Wedding in Great Neck (9781101607701) (28 page)

Lenore waited, and when she began to speak again, she made sure her voice was very soft and very low. “How did you know to look for the ring out there? Had you seen Angelica—or someone else—drop it?”

“No!” Justine burst out. “I took it—that’s how I knew. I took it, but I don’t know why—I really, really don’t! I was just up there in her room, and I was looking around. I saw the ring, and it made me angry. So I took it.”

“You took it,” Lenore repeated. “And then what did you do with it?”

“I tried to give it back! Honestly, I did! Look,” she wailed, “it’s right here!” She dug her hand into her pocket and pulled it out.

“The ring,” Lenore said, marveling. “So you had it all along.”

“For a little while I thought it was missing. That’s why I was looking in the grass. But it had slipped through a hole in the pocket of my robe, and it was stuck in the lining.”

Lenore nodded. “And that business about Bobby—you made that up, right? He was never in that room, and you knew it.”

Justine nodded miserably. “I didn’t want those poor maids to get blamed; I figured he could deal with it.”

“You got that right,” Lenore said. But when Justine looked confused, she added, “Never mind.”

“Aren’t you going to take the ring, Grandma L.?” asked Justine, who was still clutching it. “I don’t want it. It doesn’t belong to me. And I despise diamonds.”

“I think you need to give it back,” Lenore said gently. “It belongs to Angelica and should be returned to Angelica.”

“I know!” said Justine. “How could I forget? How could anyone? She talks about it all the time!”

“You sound so angry,” Lenore said. “And earlier you said that you were angry. Angry at what?”

“I don’t know, Grandma L.! I honestly don’t know. I get into these moods—I can’t explain them really; I just know they come over me, and when they do, I can’t help myself. I call that mood the mean greens.”

“The mean greens,” Lenore mused softly. “What are they like?” She wondered whether Justine had been in the grip of one of her “moods” when she allowed someone to desecrate her face in that horrible manner: the metal things in her eyebrow and nostril, the series of piercings that went all the way up both of her ears, each hole filled by a stud, loop, or, in one case, safety pin.

“Terrible. Like I said: I get angry, and I want to hurt
someone or something. Not”—she looked alarmed—“not really hurt, you know? It’s not like I want to hit anyone or cause pain or anything like that. But when I get into that mood, I want to—Oh, I don’t know. Break something. Wreck something. Steal something.”

“Something like Angelica’s engagement ring?”

Justine nodded. “As soon as I did it, I was sorry, and I wanted to put it back. But then she came into the room. And every time I tried to put it back after that, there was some reason I couldn’t. Someone was in the room, or I got distracted. You won’t tell her, will you?” she pleaded.

“No,” Lenore said. “But you should. Must.”

“Why? After today she’ll never want to speak to me again.”

“Are you sure?” asked Lenore. The sounds of the cars from downstairs continued along with the accompanying sounds of greetings exchanged, muffled shrieks of recognition, of happiness.

“I mean, do
you
think she’ll want to talk to me? After what I’ve said about Ohad? And what I’ve done?”

Before Lenore could answer, there was a knock on the door. “Ma?” said Betsy from the other side. “Ma, are you okay in there?” Lenore limped over to open it.

There stood Betsy, fully dressed and looking so mother-of-the-bride pretty in her shirred lilac silk dress, her amethyst earrings, her ivory pumps with the kitten heels. But the bra—the bra was all wrong! “I’m fine,” Lenore said. “Justine and I are having a little talk. You can go ahead without me. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

“Are you sure?” She seemed to want to come in, but Lenore was blocking the way.

“Yes.” Then Lenore leaned in closer to her daughter. “Your bra, darling. It’s not doing a thing for your profile. Don’t you have something with a little more uplift? And smoother, definitely smoother! If you had told me, I could have brought you something from the shop. We just got in a new Wacoal, and it is a
dream
.”

“Ma!” said Betsy. “There is
nothing
wrong with my bra.” Though she did cast a swift glance downwards at her chest. “I’m going to join the guests now. Please ask Justine to walk you down as soon as you can.” She huffed off, and Lenore closed the door behind her.

“You are really into bras, Grandma L.,” said Justine, who was actually smiling full out.

“Yes,” she said. “I am.” Lenore took the opportunity to sit on the bed, though not too close. “You were asking me about Angelica. Whether I thought she would ever speak to you again.”

“Oh yeah…” said Justine, and the smile shrank until it was gone.

“The ring isn’t why you don’t want to attend the wedding, is it?” Lenore coaxed. When Justine shook her head, Lenore continued. “Something else is bothering you. Can you tell me what it is?”

“Oh, Grandma L., I want to! I really do! But I don’t know how to explain what happened. Not to you, not to anyone. Not even to myself.”

“Just try,” Lenore coaxed.

“It’s Ohad!” Justine said with a wail. “I hate him! But I kind of love him too.”

“Let’s start with the hate,” Lenore said, inching a little closer to Justine. “He seems like such a nice young man. Smart, handsome, brave. Why would you hate him?”

“Brave! Grandma L., he was a
pilot
in the Israeli
air force.
That means he bombed people. And not just troops, either.
Civilians
. Destroyed their homes, their farms, whatever. He
killed
them.”

“How do you know?” Lenore countered. “How do you know what he did?” And when Justine didn’t answer right away, she pressed on. “So he was in the air force. You don’t know what he did and why he did it. Besides, he’s not in the air force anymore. He’s all done with that. Now he’s part of an initiative that is going to bring better health care to Palestinians, especially Palestinian women. Improved childbirth procedures. Routine gynecological care, like Pap smears and mammograms. Education and preventive medicine too.” Lenore ticked off items on the list that Angelica had shared with her. “That’s how he and Angelica met, you know. They were at a conference together in Jerusalem.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Justine said. “He still did what he did.”

“The details of which you don’t exactly know.”

“But I can guess. And all that do-good stuff now doesn’t change it.”

“No, the present doesn’t change the past, but it puts it into context. Ohad is a complex person. Like me. Like you. And Israel—Israel is a
complicated
nation. What’s happening there now is a horror. But the problems won’t be
easily solved and certainly not by hating Ohad.” Lenore took Justine’s silence as permission to move a little closer. “Now tell me about the love,” she said gently.

“That’s the worst part,” said Justine. “He’s so hot! And he’s so nice too. I mean, you can really talk to him. He listens, you know? And not too many people do that.”

“No,” Lenore agreed. “They don’t.”

“But you do, Grandma L. And he does too.” The girl looked so wretched; why? Lenore was not following the snarled thread of her emotions.

“Is that a bad thing?” she ventured.

“I didn’t just talk to him,” said Justine. “I kissed him!”

“Oh,” Lenore said. She was very glad she was sitting down, because this was not good news, not good at all. “Oh.”

“It was like I told you before: I suddenly felt overcome by this—this—this mood. And so I just did it.”

“The mean greens?” asked Lenore.

Justine shook her head. “No, it was something different. I hadn’t really felt anything like it before.”

“I see,” Lenore said. “And what did Ohad do when you kissed him?”

“Nothing! He didn’t even act like it was weird. He just said, ‘Take it easy,’ like he was calming a horse or something. I was
so
embarrassed. That’s when I decided to leave, to go back to New York and skip the wedding.”

“So you borrowed Grandma Betsy’s car.”

“Uh-huh. And then the police picked me up, and, well, you know the rest.” Justine, who had been sitting up all this time, suddenly flopped back on the bed and pulled one of the
big, soft down pillows over her face. “I wish I could stay here forever,” she said, voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

Lenore was framing a reply when she was once again distracted by a sound at the door. It wasn’t a knock though. So what was it? She hobbled over to find out. There in the hallway sat Betsy’s little dog.

“What are you doing here?” said Lenore. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble for one day?”

“Hasn’t who caused enough trouble for one day?” Justine put the pillow aside and sat up. “Oh—that’s Grandma Betsy’s dog. She’s such a pain.”

“She certainly is.” But the dog was not a bother at the moment; she was not even barking. She simply sat there, holding Lenore’s gaze with her own. Her black eyes were steady and unblinking.

“I suppose you better come in,” Lenore said, and she picked up the dog. The animal’s fur—now dry, and as fluffy as Lenore’s own hair—was very soft, and the heft of her small body was, Lenore had to admit, quite comforting. And when she put her head against Lenore’s collarbone and looked up at her, some small, unseen gear in Lenore’s heart shifted; she suddenly understood the thrall that this creature, irritating as she could be, held over Betsy. It was that quality of surrender, she decided, the trust that the animal so freely bestowed. “Who’s a cute little doggy, hmm?” she said in a low, gurgling tone.

“Grandma Lenore!” said Justine. “You sound like Grandma Betsy!”

“Oh—there she is!” Gretchen appeared in the open
doorway. “Here, let me take her,” she said, holding out her arms. “She must have slipped away. Mom asked me to find her.”

“She seems much calmer,” Lenore observed, handing over the dog. Her arms, she realized, felt momentarily bereft without their small burden.

“That’s because she’s been given a tranquilizer.”

“Ah,” said Lenore. She looked Gretchen up and down. “You look lovely, dear. That black dress is so becoming on you.” She continued her scrutiny, adding, “And it looks like you’re wearing the perfect bra! Is it a Lily of France? Or maybe a Maidenform?”

“I don’t remember, Grandma. I’m lucky it’s clean; that’s about all I can aim for these days.” She looked beyond Lenore to her daughter, sitting on the bed. “Hi, honey,” she said tentatively.

“Don’t ask me if I’m coming to the wedding!” Justine said, yanking the pillow back over her face. “Don’t ask me anything!”

“I’ve got things under control up here,” Lenore said. “You go on ahead.”

Gretchen looked at Justine’s pillow-covered face but directed her next words to her grandmother. “The guests are all arriving. I saw several of your friends. Celia. Claire, too. The Blooms just drove up. And the Steins.”

“Celia is here? With her son?” Despite the
meshegas
of the day, she had not forgotten about Mitch.

“I guess so. I don’t really know. Why?”

“Oh, it’s not important now,” Lenore said. “Go, give
them each a kiss for me. Tell them I’ll be down as soon as I can.” She looked at the dog. “Where are you taking her?”

“Back to Mom. At least she’s quiet now. She wrecked my sleep this morning.” Gretchen waited and then said, “Justine?” When there was no reply, she shook her head sadly. Lenore squeezed her shoulder, gave the dog a final pat on her silky head, and closed the door.

“I really should be getting downstairs,” she said to Justine. “All my friends are here.” Justine peeked out from behind the pillow. “You can walk me down and then come right back up. Stay here in my room if you like. You’ll be very cozy. I have all these magazines—” She fanned out her copies of
Vogue
,
Harper’s Bazaar
, and
Elle
. And look at this.” She got up and made her way over to the armoire facing the bed. She slid the door open to reveal a television screen. “Voilà! You can watch a movie if you like. They have every channel known to man.”

“I despise television,” Justine said as she leaned back against the headboard. “Loathe, hate, and despise.”

“I guess I don’t need to give you the remote, then, do I?” Lenore smiled and then limped back over to the bed.

“No remote,” said Justine. “But there is something you can do for me.”

“What’s that?” Lenore asked.

“Give the ring back to Angelica. And tell her I’m sorry.” Justine extended her hand; in the center of her palm the ring continued its indifferent twinkling.

“I think we both know I’m not going to do that,” Lenore said. “And we both know why too.”

“I figured you’d say that,” Justine said. Her fingers closed around the ring again.

“Just promise me this,” Lenore said, moving closer so she could smooth the hair back from Justine’s forehead. To her relief, the girl accepted her caress without flinching. “Don’t run away again, all right? Please? This old ticker of mine can’t take the stress. Whatever it is that’s got you in its grip, well, we’ll find a way to deal with it. We’re your family, Justine. Your mixed-up,
meshugenah
family, but we love you, and we want to help you.”

Justine jumped up, and Lenore’s “ticker” throbbed; oh no, she had said the wrong thing, and the girl
was
going to go running off again. It would be her fault—

“I’ll go,” Justine said.

“Go?” repeated Lenore. “Where?”

“To the wedding, okay? And I’ll even bring the ring with me. If you won’t give it to Angelica, I guess I’d better do it.”

“Justine!” An effervescent elixir of relief and joy coursed through Lenore’s veins. She had done it. Not that she had solved Justine’s problems; she knew that was well beyond her scope. Kissing the bridegroom, mean greens—
oy vey!
But at least Lenore had persuaded her to come down and be part of the gathering, to join the celebration. It was a start.

“I’d better change first,” Justine was saying. “And I’ll even let you do a bra check, Grandma L.”