“So you two are sleeping together?” Bubbe asked.
“Ma!” my mother cut in.
“It’s okay. We seem to get asked that a lot,” Braden said with a smile.
“Well, it’s no big deal if you are, sweetheart. God knows that Ben schtupped Judy enough before they got married. The two of them were always going at it.”
“Bubbe please!” I begged. “I don’t want to hear about my parents having sex at the Sabbath meal! Or ever! I need therapy now.”
“Mother that is enough!” My mom was getting seriously pissed.
“Hey, at least you’re out of high school not like Rachel’s boyfriends,” Bubbe responded giving Braden an evil smile.
“For the last time! My boyfriends are not in high school, you crazy old bag! One of them was a college student who was student teaching.”
“Well, maybe your cousin could teach you a thing or two about how to find a boyfriend old enough to have finished college. Look at the Viking over there! I’ll bet he gets plenty of oral attention!”
I almost passed out, I swear. And then it dawned on me; while he may have gotten plenty in the past, I hadn’t given him any. As if sensing my thoughts Braden reached over and squeezed my hand reassuringly.
“Okay, okay Rose,” my dad said, starting to sound very pissed off too. “My family’s sex lives are not dinner conversation.” As if wanting to be a stand-up guy too, Ira chimed in and attempted to change the subject. Unfortunately, it was Ira.
“So Gabrielle, maybe if you do good work you can get a job as a real lawyer someday.”
“A public defender is a real lawyer. In fact most of them are better than the private defense lawyers,” Braden corrected, sounding a teeny bit pissed himself. What a lovely family dinner.
“You hear that Ira?” Ruth asked in a chastising tone. “He didn’t mean any offense Gabby! We know that getting criminals off is very important!”
Bubbe huffed. Apparently, she didn’t agree.
“At any rate,” Ira tried again, “you’re looking great Gabby! You were getting kind of chunky there for a while.”
“So Braden, do you have any brothers or sisters?” Rachel cut in, trying to help out.
“I have a sister who’s twenty-five and a brother who’s twenty-three.”
“Uh oh,” Bubbe said under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Rachel shot back.
“Okay enough!” my mother shouted.
We ate in silence for a few minutes before Bubbe made one last attempt to be annoying by asking Braden if he would be learning anything about Jewish culture in the foreseeable future. Before I or anyone else, could rush in to defend the fact that he had had the audacity to be born a gentile, he himself answered that he had been thinking about doing that for quite some time, as one of his closest friends was also Jewish. My mother looked like she wanted to crawl across the table and embrace him and my dad looked like he wanted to fund a scholarship at Yeshiva University in his name.
After dinner everyone retired to the parlor and my father did something extraordinarily kind; he suggested that since Braden and I enjoyed walking so much, we should go out for a stroll around the neighborhood before it got dark. I loved my dad! We headed out into the warm New York evening holding hands.
“So I’m sure you’ve been to New York many times, but this is my neighborhood.”
“I love this. These homes have so much character. This city has so much character.” He was looking around and taking it all in.
“I think so too! Whenever I was feeling depressed about something I would take a walk and remind myself that I lived in one of the most exciting, must cultural, most interesting cities in the world and it would cheer me up.” I smiled and took it all in.
“You really love it.” He smiled.
“I do!”
“So why did you move to Philly?”
“I wanted some space from my family so I could learn how to be a grown-up. Besides, I like Philly too, even more now.” I squeezed his hand.
We talked about what we should do the next day and decided to visit a museum and go book shopping among other things. As it got darker we walked home again, and I must say I felt much calmer than when we left. When we got back nobody was fighting, thank God. My relatives were being decently well behaved and they had the courtesy to leave not long after we got back.
“So, Braden! You survived!” my dad said with a smile.
“They were very interesting.” Braden laughed.
“Clearly he doesn’t know them well enough yet,” my mother said dryly. “So my darling family, it’s nine o’clock on a Friday evening in Manhattan. Obviously we can’t just stay in the house.” I liked that fact that she had included Braden in our “darling family.” He seemed to like it too. It was almost cracking me up how much he was enjoying this trip so far.