The Matzo Ball Heiress (23 page)

Between me and Dad? I look at my father with pleading eyes. We discussed this! What happened to family friend?

Dad seeks out Pieter’s eyes. “Pieter, I think Sukie will feel all alone.”

“Don’t you think Uncle Sol should sit next to his daughter?” Greg says sharply in Pieter’s direction.

Pieter angrily taps the tablecloth like a vexed chimp sick of dancing to an accordion. His eyes dart wildly as he says, “Doesn’t everyone know we are together?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Yes,” Jared says.

“Yes,” Jake says.

“Yes,” Siobhan says.

“Yes,” Greg says.

“Yes,” Amy Hitler says.

“I didn’t know, but I’m cool with it,” says Roswell.

I give Roswell a big smile and mouth, “Thanks.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sukie says.

“They are friends?” Gertie says.

“We’re a couple, Gertie,” Dad says in a heavy but proud voice.

After an extended silence settles, Jared clears his throat and hands everyone a cheat sheet of Passover information. “Okay, people, let’s get this rehearsal going. Steve will be here in less than an hour.”

“My nephew out in San Francisco, he’s in a couple, too.” Gertie says. “Listen to me,
bubelleh
, I’m an old lady.
Vat
makes you happy is
vat
is good.”

“Okay then,” Pieter says after a sigh. It’s out in the open ether, and Pieter obviously feels comfortable enough to give my dad a public kiss on the lips.

Greg grimaces, but Gertie beckons me to her with an arthritic finger. “I knew he was a
fegele
years ago,” she whispers.

“But remember, Pieter,” Jared says, “we are not mentioning that you are a couple on the air. This special, if I correctly understand why Sol’s family is participating, is to raise matzo sales—not gay awareness. The rest of American Jewry may not be as accepting as the Greenblotz family.”

“I just want you both to know that I have no problem with homosexuality,” Greg says.

“Me neither,” Amy Hitler says. “People think we’re very backward in Ohio, but truth is, most of us have nothing against homosexuals, we just don’t see why they have to go around ramming it down everyone’s throats.”

Greg pulls at his fiancée’s hand. “Not the best choice of words, honey.”

Next Year in Jerusalem

F
or almost an hour, Team Greenblotz practices reading from the
Haggadah
at the long rented table covered in white linen. We memorize Passover trivia and go over the items Dad will point to on the seder plate. Only the loud sound of a truck pulling up outside Jake and Siobhan’s house breaks our concentration.

“Steve and the crew are here,” Jared announces. He races around the room to collect any damning evidence of his meddling; he quickly stuffs the seder fact sheets and Siobhan’s flash cards into his knapsack.

“You forgot one of the flash cards,” Sukie says as she turns it over to read: “In the Sephardic Jewish culture, families sometimes hit each other with spring onions at the seder table.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” Siobhan admits. “I was just copying sentences.”

“Where’s Roswell?” Jake asks. “Steve’s going to need him.”

Come to think of it, we haven’t seen Roswell since we picked up the
Haggadahs
for Jared to go over with us. I shrug. “I told him he didn’t have to rehearse since he was going to be working off air with Steve, and he took off.”

“Maybe he’s downstairs in the study,” Jake says. “I told him we have a vintage 1980s pinball machine down there and his eyes lit up.”

There’s a knock, and before I can bother to look for my insubordinate intern Greg has opened the door and let Steve in. I know Steve will be on air during the special to introduce my family, but damn him for looking dazzling again. Behind Steve comes blond Tonia, whom I haven’t seen since the matzo shoot. We throw each other lackluster smiles, and she gets right down to work unsnapping her sound cases. Tonia looks new-century chic in the film and television world’s working girl’s latest
shoot
uniform: a girls’ department tee, black and tight around the chest, and tight black jeans with frayed cuffs. Greg may be engaged to Miss Hitler but he eyes Tonia like a fresh piece of meat.

His fiancée’s nostrils flare.

“Jared should be here any minute,” Steve says.

“Nope,” Jared booms from the back of the room. “Already here. Had a good run with traffic. I arrived fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve glances at me and then Jared with considerable suspicion. “Maybe you took a different route, because we had a traffic nightmare.”

“Maybe. Anyhow, I set the lights up already. I clipped the keylight onto the tree, but the room has good lighting to begin with. There’s a dimmer switch.”

Steve glimpses around the room with a puzzled look on his face. “And the whole family’s already seated, look at that. Everyone raring to go?”

I stand to greet him with a nervous handshake. “We are.” Although Steve covertly tickles the inside of my palm before he lets go of it, I keep a neutral face.

“Well, who are all the Greenblotzes we have in this room? In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m Steve Meyers and I will be introducing you all on air. I truly appreciate that you are letting us share your beloved family holiday.”

Was that Siobhan who coughed in amusement, or Jake? “I’ll start the introductions with my cousin Jake,” I say. “He’s the one I was substituting for the day you did the factory interview.”

“You’re the man who runs the show?” Steve says to Jake.

“Yes,” Jake says. My father gets a funny look on his face. “With my uncle Sol heading our overseas operation,” Jake adds hastily.

“He’s here today?” Steve asks. “Your dad?”

“Yes,” I say, leading Steve by his elbow over to Dad. “Steve Meyers, this is my father, Sol Greenblotz, who’s, um, been heading our operations overseas, based out of Amsterdam.”

“There are that many Jews in Amsterdam?” Steve asks after a friendly smile.

“There’s a healthy population,” Dad says just as congenially. “And it’s a good European base—it’s easy to get anywhere from there.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir. You have an amazing daughter. Beautiful and smart as a whip.”

What a mouthful of malarkey. Just get your damn career-boosting show on the air.

“From the day Heather was born, she was a blessing,” Dad says with a hint of a contrived old-world accent, Tevye talking up his daughters in
Fiddler on the Roof.

“With her talent,” Steve says, “she’s going to win an Oscar to put next to those Emmys.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he says.

Jake sneaks an amused look at me. Farther down the table, Pieter looks as if he is seconds from bursting into laughter.

Steve starts to ask a question, but before he can even get a word out, Dad jumps in with “My wife and I are separated, but we are still friends. I’m afraid she’s visiting her family seder this year.”

Steve shoots him a peculiar, knowing look and I pick up the pace of the introductions. “And this is my cousin Greg Greenblotz from Miami, Florida—”

“I’m his fiancée,” Amy Hitler says.

The plan was to say you’re married, you Aryan bubblehead!

“She’s my wife,” Greg says nervously. He tries to fix the damage: “We had a municipal ceremony last week but we haven’t announced it to the public. So Amy is a Greenblotz, but she’d prefer to just go by Greg’s fiancée on air, no last name, please, on air, for um, security purposes. She had a stalker once.”

Steve looks confused. After that garble, I’m confused too. “Greg’s fiancée or wife, what was your maiden name?” Steve asks.

My father coughs loudly but Amy answers Steve anyway. “Hitlerstein.”

“Pardon?” Steve says.

“Hisstein,” Greg says quickly. “Amy Hisstein. Amy has a bit of a speech impediment.”

Steve laughs loudly. “Good God. For a second there I thought she said Hitler.”

While Steve talks to cutie Sukie in his The Boy Can’t Help It flirt mode, I hear Greg chide Amy. “What are you doing?”

“In Ohio, most Jews have ‘stein’ on the end of their names—stop looking at me like that, I’m not stupid, Greg.”

“Who’s saying you’re stupid?”

“
You are
. Yesterday, you explained nachos to me. I know what nachos are. We have nachos in Ohio, Greg.”

“And let’s see…” I quickly move on to the remaining introductions when Steve has finished chatting up visibly besotted Sukie. “And here we have Vondra Adams.”

Steve extends a hand. “Heather’s film partner?”

“Yes,” I say. I’m surprised he knew who she was right off. Steve listened to anything I had to say?

My ex-fling smiles at Vondra like a veteran press agent. “You should hear how your pal Heather talks you up. She told me how brilliant you were, but she didn’t mention how stunning you are.” Don’t add to my nausea, Steve. Why do I even care that you’re flirting with all the women in the room? Is this retribution for my stated attraction to Jared?

Just like Sukie, Vondra is seduced. She locks eyes with Steve. “Yeah?” It’s the first time I’ve seen Vondra let Mahmoud slip from her mind since she met him. For a second—even though, according to Vondra, “Mahmoud is one of the most important people in the world”—I feel kind of sorry for this first-class diplomat. You can see by the way Vondra smiles at Steve, it’s not just me. This atheist has
testosterone
.

Vondra regains her senses and introduces a slightly irritated Mahmoud.

“Isn’t Mahmoud an Arabic name?” Steve says. “I thought you might be an Israeli cousin.”

I interject. “Mahmoud is a diplomat with the United Nations. But we have to be careful not to highlight him. He is definitely not from Israel.”

“It’s okay,” Mahmoud says.

“No, honey,” Vondra says. “I’ve been thinking about it. Heather is right. It will be incongruous to see you on air. People will talk. I don’t want you shot.”

Great time for insight, Vondra
.

“I’m getting nervous too, but I think I should go through with it.”

“Why should you be nervous?” Steve asks. “You’re not Palestinian, are you?”

“I’m Egyptian.”

Steve spins around to me with his mouth open. Egypt? he mouths. He hurries me to the corner. “You didn’t tell him about the Egyptian passages in the
Haggadah
?”

“She’s my best friend and she
insisted
,” I hiss to him in a whisper.

Steve thinks on his feet and turns back to Mahmoud. “Sir, I’m going to call my boss. If he clears it, I guess we could make your Egyptian heritage an exciting element. He and I will figure out how to introduce you.”

As Steve calls his superior at the Food Channel on his cell phone, I look around downstairs for Roswell, but I still can’t find him. When Steve is off the phone, he says, “My boss is gung ho. We are going to mention that Mahmoud’s participation here is a nod to hope in the Middle East. Nothing else.”

“No, I’ve made up my mind. Introduce me as who I am. Mahmoud Habib, spokesman for the Egyptian U.N. mission. Sadat was brave. I’m no coward.”

Steve nods his head excitedly. “This will work.”

I still have to introduce Pieter to Steve. I claim he’s a business friend of my father’s from Amsterdam.

“In Jewish tradition,” my father throws in after my introduction of his lover. “It is a
mitzvah
, a good deed, to invite those who are traveling or without a seder. For one night, everyone is
mishpucha—
family.”

“So listen up, gang, I have a little gift for all of you. Tonia, have you seen the bag from the promotional department?”

Tonia grabs a large and stuffed plastic bag with the Food Channel logo off the floor. “I have it here.”

Steve hands each of us a “Spanish Foods Week” castanet and all of the men a Food Channel
yarmulke
. “Put the
yarmulkes
on, of course, but do me a favor and keep the castanets out of camera view when we’re on the air.”

Mahmoud fingers the
yarmulke
, and with his eyes shut he puts it on. My father and I applaud. “You’re a courageous man, Mahmoud,” Dad says.

Steve pipes up, “I’ll have an even bigger surprise for you when I come back.”

As soon as Steve and Tonia are out of the house and in the remote truck, we all start to talk at once, but Jared claps a castanet loudly and addresses the room. “A few hiccups, but you all did well. I can tell Steve is raring to go.”

“What did he mean by a bigger surprise?” Jake says.

“I’m not sure,” Jared says.

When Steve returns, he brings with him the man assigned to send the live feed back to the Food Channel offices from the remote truck. Is this our surprise? Kev is fat, bald and desperately seeking the bathroom.

“Around the corner,” Jake says.

Kev lumbers across the living room. Midway through, he leaves an empty, grease-saturated box of Chicken McNuggets on Siobhan and Jake’s vintage mosaic table. He bounds out of the bathroom after a loud flush, then disappears back outside to his parking spot.

“So by the way, who and where is my intern?” Steve smiles.

Good question. Where the hell is he?

Roswell sneaks up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. “Where were you?” I say sharply.

“Just outside. Hey, you can eat McNuggets on Passover? Cool.”

“Absolutely not,” my nearby father answers for me. “Let’s get rid of that McDonald’s box. The camera might pan the room.”

“What McDonald’s box?” Jared says in a panic.

Dad points. “A gift from your remote guy.”

“Kev is such an idiot,” Jared says in a loud huff to Steve. “If we showed the Greenblotzes with
traif
on their tabletop, there’d be an uproar.”

“I tried to get Freddy for the feed, but he was on vacation.”

“We have plenty of food for the crew if he’s hungry,” Siobhan says. “You can take him a plate of smothered chicken, and we have a number of sides—”

“I’ll tell him,” Steve says. “
After
the broadcast.”

“My father says McNuggets are way better in low-rent areas where the turnover is heavier,” Roswell says. “The ones near our house suck. The batter is orange, dude. That panics him.”

“You must be my intern,” Steve says sharply, glancing over at me for confirmation.

“Steve Meyers,” I say, “this is Roswell Birch.” Steve shakes his hand. Roswell’s pupils are big round circles. I distinctly smell pot on his clothes. As soon as I am through with whatever Steve needs to set up, I am going to kill the little motherfucker. A live national broadcast and he’s outside smoking a joint? Maybe I should ask him to sit the seder out in Kev’s truck.

There is another knock on the door, and Steve smiles. “Is everyone ready for the big surprise?”

“We’re ready,” Jake assures.

Steve opens the door and in walks my mother, entering regally and dressed to the nines.

“Jocelyn,” my father says with a shocked but clearly delighted expression.

Mom looks as good as I’ve ever seen her. Maybe she does believe in plastic surgery, because her face looks much smoother than the last time I saw her. Has she started Botox treatments? Her shape on the other hand, has always been terrific—I got Dad’s propensity to paunch. This new peach silk dress she’s wearing is lovely on her. She’s even had her hair blown out and flat-ironed.

Dad stands up to give her a warm hug. If he hadn’t just come out to me as a gay man in the land of cheese, I’d say he was aroused.

Pieter coughs loudly. I’m assuming Pop Genius is smart enough to keep mum about Pieter’s special role in his life until after the broadcast.

“So what do you have to say to your mother?” Steve asks me with a proud grin.

“I thought you were going to the Amazon,” I say softly.

“An English friend of yours called. She was very emphatic. She convinced me how important this was to you, that you were devastated by my decision to skip the seder. I didn’t realize.”

English? Oh,
Australian
. Bettina called her? How dare she cross that line!

Steve throws in, “Your friend called me too. At the Food Channel. She wanted me to bring your mother along in our car. She is a persuasive woman.”

Bettina called both of them? I’m paying her for this? My family is not a collection of windup toys to have fun with.

Roswell shifts the coil of wires Tonia asked him to hold from one hand to the other. “Heather, does your mother know that your father’s gay lover is here, dude?” He looks directly at Pieter as the words
gay lover
leave his lips.