Coming Out (14 page)

They were all getting ready to go to bed, when Olympia heard Ginny come in. There were voices in the downstairs hall, outside Frieda's room, the sound of running on the stairs, and then Olympia saw her fly past her open door and heard her sobbing.

“Uh-oh.” She looked at Harry. “Trouble in River City. I'll be back.” She went down the hall to Ginny's room and found her lying on the bed, crying uncontrollably. It took her mother nearly ten minutes to find out what was wrong. Steve had arrived from Providence that night, gone to dinner with her, and told her that he had actually come to New York to tell her it was over. He dumped her, and already had another girlfriend. Ginny was beside herself. She was crazy about him. Olympia couldn't help wondering why he had come to New York to deliver the message in person the night before her big event. He couldn't tell her afterward, or even on the phone? It seemed like a nasty stunt to her, and a devastating one to Ginny. There was little she could say to console her.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart… I'm so sorry…it was a rotten thing to do….” It didn't seem fair to tell hershe'd forget about him and there would be another thousand men in her life, after him. Right now it felt like a mortal blow, and a cruel trick.

“I'm not going tomorrow…,” Ginny said in muffled tones into the mattress. “I can't….I don't care anymore…. I'm not going to come out….I wish I were dead….”

“No, you don't. And you have to come out. This is a special moment in your life. You've been looking forward to it. You can't let this guy spoil it for you. Don't give him that. I know it feels awful right now, but you'll feel better tomorrow night… honest…I know you will.” Her heart was sinking. Why did he have to do that to her now? Couldn't he have waited till Sunday? Didn't the bastard have a conscience? Apparently not. Olympia went on talking to her for an hour, at the end of which Ginny still insisted she wouldn't do it. She was going to stay home the following night with Max and Harry. Veronica would have to come out alone. “I'm not going to let you do that,” Olympia said firmly. “I know you feel awful right now. But tomorrow night you're going to look beautiful on Charlie's arm, you're going to make your bow, and every boy in the room will fall in love with you. Ginny, you have to do this.”

“I can't, Mom,” she said, staring up at the ceiling, and looking as though the world had come to an end, as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Olympia knew it felt awful, but there was no doubt in her mind that there would be life after Steve, the little shit. She wanted to strangle him for inflicting so much pain on her baby. All she could do now was help pick up the pieces.

It was nearly midnight when she got back to her own room. Ginny was miserable but calm again. She had finally stopped crying. And Harry was sound asleep. Olympia lay in bed next to him, closed her eyes, and silently prayed…. Please God, let everyone stay sane tomorrow and behave decently tomorrow night….I can't take any more surprises…. Please God, just for one night…. Thank you, God…. Goodnight. And with that, she fell asleep.

Chapter 8

The next day
, Saturday, the day of the ball, dawned icy cold and brilliantly sunny. It didn't snow, it didn't rain, it was colder than the north pole, but it was a gorgeous day when Olympia woke up with trepidation. All she wanted to do was get through the day, dress the girls, watch them curtsy and come down the stairs, and survive the evening. It didn't seem like a lot to ask, but these days it was beginning to seem like a miracle if no one broke a leg, came down with a rare disease, or had a nervous breakdown. If anyone had one of those, Olympia was planning to be first.

At noon, she had to take the girls to get their hair done. She had an appointment in the same salon at two herself. By four they'd all be finished. She made breakfast for everyone, brought Frieda hers on a tray, and Frieda wished her luck for that night. She asked if there was anything she could do to help, but as far as Olympia knew, everything was in order. Both girls were still asleep. Harry had gone out early to play squash at his club. Max was feeling better. Charlie had spent the night with friends. For the moment, the house was peaceful.

At eleven o'clock, Ginny woke up and came rushing downstairs with a look of panic. She found her mother in Frieda's room, exploded into the room, and announced, “I lost a glove!” One of the long white ones, presumably, that were mandatory to wear. Her mother looked calm.

“No, you didn't. I saw them both yesterday. They were on top of your dresser, with your bag.”

Ginny looked instantly uncomfortable and slightly guilty. “I took them to Debbie's last night, to show her how gorgeous they were, and then everything happened with Steve. I forgot one of them there. She said the dog chewed it to bits last night.”

“Oh for God's sake …” Olympia struggled not to get upset. “When am I supposed to get another pair?… All right, all right… I'll go, now before I take you to the hairdresser. I hope they have another pair in your size.” Frieda watched with enormous admiration as Olympia handled the situation with aplomb. Ten minutes later Olympia was wearing jeans, a ski parka, fur-lined boots, and rushing out of the house. Miraculously, she was back just before noon, with another pair of the required gloves in Ginny's size. Problem solved. Disaster averted. Round one.

They left for the hairdresser at five to twelve, and after she dropped them off, Olympia came back to the house. She fed Max, made Frieda a kosher meal, and had a sandwich waiting for Harry when he came back from playing squash. Ten minutes later Charlie got home, and hovered around his mother. He seemed nervous, and she wondered if he was anxious about that night. She assured him he would be fine. She sat at the table for half an hour with Harry, and they chatted about assorted things. She didn't mention the ball to him. The subject was closed, and would stay that way. She went upstairs to change, and Charlie wandered into her bedroom.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and he nodded, looking distracted. “Something on your mind?” He shook his head and left again. She started to worry about him, but didn't have time. Then Margaret called. Her mother was running a fever after her mastectomy, and might have an infection. Margaret was still coming to the ball that night, but she was going to be late. She had to stay with her mother at the hospital and help her eat dinner. She didn't have time to pick Frieda up. She felt terrible to let Ollie down, but she had no other choice. Her mother was feeling rotten. Olympia said she understood, and stood staring at the phone for a minute, trying to figure it out. She had to be at the hotel with the girls from five o'clock on. Charlie had to be there by four, which left no one to accompany Frieda in the limousine. She had an idea then, and went to discuss it with Harry.

He listened carefully, convinced she was going to try and manipulate him into going with her at the last minute. She had given up all hope of that. All she wanted from him was to get his mother into the limousine, put the wheelchair in with her, and call Olympia on her cell phone the minute they left the house. Olympia would then go down to the lobby and out to the street, meet Frieda in the limousine, put her in the wheelchair, and get her upstairs to dinner before the ball. Olympia made it sound easy. The fact that she'd be dressing two hysterical girls, watching them be photographed, and trying to calm them down, while dressing herself, she didn't mention to her husband.

“Can you do that for me?” she asked after outlining her plan for his mother.

“Of course I can. She's my mother.” Olympia made no comment about his not going with them, nor asked him to join her. All she wanted was for him to get his mother into the limousine and call her. They both knew anyone could do that, and it was the least he could do, whatever his political opinions. He looked slightly embarrassed as he assured his wife he'd take care of it on his end.

“Great. Thanks. 'Bye,” she said, and flew out of the house to get her hair done. Ginny's was done by then. Veronica was getting hers done at the same time as her mother. Ginny got her nails done while they had their hair done. Veronica had had her nails done first. It was orchestrated like the landing of the Allied troops in Normandy on D-day.

At three-thirty Olympia called the house to remind Charlie to leave for the hotel, with his tailcoat, trousers, shirt, white tie, vest, socks, and patent-leather shoes. And the gloves he had to wear. He said he would leave in five minutes. He was ready to go.

Olympia and the girls got home at four-fifteen, perfectly coiffed and beautifully manicured. Harry was playing cards with Max. Charlie had left. And Frieda was having a nap. They gathered up their things, and mother and daughters left for the hotel in good order at four-thirty. They checked into the room Olympia had reserved for them at the hotel where the ball was held. Olympia took a minute to call Harry then. She had scarcely said good-bye to him when she left. She reminded him of what time to put his mother in the limo, and to call her on her cell phone. He said he understood, and sounded very quiet. He promised to wake his mother at six o'clock, and would help her dress. The limousine was coming for her at seven-fifteen. There was a dinner for the girls, their escorts, and their families. The rest of the guests were coming at nine. Rehearsal was at five. It was in the same ballroom as the ball was held. Olympia got the girls downstairs on schedule, at ten to five.

As it so happened, Veronica's escort, Jeff Adams, was walking in, with his tailcoat on a hanger, just as Olympia and the girls appeared at the entrance to the ballroom for rehearsal. Olympia closed her eyes, hoping she was hallucinating. As it turned out, she wasn't. Jeff Adams had bright blue hair. Not dark blue, or midnight blue, which might be mistaken for black in a darkened ballroom. It was somewhere between turquoise and sapphire, and there was no mistaking what color it was, in any light. He looked extremely pleased with himself, and insufferably arrogant as he shook Olympia's hand. Veronica looked at him and laughed. Ginny still looked like a zombie, after Steve's perfidy of the night before. He had told her that even though he was dumping her for another girl, he was “willing” to come to the ball. And much to Olympia's horror, Ginny had told him he could. She said she wanted one last night with him. Thinking about it made Olympia feel sick, but she didn't want to upset Ginny more. He was due to show up at nine with the other guests, since he wasn't her escort. He was going to sit at Olympia's table with their other guests. Olympia was sorely tempted to stab him with a fork. She would have liked the same fate for Jeff, as Veronica congratulated him on the fabulous color of his hair. He handed his tailcoat to Olympia, and asked her to hang on to it for him during rehearsal. She wanted to kill him.

They lined up for rehearsal in four straight lines, two of debutantes, and two of escorts, while members of the ball committee walked between them and inspected them. A somber-looking matron in black slacks and a Chanel jacket stopped directly in front of Jeff, and explained the situation to him in no uncertain terms. After rehearsal he had until nine o'clock that night to return his hair to a normal, human color, whichever one he preferred, whether his own or not, or if he preferred not to change his hair color, Veronica would be provided with another escort for the ball. The head of the committee made it clear to him that it was entirely his choice. He looked somewhat subdued, while Veronica continued to laugh at him. She seemed to find the entire escapade hysterically funny, and her mother was seriously upset at her. Between the recent discovery of the tattoo on her back, and the color of her escort's hair, she seemed to be entering a new phase of her life. It was no longer enough to throw out the grapes her mother bought, now apparently she had to shock everyone and make a spectacle of herself. Olympia was far from pleased.

She mentioned it to her when they went back to their room after rehearsal, to dress.

“Veronica, that wasn't funny. All he did was make the members of the committee mad at him, and you by association.”

“Come on, Mom, don't be so uptight. If we have to do something as dumb as this, we might as well have a sense of humor about it.”

“It wasn't humorous,” Olympia insisted. “It was rude and annoying. Is he going to dye it back?”

“Of course he is. He just did it to be funny.”

“He wasn't.” Olympia looked seriously aggravated, and by then, Ginny was crying again. She had just heard from Steve on her cell phone. He was no longer sure he was coming. He thought it might be too hard for her. Ginny told him between sobs that it would be harder if he didn't. She damn near begged him, while Olympia cringed listening to her, and finally he agreed to come. If Olympia's thoughts of him could have killed him, the infamous Steve would have been dead on the spot. Instead, he was going to be her dinner guest, and break her daughter's heart on one of the most important nights of her life.

At six o'clock the girls put on their dresses, and Olympia stood looking at them with tears in her eyes. The moment was unforgettable. They looked like fairy princesses, and Veronica's stole demurely covered her back.

At seven they met with the photographer, while their mother stayed upstairs to get dressed. Her pantyhose ran the moment she put them on, but fortunately she'd brought a spare pair. Her zipper caught when she put on her dress, but she managed to salvage it somehow. She stopped for a minute, tried to slow down, and caught her breath. Her hair looked fine. She had put her makeup on, and it looked decent with her dress. Her shoes were killing her, but she expected that. Her evening bag was perfect. She put on the pearls that had been her mother's, and the earrings that matched. She looked in the mirror, and everything seemed all right to her. She put lipstick on, put on the matching navy blue stole, just as her cell phone rang. Harry said he had put his mother in the limousine. It was seven-fifteen. And he said Max was feeling better.

“I'll go right down and pick your mother up,” Olympia said, sounding out of breath.

“How's it going?” he asked, seeming concerned. Olympia was obviously a nervous wreck, he could hear it in her voice.