country and it’s small business that will save it, too.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Sylvia said. Her hand did not leave Joe’s shoulder. “That’s what I always say.”
It was not what she always said. It was not something she had ever said.
Sarah formulated a plan: she could take advantage of her mother’s showboating for Edmond and announce that she and Joe were married. After all, what could her mother say about it at this point? There she was, standing with her hand on Joe’s shoulder, pretending that she adored him, that she approved of him, that she actually liked him. She would not risk looking like a hypocrite in front of the Rothschilds—she’d have to pretend she was happy. Sarah would deal with the fallout the next day.
“Tell them!” Becca said.
I’m about to! Here goes!
Sarah stood up and walked over to Joe. Surely she should be standing with him when she made such a grand announcement? But then something happened. Henry stood up with an announcement of his own.
“I have an idea for a small business,” he said. The whole room turned to look at him.
“You do?” his father said. “I’d love to hear it. That’s wonderful, son.”
“What is this idea?” his mother asked.
“I actually got the idea the last time I was out in Vegas,” he said. His father furrowed his brow. “There’s nothing guys love more than a good steak. And there are tons of amazing steak houses out there.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in the hospitality business,” his father said, almost under his breath.
“But men also love,” Henry continued, “being entertained. I’d say about ninety percent of the men who go to steak houses later go out to strip clubs that very evening.”
“That does not sound like an accurate statistic,” Joe whispered to Sarah.
“So, I figure,” Henry continued, “why not merge the two? Have a high-end steak house—the sort of place that would put Luger’s to shame—but have strippers there, too? Genius, right? I can’t believe no one’s thought of this before.”
“Like Hooters?” Valentina asked.
“No,” Henry said, barely hiding the repugnance in his voice. “I’m talking about high end. First class all the way. Titanium poles. Costumes by a rotating team of Madison Avenue design houses. Former ballerinas as dancers. We’d start in Vegas, and then launch in the city. Eventually we’ll take it out to L.A. What do you think, Dad?”
The room fell silent. Becca looked like she was about to say something—her mouth opened and shut like a fish—but no sound came out. She stood next to Henry, holding his hand.
“Former ballerinas as dancers?” Ursella asked under her breath.
“Titanium stripper poles does sound like first class all the way,” Joe whispered to Sarah. She tried to contain her laughter. Even though she felt like Henry was a joke, it didn’t seem right to laugh at that moment. It was decidedly unfunny.
“Perhaps we can discuss this later,” Edmond finally said, after what seemed like an eternity.
Henry didn’t say anything back. He seemed to have been rendered speechless. In fact, everyone seemed to have been rendered utterly speechless.
And then, darkness.
Thirty-Eight
“Is everyone all right?” Alan asked as his guests puzzled over what had happened. (Only later would Alan discover that Chef Michael had plugged in so many small appliances that he caused a breaker to shut off.)
The candles on the table gave off an ethereal glow. Everything looked even more beautiful than before. Sarah imagined what Dominic would have said if he were here: “Youse all look even more gorgeous all lit up by candlelight!”
But it was true. The candlelight had a way of bringing out everyone’s best features. Making everyone look softer. Blunting the rough edges.
“Well, that certainly was interesting,” Sarah said to Becca as they searched their father’s study for flashlights.
“That really wasn’t his best idea,” Becca explained. “He shouldn’t have led with that.”
“You’ve heard that plan before?” Sarah asked. She was incredulous that her sister hadn’t broken up with Henry on the spot. His idea was dripping with entitlement and sexism, and classism, too. It was the epitome of everything that was wrong with him. Surely her sister could see that? She found a flashlight in her father’s desk and focused the beam on Becca’s face.
“He has other ideas that are much better,” Becca said, shielding her face from the harsh glare of the flashlight.
“Well, they certainly can’t be worse than that one,” Gideon interrupted. He was holding a humongous flashlight—one of those lanterns that can light up an entire campsite. Sylvia had it stored in the pantry for days like this—they had a tendency to lose power since they were sur
rounded by so many trees—but Sarah had no idea how Gideon could remember something like that after being away from home for so long.
The girls stared blankly at their brother.
“Nobody asked you,” Sarah finally said. She was angry with Gideon. She didn’t know exactly why.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Gideon asked.
“Yeah, nobody asked you,” Becca said. She folded her arms across her chest.
“I flew halfway across the globe to see you two,” Gideon said. “You’d think you’d be happier to see me.”
“I spoke to you four days ago and you didn’t tell me you were engaged,” Sarah said.
“I spoke to you three days ago and you didn’t tell me you were coming home!” Becca said.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Gideon said.
“You wanted to shock Mom,” Becca said.
“What would shock her?” Gideon asked, his eyes narrowing.
“God, are you just so sick of being the perfect child that you have to rebel?” Sarah asked. “Aren’t you too old to rebel at this point?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sarah,” Gideon said. “We can’t all find our inappropriate mates when we’re thirteen years old.”
“You’re only with Malika because she’s inappropriate?” Sarah asked. “Interesting.” Sarah thought it best not to get into it with Gideon on whether or not Joe was, in fact, an inappropriate mate.
“No,” Gideon said carefully. “I’m with Malika because she’s brilliant and beautiful and way too good for me, only she hasn’t figured that out yet. But I did think it would be fun to boggle Mom’s mind a little.”
“So, you are rebelling now,” Sarah said. “Jesus Christ.”
“It’s not rebelling to find someone you love,” Becca said.
“Please don’t tell me you think you love that numskull,” Gideon said.
“He seems like an ass,” Sarah said.
“Hey!” Becca said. “I don’t judge your choices. Don’t judge mine.”
“You judge all of my choices,” Sarah said.
“I love him,” Becca said.
“He’s bringing you down, Becca,” Gideon said. “You need to get away from him.”
The Dinner Party: A Novel Page 10