“Are you out of your mind?” She had no idea what had set him off, except that she'd noticed he'd been drinking. Felicia looked just as mystified as she did, and then Olympia saw him look at the artwork on his daughter's back. “Are you both totally crazy? How could you let this happen?” He was looking over his daughter's head right at Olympia.

“Actually, Chauncey,” she said, looking annoyed but aloof, “she got out of her cell and escaped, despite the handcuffs. Almost like Houdini.”

“You're not amusing. That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. She'll have it surgically removed, or I'm not paying tuition.” Whether or not he paid tuition for them seemed to have become his only form of blackmail and control over her, and recently, his mantra.

“I don't think this is the place to discuss that,” Olympia said with a quelling look. Everyone at the table was watching, and no one had seen what he was talking about, since the others were facing Veronica across the table. She turned to look at him, with open outrage.

“Stop threatening my mother. I'm eighteen years old, and I wanted to do it. She didn't even know I did it till this week.”

“Veronica, you're out of control,” he said in booming tones, which the entire room could hear. “If you're going to disfigure yourself in that way, you belong in prison, with other people who look like you.” Olympia was momentarily terrified that Veronica would tell him to go fuck himself, and cause a bigger scene than they already had. Everyone was riveted by the scene. He wasn't subtle, and thanks to the booze he'd already consumed, he was loud. Even Felicia looked surprised by the fuss he was making.

“I'm not going to discuss this with you, Dad. Why don't you grow up?” Veronica said, standing up and looking him in the eye. “It's a tattoo, not a crime. Why don't you have another drink? I'm sure that will make you feel better,” she said in icy tones, and then walked out of the room. Jeff saw her leave, and followed her out. As she disappeared, everyone at the table got a full view of the tattoo Chauncey was objecting to so loudly. Felicia turned to look and gasped. She assured everyone at the table that none of her own daughters would think of doing a thing like that, and then admitted that her oldest daughter was just thirteen. Olympia knew that a lot was due to change in Felicia's life in the next five years. In spite of one's best efforts, there was only so much one could do to control one's kids.

Olympia didn't like it either, but much to her surprise, she thought Veronica had handled the scene with dignity and decorum, far more so than her father. Charlie glanced down the table at his mother, and a moment later, the conversations around them resumed. It wasn't until after dinner that one of the other mothers came over to talk to Olympia, with a look of sympathetic amusement.

“I know how you feel. My nineteen-year-old came home from UC Santa Cruz with tattooed sleeves. They're the worst thing I've ever seen, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I don't even want to think what that will look like when her arms start sagging. There are worse things they could be doing.” Olympia wasn't sure what those would be, but she was sure she could come up with something, if she thought about it. And she was grateful for the other mother's compassionate reassurance.

“I'm still in shock. I only saw it two days ago for the first time. My mother-in-law made her a stole to go with her dress tonight. I wasn't sure the committee would appreciate the artwork.”

“I'm sure she's not the first girl who's come out with a tattoo. My older daughter's escort showed up with a bull ring in his nose.”

“One of ours showed up tonight with blue hair,” Olympia admitted, and both women laughed at the foibles of youth.

“Things are a lot different than they were in our day. My grandmother had a fit when I wore a strapless gown. I think in her day everyone had to wear little cap sleeves to cover their arms. It's just the way things are today.”

“I guess you're right,” Olympia said, finally calming down. She could see that Chauncey was still fuming when he resumed his seat. He glared across the table at his ex-wife, while Frieda watched him with an anxious frown.

“That's the most outrageous thing I've ever seen,” Chauncey said more quietly this time. By then, Felicia knew what it was about.

“I don't like it either,” Olympia said to Chauncey quietly after he sat down. “She had it done while she was at school. I just discovered it this week.”

“You're far too liberal with that child, with all of them in fact. She'll wind up in jail as a Communist one of these days,” he said, as he ordered another drink.

“They don't put Communists in jail, Chauncey. She's liberal, but she's not totally out of her mind. She just wants to prove she has her own ideas.”

“That's no way to do it,” he said with a look of outraged disapproval. Veronica's tattoo had shocked him to the core.

“No, it isn't. I hate to say it, but I suppose it's harmless. Ugly, but harmless.” Olympia was resigning herself to something she knew she could do nothing about.

“She's disfigured for the rest of her life.” He looked pained, and it was obvious that he blamed Olympia for allowing it to happen. She hadn't, but he blamed her anyway. He always did, and always had.

“She's not disfigured,” her mother defended her. “She's still a lovely girl. It was a foolish thing to do. And if she hates it later on, which I hope she will, she can have it removed.”

“We should force her to,” he said, looking hopeful as he finished his drink.

“No, Chauncey, we shouldn't. She'd just get another one right now. Give it time.” He shook his head, and said something under his breath to his wife, and then seemed to notice Frieda for the first time, and decided to vent his spleen on her.

“I suppose your son has tattoos, too,” he said accusingly. It had to be someone's fault. In this case Olympia and Harry's. Frieda smiled at him, looking vastly amused. He was easy to read. She had dealt with his kind of prejudice for years.

“No, he doesn't. Jews don't get tattoos. They're against our religion.”

“Oh,” he said, not knowing how to respond. He said something to Felicia then, and they both got up. The meal was over, and it was time to go back upstairs and join their guests in the ballroom. The girls were going to form a receiving line, to greet the guests as they went in, while their escorts waited for them backstage. It was nearly nine o'clock.





Chapter 9




Olympia rolled Frieda toward the elevator after the girls left. When last seen, Veronica had the stole neatly draped over her shoulders, and Olympia was once again grateful that Frieda had made it for her. At least the entire ballroom wasn't going to get a view of her tattoo. The rest of them had seen enough of it during dinner, and it had caused considerable stir.

“I'm sorry about Chauncey,” Olympia apologized to her, as she rolled her toward the elevator in the wheelchair.

“It's not your fault. It always amazes me that there are still people like him around. That kind of prejudice still takes me by surprise. He must live in a very sheltered world.”

“He does,” Olympia assured her, grateful that she was no longer married to him. Whatever Harry's faults, he was an intelligent, kind, decent man.

Once on the ballroom floor again, they went through the receiving line. It seemed to take forever, and Frieda sat and beamed at the girls when they got to them. She and Olympia had shaken all fifty properly extended gloved right hands. There were some very pretty girls in the group, but none as pretty, Olympia thought, as her twins. They looked dazzling in the very different but equally beautiful white evening gowns.

Frieda was still smiling with pride and pleasure when they found their table. Olympia settled her in, and sat down next to her. Ginny's friend Steve was already sitting there. He stood up politely and introduced himself, looking faintly embarrassed, and then sat down again. Olympia was cool and still seriously annoyed at him. The other couple she had invited came shortly afterward. She introduced them to Frieda, and within seconds Margaret Washington and her husband appeared. She had left her mother at the hospital in good hands. She was wearing a spectacular brown lace gown, almost the same color as her skin. Frieda thought she looked like a young Lena Horne. It was a congenial group as everyone talked about how beautiful the girls had looked on the receiving line.

Five minutes later, Chauncey and Felicia arrived. Olympia noticed that Chauncey was beginning to show the vast quantity of booze he had on board. And much to Olympia's annoyance, he stared at Margaret and her husband in disbelief as though he had never seen African Americans before. Or surely not here. He said not a word, looked at Olympia unhappily, and sat down. She had done the unthinkable. She had not only brought a Jewish woman with her to the ball, she had invited an African American couple. Chauncey looked as though he were going to burst an artery. And to add insult to injury, his daughter had a tattoo. Seeing the look on his face, Olympia started to laugh. Margaret's eyes met hers, and registered what she was laughing about, and she started laughing, too. Frieda was smiling blissfully, oblivious to what was going on. She loved watching the people, and seeing the jewels and evening gowns, and the pretty young girls. Frieda thought the ballroom was like something in a fairy tale. The look on her face was worth the entire night to her daughter-in-law. Whatever Chauncey thought of it, she knew she had done the right thing. Frieda deserved to be there as much as anyone else in the room. The days of Chauncey's world, its values and segregated, secluded life were over. In the end, what Olympia had done was far more powerful than Harry's statement by refusing to come. He had done exactly what people like Chauncey wanted, and stayed home. Olympia had brought the real world right into the ball with her, a Holocaust survivor and a brilliant young black lawyer who had grown up in Harlem. What better way to prove the point to them? She could think of none.

As she thought about it, she was startled to see Charlie walk toward her across the ballroom, and wondered if something was wrong. Everyone was at their table by then, and the girls had gone backstage to get ready for the presentation. Noses were being powdered, hair was being smoothed down and combed, lipstick was being put on. The band had begun to play, and the debutantes' parents and friends were dancing. They had another twenty minutes to enjoy themselves before the show began. Charlie strode purposefully across the floor, and much to his mother's surprise, he asked her to dance. She smiled at him, touched by the gesture. She knew he had done it because Harry wasn't there. And he knew how hard it was for her to spend an evening with his father. He had been boorish to her about the tattoo and rude to her guests. And for some odd reason, Chauncey and Felicia had invited none of their own. Charlie led his mother out on the dance floor, among the other parents, and began a graceful fox trot with her.

“Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?” She looked up at her firstborn with a happy smile, while Frieda watched them with pleasure. Olympia was a beautiful woman, and her son was a handsome, kind-hearted boy. He'd been eight when Olympia and Harry got married, and Frieda had watched him grow from child to man. Like his mother, she was proud of him, too. He was a good boy.

“I love you, Mom,” Charlie said quietly, and she saw the same shadow in his eyes again, as though there were a question there. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out the question, or the answer.

“I love you, too, Charlie. More than you know. The girls look pretty tonight, don't they?” He nodded, and she continued chatting as they danced. It had been years since she danced with him. It startled her to realize how much he looked like his father at the same age, but he was a much better person. “There are a lot of pretty girls here tonight. Maybe you'll find the girl of your dreams,” she teased him. In truth, she would have been unhappy if he had. She wanted him to find a girl from a more interesting world than this one. These people were all right for one night, but in some ways they were an oddity, a relic from the past, like Charlie's father. She wanted him to find someone with broader horizons than these, a woman whose values weren't as narrow. And as she thought about it, Charlie looked down at her with a quiet smile.