everyone else who has to live in the real world.”
Alfie quipped, “Since when do you live in the real world, love?” Thunderous applause and laughter followed his retort. By now, I would usually be shouting into the phone, demanding to be recognized, but I found myself as entertained by the exchange as if I were an invited guest.
Kiki chimed in. “Why don’t you just admit what’s really bothering you?”
“And what’s really bothering me, darling?”
Kiki cleared her throat. “What state is Princeton in?”
In unison, Anjoli’s guests answered, “Jersey.” It’s a commonly known fact that my mother detests the entire state of New Jersey, Princeton University included. She grew up in Newark and never quite got over being disqualified from a beauty pageant for a piece of performance art that was deemed obscene by the Catholic Youth Association. I’ve heard it a thousand times: “Yoko Ono did the same thing twenty years later, and everyone said she was a genius.”
My mother let out a shriek that sounded as though she may have spilled hot water on herself. All of her guests were laughing, which meant Anjoli was fine. Or she had the sickest group of friends in Manhattan. “It’s true!” Anjoli screamed dramatically. “Kimmy, you mustn’t do this to me, darling. I beg of you. I had to visit Lucy in that godforsaken state for four years before she had the good sense to move to the Berkshires. I can see the handwriting on the wall. You’re going to marry this guy and live with him in, in — Jesus, God give me strength — New Jersey .” She cackled as her friends laughed. “I’m going to have to come visit you and this baby of yours in New Jersey.” I imagined Anjoli with her hand on her forehead dancing across the dining room for dramatic effect. As she swayed back and forth, I imagined little Mancha squealing under her stiletto heel.
“You must have some past-life issues to resolve that can only be addressed in New Jersey,” Kiki offered. I waited for the laughter, but no one so much as chuckled. Was this woman serious?
“Darling, you think I have bad New Jersey karma?” Anjoli said with terror.
“Not karma, per se, but perhaps this is the universe’s way of pulling you toward a spiritual polar point for your healing,” Kiki said.
It can never just be that some people choose to live in New Jersey because they like the suburbs. With my mother and her friends, there’s always some sort of crazy theory that focuses around them and their spiritual healing. The fact that a Princeton professor lived in New Jersey had absolutely nothing to do with him and his housing needs. It was all about my mother and her unresolved issues from a past life.
“You know what I’d love to see?” Alfie asked the group. “I hope this professor’s home is right across the street from the Kappa Kappa Cutie house, so everywhere Anjoli goes it’ll be Girlstown!”
“Bitch!” Anjoli said, laughing. “I simply don’t want to be bothered by their vile giggling at all hours of the morning.”
* * *
On April Fools’ Day, two wonderful events happened at the house. First, Jack finished his painting of Adam. It was magnificently colorful with thick swirls of yellow and red and orange defining his face. The painting wasn’t the cubist piece that Jack had originally intended, but it was even better than what he’d envisioned. There was a bright, modern quality about the texture and color that captured the spirit of our two-year-old. “You’re not going to sell it, are you?” I asked. “I want to hang it in the living room.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Jack said. “I’m going to do another and use that scattered concept we talked about.” He seemed so happy when he was painting. I wish I knew what Maxime was like when he was creating, but no one had seen that side of him yet.
The second joy of the first day of April was the arrival of Randy, the glass sculptor. Maybe it was the fact that the
Alfie quipped, “Since when do you live in the real world, love?” Thunderous applause and laughter followed his retort. By now, I would usually be shouting into the phone, demanding to be recognized, but I found myself as entertained by the exchange as if I were an invited guest.
Kiki chimed in. “Why don’t you just admit what’s really bothering you?”
“And what’s really bothering me, darling?”
Kiki cleared her throat. “What state is Princeton in?”
In unison, Anjoli’s guests answered, “Jersey.” It’s a commonly known fact that my mother detests the entire state of New Jersey, Princeton University included. She grew up in Newark and never quite got over being disqualified from a beauty pageant for a piece of performance art that was deemed obscene by the Catholic Youth Association. I’ve heard it a thousand times: “Yoko Ono did the same thing twenty years later, and everyone said she was a genius.”
My mother let out a shriek that sounded as though she may have spilled hot water on herself. All of her guests were laughing, which meant Anjoli was fine. Or she had the sickest group of friends in Manhattan. “It’s true!” Anjoli screamed dramatically. “Kimmy, you mustn’t do this to me, darling. I beg of you. I had to visit Lucy in that godforsaken state for four years before she had the good sense to move to the Berkshires. I can see the handwriting on the wall. You’re going to marry this guy and live with him in, in — Jesus, God give me strength — New Jersey .” She cackled as her friends laughed. “I’m going to have to come visit you and this baby of yours in New Jersey.” I imagined Anjoli with her hand on her forehead dancing across the dining room for dramatic effect. As she swayed back and forth, I imagined little Mancha squealing under her stiletto heel.
“You must have some past-life issues to resolve that can only be addressed in New Jersey,” Kiki offered. I waited for the laughter, but no one so much as chuckled. Was this woman serious?
“Darling, you think I have bad New Jersey karma?” Anjoli said with terror.
“Not karma, per se, but perhaps this is the universe’s way of pulling you toward a spiritual polar point for your healing,” Kiki said.
It can never just be that some people choose to live in New Jersey because they like the suburbs. With my mother and her friends, there’s always some sort of crazy theory that focuses around them and their spiritual healing. The fact that a Princeton professor lived in New Jersey had absolutely nothing to do with him and his housing needs. It was all about my mother and her unresolved issues from a past life.
“You know what I’d love to see?” Alfie asked the group. “I hope this professor’s home is right across the street from the Kappa Kappa Cutie house, so everywhere Anjoli goes it’ll be Girlstown!”
“Bitch!” Anjoli said, laughing. “I simply don’t want to be bothered by their vile giggling at all hours of the morning.”
* * *
On April Fools’ Day, two wonderful events happened at the house. First, Jack finished his painting of Adam. It was magnificently colorful with thick swirls of yellow and red and orange defining his face. The painting wasn’t the cubist piece that Jack had originally intended, but it was even better than what he’d envisioned. There was a bright, modern quality about the texture and color that captured the spirit of our two-year-old. “You’re not going to sell it, are you?” I asked. “I want to hang it in the living room.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Jack said. “I’m going to do another and use that scattered concept we talked about.” He seemed so happy when he was painting. I wish I knew what Maxime was like when he was creating, but no one had seen that side of him yet.
The second joy of the first day of April was the arrival of Randy, the glass sculptor. Maybe it was the fact that the
Similar Books
