Chapter 2
Laden with garment bags that I told Betty I would store at my house to help her make room for the new baby, I practiced my story for my parents.
I didn’t, however, expect to see Uncle Gil sitting in the living room, chain-smoking furiously with my father.
“—a major problem,” he was saying. “When I go out of my way to make an effort, and she doesn’t even—”
I tried to sneak past them and make it up to my room undetected, but a gust of wind—likely from Uncle Gil’s fat head, I thought—made the door shut too loudly, and he and my father turned to look at me.
I smiled innocently. “Hi, Daddy. Uncle Gil.”
Neither returned my smile.
“You better not have been shopping again,” my father said sternly, inclining his head toward the bags in my arms.
“Of course not,” I said, insulted. “These are Betty’s clothes that I said I’d keep for her because she needs her closet space right now.”
“And I don’t suppose you’ll be wearing them for her too?” Not much got past my father.
“Well, keeping them in rotation is cheaper than mothballs.”
He shook his head. “Would you care to explain why you didn’t go to your interview that your uncle went to great lengths to set up for you?”
I draped the garment bags carefully over the club chair in the corner of the living room—if the clothes were wrinkled, I would have to iron them before I could wear anything to my first day of work, and heaven knew I didn’t pick up ironing skills in college.
When I looked back up, with great poise I may add, my mother had entered from the kitchen with glasses of brown liquor for the two men and an expression on her face that told me she was in no mood for my games.
“I’m terribly sorry, Uncle Gil,” I said, though I wasn’t in the slightest. “I had every intention of being there today.” Lie. “But you see, Daddy left before I was ready, and I took the bus downtown, and there was this woman who smelled like cat food—”
“The point, Judith,” my father said.
“I suppose I’m burying the lead, but honestly that detail is important, because I was so distracted by the cat food lady that I missed the stop and rode too far—”
My mother’s eyebrows were approaching her hairline. “You’d think you’d want to get away from her quicker,” she muttered.
“Oh, I did! But I was so nervous that I would smell bad for my interview that I just wasn’t thinking clearly.
You know me—a total flibbertigibbet.” She pursed her lips but didn’t argue the point.
I was anything but a scatterbrain, but they never quite saw that I had a plan.
Sometimes it worked in my favor—I could get away with them saying, Oh, that’s just Judy.
Don’t take her seriously. Which I hated, but that attitude had gotten me out of more than a few pickles over the years.
Uncle Gil’s divorce included. “Anyway, I was walking the five blocks back to Uncle Gil’s office when I passed The Washington Digest building.
And on my honor, I thought nothing of it, until I heard two men—oh, Mom, you should have seen them.
So handsome. Not a wedding ring in sight.
” I lowered my voice, saying, “One of them even looked Jewish!” Back to normal tone.
“They were talking about a job opening at The Digest. And well, I do have a degree in journalism, and I had a little while before I had to be at Uncle Gil’s office, and I thought, Why not just see what the job is?
And wouldn’t you know it? They absolutely loved me and hired me on the spot! ”
“As a reporter?” my father asked skeptically.
“Well, no, not exactly. Not yet anyway. I’ll be starting in the typing pool, but I thought one clerical job is probably just as good as the next for finding a husband and all—”
My mother moaned faintly and slid down onto the sofa next to my father. “She could have married a lawyer or a doctor and she chooses a journalist?”
“To be fair, they have lawyers at the paper, Mom.” I didn’t know if that was remotely true. “And I’m not exactly engaged to anyone. But why not enjoy my work while I look around?” Uncle Gil’s face darkened. “No offense, Uncle Gil. But I did get a degree.”
“Only because you didn’t find a husband,” my mother said.
“Young lady, I put in a good word for you,” my uncle said, “and you made me look foolish.”
I sighed. “Uncle Gil, you did that yourself by setting up an interview for me in the first place.”
Okay, I didn’t say that. I thought it. I didn’t say it.
“I am so sorry, Uncle Gil, and I appreciate you so much. I truly do. But imagine if instead of becoming the high-powered attorney that you are today, your parents forced you to go to medical school and become a doctor. You wouldn’t wish that kind of unfulfillment on your niece, would you?”
By the look on his face, yes, he clearly would. Time to switch tactics.
“I’d be terrible at keeping things confidential. What if you lost a client over my inability to be discreet?” Another lie. I was far more discreet than any of them would ever guess. But better to play into my flighty family reputation for now.
“No,” he said gruffly—and hopefully realizing he had dodged a bullet by me standing him up. “That’s true. You’re far from reliable.” He downed his drink and stood. “It’s just a shame that your sister never needed a job. Betty would have done me proud.”
My mother looked like she wanted to argue, because having three children by age twenty-five was the exact achievement she wanted for both of us. And at twenty-two, unless I got married tomorrow and popped out three kids in rapid succession, that wasn’t happening.
“Betty is pretty perfect,” I agreed. “But don’t you worry, Uncle Gil, as an employee of The Digest, I promise to scour every picture to be sure you’re not in one doing anything untoward.
This time.” His face turned purple, and he started sputtering as I skipped out of the room, snatching the garment bags and dashing up the stairs.
Enraging Uncle Gil wasn’t the best way to get my parents off my back, but sometimes it was just too fun to resist.