25 #2
I took a sip of water before replying, as measuredly as I could. “I’m afraid I’m not a naive twenty-one-year-old anymore. I don’t see the need to ‘settle down’ with someone who doesn’t recognize that I have the autonomy to make decisions for myself.”
Ruth shot me a warning look and I dropped it, reminding the children that they needed vegetables, not just meat and challah for dinner.
I cut a small piece of the brisket and sniffed it discreetly before taking a bite. It smelled fine, but chewing was as herculean an effort as consuming a piece of tire rubber would be.
“Barbara is a wonderful cook, isn’t she?
” Ruth asked, then took a bite of brisket herself.
I worried she’d lose a crown on the tough meat, and the date would end with an emergency visit to a dentist. Why wouldn’t she just let me actually cook?
He could learn she was awful at it after she had hooked him.
Sam finally swallowed the piece he had spent an abnormally long time working on. “Quite,” he said, reaching for his water. He glanced at me before attempting a brussels sprout that I couldn’t quite recommend based on the appearance. “So, Barbara, do you want more children?”
I choked on my brisket. “Excuse me,” I said, after gulping some water.
“I—I haven’t—I don’t—” I looked to Ruth, who shrugged at me.
“Ruth is—uh—just wonderful as a grandmother,” I said, reaching for anything to redirect the conversation to her.
“I think, at my age, unless I met the right guy tomorrow ...”
“Or today,” Ruth said, inclining her head toward Sam.
“You’re not too old at all,” Sam said. “Twenty-eight, right?” He turned to Ruth.
I blinked heavily at Ruth, and she smiled pointedly back at me. And suddenly I realized—
“Ruth. Kitchen. Now. Please.” I stood, put my napkin on the table, and left the room.
Ruth joined me a moment later. “You’re being so rude,” she whispered loudly. “He’s going to lose interest.”
“In you ?”
She looked confused. “Why would he be interested in me?”
“You asked him here. On a date.”
“A date for you.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache coming on suddenly. “Why?”
“Well, he’s handsome and single and Jewish. I thought he’d be a good fit.”
“He’s your age!”
“So? His parents are both still alive. He could outlive you.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Twice. “Ruth,” I said warningly.
“Well, he’s not here for me. So you might as well go be polite and give him a chance.”
I was willing to make concessions to make Ruth happy. But not by marrying a fifty-seven-year-old man who thought my place was in the kitchen. That was a step too far.
“I am not even a little interested in that man,” I said slowly. She started to argue, but I held up a hand to stop her. “At the risk of sounding like one of Bobby’s Dr. Seuss books, that man is a louse. And there’s no room for a louse in my house.”
“No one is going to be Harry,” Ruth said quietly. “I understand that. But you don’t get any points for being a martyr.”
I wanted to stomp my foot and call her a hypocrite. She was a hypocrite! She wasn’t out here trying to replace Abe even after more than twenty years. How dare she call me a martyr for not wanting to remarry just two years after losing Harry?
But if I let myself say anything to her right then, it was going to cause irreparable harm. And the children were likely to hear it. And even in my deepest, darkest, most explosive rage, they mattered more than anything I wanted to say to this impossible woman before me.
So I pushed past her back to the dining room and took my seat at Sam’s right. “I’m terribly sorry,” I said, my voice trembling with the effort to contain my anger. “But I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding in inviting you here tonight. I thought Ruth asked you here as her date.”
“ Her date?” Sam asked, confused. “Why would I want to date an older woman?”
Yes, I was seeing red because of Ruth. But I was starting to get even more angry at him. “She’s only three years older than you.”
“Which is too old to have children,” Sam said. “I’m in my prime. You’re a little past yours, but I’m willing to overlook that.”
I stood suddenly, bumping my knees on the table and knocking over a water glass in the process.
“Don’t you dare overlook a single thing about me.
I love my job. I even love that horrible woman in there.
” I turned and saw her standing in the doorway.
“And most of all, I love these kids, who are never going to have someone like you in their life. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to please leave my house. ”
He stared at me for a moment. “Smooth your feathers,” he said. “Your cooking is terrible, but I’m not going to throw the baby out with the bathwater over that. You can learn.”
I glanced back at Ruth, whose brows had met in the middle. “I’m afraid I agree with Barbara,” she said. “Dinner is over. Goodbye, Mr. Goldberg.”
He looked from her to me, and back to her, then stood, throwing his napkin onto his plate. “You deserve each other,” he said. “Crazier than loons, the two of you. The hospital is going to hear about this. I doubt they want people like you working there.”
“I recommend you go to a different hospital next time,” I warned him. “Because I guarantee, I will still be working there. And if I choose to remarry, it will be to someone who appreciates my interests and supports my decisions. Good night, Mr. Goldberg.”
He left, grumbling about rubbery brisket and stale scotch.
“I think this is Grandma’s best brisket yet,” Bobby said.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Ruth said, hugging his head to her chest.
“It’s like chewing gum. I love chewing gum.”
She pushed him playfully away. “Eat your gum,” she said. Then she looked at me. “He wasn’t a gentleman.”
I shook my head, still pretty angry, and started clearing the table.