Olympia didn't leave till nearly dinnertime. When she got home, Harry was cooking dinner, Max was helping him. They had made a huge mess in the kitchen, but they seemed to be having fun. Harry had lit the barbecue in the garden, and they were having steak. Max had just started first grade.
“Where have you been?” Harry inquired as she kissed him and then bent to give her son a hug.
“Shopping with your mother,” she said, looking happy to be with them. It was the kind of cozy, domestic scene she loved.
“Was she okay?” he asked, as he put the steaks on a tray. It was still warm outside.
“Fine. We found her a really pretty dress for the ball.”
“Oh that,” he said, frowning, and then walked outside to put the steaks on the barbecue, as Max turned to his mother.
“He's still not going,” Max said with a serious expression.
“I know.” Olympia smiled at her youngest son.
“You're not mad at him anymore?” Max was concerned.
“No. He has a right to his opinions.” As she said it, Harry walked back in, and she spoke directly to him. “Although your position about not going to the ball is actually discriminatory. You're discriminating against WASPs.”
“They're discriminating against blacks and Jews.”
“I guess you're even then,” she said calmly. “I'm not sure one discrimination is better than the other. It seems about the same to me.”
“You've been talking to my mother,” he said, tossing the salad. “She just wants an excuse to get dressed up. You all do. You're losing sight of what this kind of thing means.”
“It's just a rite of passage, Harry. There's no malice behind it, and the girls will be disappointed if you don't go. That seems worse to me, hurting people you love and who love you, in order to make a statement to people you don't know, and who won't care that you're not there. We will.”
“You'll be fine without me. Max and I will stay here.”
“What are they going to come out of?” Max asked, still confused about what the girls would be doing, and how Charlie would help them, while his mother and grandmother watched. Although he knew his father disapproved.
“The girls are going to walk out on a big stage, under an archway of flowers, and they will make a curtsy, like this.” She demonstrated it for him, sinking gracefully with her head up and back straight, and then coming back up again with her arms extended like a ballerina.
“That's it?” Max looked intrigued, as Harry went to turn the steaks on the barbecue. He had seen her curtsy and pretended he didn't. He didn't want to know.
“That's it. It looks better in a long dress.”
“That looked pretty good.” Max looked impressed. His mother was pretty, and so were his sisters. He was proud of all of them, and Charlie and his dad, too. “Do the girls know how to do that?” He hadn't seen them practice and it looked hard to him. He suspected correctly that it was harder than it looked.
“Not yet, but they will. They'll have a rehearsal that afternoon before the ball.”
“I bet they do it better than everyone else,” Max said with certainty. “What will Charlie do?”
“He'll stand next to Ginny while she does it, and then give her his arm, and they'll walk down the stairs. And afterward, the girls will dance with their dad.”
“Both of them at the same time?” It sounded complicated to Max.
“No, one at a time.” The other twin could have danced with Harry, if he'd been there, and then switched. This way, without him, they would have to take turns.
“Who's going to walk Veronica down the stairs?”
“We don't know yet. Veronica has to figure it out by Thanksgiving.”
“He better be good, so he can catch her if she falls over while she does that thing you just did, or if she falls down the stairs.” Harry and Olympia both laughed and their eyes met, as he put their steaks on plates. And then suddenly Olympia laughed at the memory of her own escort. She hadn't thought of it in years.
“My date got drunk before we got out onstage. He passed out, and they had to find another boy to go onstage with me. I'd never met him before, but he was very nice.”
“I bet they got really mad at the one who got drunk.”
“Yes, they did.” She remembered, too, and didn't mention, that it had been the last time she danced with her father. He had died the following year, and later she had cherished the bittersweet memory of her last dance with him. It had been an important night for her, just as she hoped it would be for the girls. Not a life-changing moment, but one that, in retrospect, had always meant a lot to her. She had never given it any particular social importance or significance. It had just been a night when she felt special and important, and everyone had made a fuss over her. She had never felt that beautiful again until her wedding day. Other events in her life had had deeper meaning, her marriages to Chauncey and later Harry, the births of her children, her graduation from Vassar and later Columbia Law School, the day she learned she had passed the bar. But that one night at The Arches had meant a lot to her, too. Particularly the last dance with her dad.
“It sounds like a bat mitzvah,” Harry said quietly, as he listened to her.
“You're right,” she said gently. “It's all about how important a young girl is on that special day.” She had been to one or two with him over the years, and had been impressed by how special the girl being celebrated felt, as they made speeches about her, showed films of her childhood, and carried her mother around the room in a chair. Bar mitzvahs, for boys, were even more impressive, and also a rite of passage. They were all-important landmarks between adulthood and youth—officially, the end of your childhood, and your entry into an adult world. Watching Veronica and Virginia go through it was something she would have liked to share with him.
Harry still didn't see it that way. He thought it was more important to make a statement about the political incorrectness of the event. Max asked a number of questions about bar mitzvahs then, and Harry talked about his. It was a time he would always remember with tenderness and joy. Max was already excited thinking about his, and it was seven years away.
The girls called as Olympia and Harry were cleaning up after dinner. They liked their classes, and said everything was fine at school. They were sharing a suite with each other and two other girls. Charlie had a single room that year, as a lofty senior at Dartmouth. He had opted to live on campus, in the dorms. He had talked about getting a house with a bunch of roommates, and decided against it in the end. He said he didn't mind living in the dorms again. They hadn't heard from him since the day he left. They knew he was busy, and had a lot to do as he started his senior year. None of the older children was coming home before Thanksgiving. It felt like too long to Olympia before she saw them again. It made her more grateful than ever that they had Max, and another twelve years to look forward to with him.
Harry and Olympia put Max to bed together that night. Harry read him a story, while Olympia kissed him and tucked him in. After they did, they went to their own room, and talked for a long time. They both had heavy workloads and important cases to deal with. They liked talking about their work and the things they did all day. She loved sharing all aspects of her life with him, and hearing what he thought. She valued his opinions and judgment, about all matters, except the deb ball. She thought he was being utterly absurd about that.
When she snuggled up next to him in bed that night, she was grateful for him. She loved the life and children they shared. It was a good life, filled with loving people, work they enjoyed, and children who were a perpetual blessing to them. She fell asleep in his arms as they whispered, and for the first time in months, the ball no longer seemed important, whether or not he attended. If not, it no longer mattered. She loved him anyway.