Debbie had three swimsuits, one two-piece and two one-piece. For this weekend she had chosen a white one-piece, hoping to project the right balance of allure and modesty.
Sunday dawned cloudless, promising a perfect day at the beach. To avoid having to change after they reached their destination, she donned the swimsuit first, followed by a yellow blouse and dark blue shorts. Looking at herself in the mirror from front and side, she felt that her appearance would please both Con and his parents. She went looking for her hosts. Gladys was in the kitchen, wearing a full-length apron, mixing batter for pancakes.
“Good morning,” Debbie said. “May I help with something?”
“No need at all,” Gladys replied. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well, thanks.” The lie emerged effortlessly. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“You timed your visit well! Last Sunday was miserable, so humid I couldn’t find anything to wear! But run along now, Mike and Con are out on the porch. I’ll call you when breakfast’s ready. You can get dressed afterwards.”
Debbie thought she was dressed. It wasn’t until she saw the men wearing slacks and ties that the meaning of Gladys’s last remark dawned on her. Why hadn’t Con warned her ahead of time that they’d be going to church? Why hadn’t she thought to ask? What was she supposed to do now?
Con saw her first, and his eyes widened perceptibly the moment he did. Under other circumstances she’d have been pleased at his reaction to the sight of her. Now she was embarrassed, afraid, and angry all at the same time.
At that moment Mike emerged from behind the Daily News. He greeted her with a smile. “Hi!” he said, “all ready for a busy day? Well, not all ready, I can see. But you’re smart to stay cool as long as you can. Enough time to dress after breakfast.”
As fast as she could, Debbie ducked back inside, preferring to come clean to Gladys rather than Mike. “Mike and Con are dressed up,” she said, “and I see that behind your apron you are too.”
“Well, yes,” Gladys answered, “it’s Sunday, and we’re going to church, then dinner, then beach. You’re coming with us, aren’t you?”
In an instant Debbie’s appetite for those promising pancakes disappeared, replaced by a totally dry mouth and a racing pulse.
“Aren’t you?” Gladys repeated.
Slowly Debbie found her voice. “I’d love to, but there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Let me guess: You didn’t bring dress shoes!”
“That’s true, but there’s more. You see, I’m not Catholic.”
Gladys stepped forward, her arms outstretched as if about to hug Debbie, and suddenly realized that her hands were wet.
“Dear girl, the days of exclusion are long past. We welcome all Christians, Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, whatever.”
“But I’m not ―”
“If you don’t feed us soon,” came Mike’s voice from the porch, “we’ll be ready for seconds before we even start!”
“OK, Mike,” Gladys shouted back, “any minute.” She turned to Debbie.
“What were you going to say, dear?”
“I’m not Christian! I’m Jewish.”
Gladys took a moment to come to terms with that revelation. Not that she had any preconception regarding Debbie’s faith. She just hadn’t been thinking about it, and she had been caught off guard. Looking into Debbie’s eyes as they talked, she felt no inclination to like her any less than before. She was happy that her son, whose recklessness worried her, had found an anchor in a steady friendship. She had not envisioned a Jewish girl, but what could be wrong with befriending a college classmate? It wasn’t as if they were getting married.
And if they wanted to, who was she to stop them? Maybe she could persuade Debbie to convert, but no way was she going to start an everlasting conflict with Con over his choice of a life partner. Gladys liked Debbie a lot and she trusted her own judgment of character. That’s what mattered.
“And I’m a fool,” she said to Debbie, “for putting you in an awkward situation. I could say that the very first Christian was born a Jew, but I bet you already know that. Now let me make amends and invite you to come with us no matter what your faith is. Will you come?”
“I’m honored that you offer to take me. I’ve never been invited to a Catholic service. Will sandals be OK?”
“Absolutely.”
“But I didn’t bring a skirt. I can’t possibly go in shorts.”
Gladys considered a moment. “I’ll tell you what. You and I, we’re about the same height. And a safety pin will take care of the waist. Now let’s go eat before Mike starves to death.”
In Mike’s memory no guest, given the choice between bacon and sausage at breakfast, had ever turned down both. But then, he did not remember ever hosting a vegetarian. Maybe that was Debbie’s reason — but hadn’t she eaten a couple of lamb chops the previous evening? And raved about them? There had to be another reason. In the obverse of Esther’s analysis of Con’s last name, Mike now examined Debbie’s: Rabin. Maybe it had once been Robin. But maybe her ancestors were Rubin, Ruby, or Rabinowitch. He surreptitiously examined Debbie’s face, noting the subtle curvature of her nose. Yes, that was it! Confirming his suspicion, she had shown up at the breakfast table on Sunday morning in shorts, obviously not dressed for church. He suppressed the question he was on the point of asking, and decided to wait. Debbie would answer it soon enough.
Mike recognized Gladys’s dress on Debbie the moment the two women made their joint appearance. Con barely suppressed a smile as he saw his father’s disapproving frown. Meanwhile Gladys and Debbie remained stony-faced.
“It looks good on you,” Mike said with the slightest hint of sarcasm, looking at Debbie.
“Thank you,” Debbie answered quietly, knowing well what “it” was. “If I’d known we were going to church, I’d have brought my own.”
Without further ado the four went out and made their way to St. Rose of Lima Church on Parkville Avenue, an easy walk of only a few blocks. Gladys took Debbie’s hand, drawing a shrug from Mike and unspoken disappointment from Con, who would have liked to be Debbie’s escort.
Debbie had never been to a service in a Catholic church and looked forward to her first visit with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. What would be expected of her? Would she have to kneel, sing hymns, put money in a collection basket? Would she be called on to receive a blessing from the priest, walking alone down the aisle with the entire congregation watching? For an instant she thought of going back to Dekoven Court “for something she’d forgotten” — and not returning. But the gentle pressure of Gladys’s hand reassured her and she gave herself up to anticipation.
They filed into a pew in an order that placed her between Gladys and Con. How thoughtful! She looked around at the elaborate statuary and stained-glass windows, and remarked to herself that the interior of the church was quite beautiful.
As it turned out, she wasn’t the only attendee who did not kneel at any time during the service; others, surely not Jewish, seemed comfortable just sitting. Neither did any officiant pay particular attention to her. Only when the majority of worshipers left their pews and went down the aisle to receive Communion did Debbie wish she were elsewhere. However, Gladys took the edge off her uneasiness. “You stay here,” she said leaving her alone in the pew as all three Flynns joined the queue. This, of course, made her feel even more conspicuous than if she had actually joined in a ritual totally foreign to her experience. She wished Con had stayed behind, realizing at the same time that going to church meant witnessing all aspects of the service. At least, from her sitting position, the throng in the aisle blocked her view of Con receiving his Communion wafer.
Her only encounter with the priest was at the church door after the service, when Gladys introduced her as a visiting friend. Debbie’s heart skipped a beat as she fearfully anticipated a question about her associations in Philadelphia, but there were other congregants waiting to greet the priest. Nonetheless, she could not escape his controlled double take as he looked, mildly puzzled, at the dress she was wearing.
As soon as they were free of the crowd and on the way home, Debbie addressed Gladys: “Thank you so much for taking me. I was a little scared at first, but I really enjoyed it, and I learned a lot.” Gladys gave her hand a squeeze and smiled.
On Sundays, the Flynns ate dinner at midday. The main course on this occasion was Irish stew. Debbie dug in with a healthy appetite. Evidently, Mike noted, she distinguished between ham and lamb. OK, Debbie seemed like a nice enough girl and no harm need come of his son’s friendship. In fact, the experience might help smooth out some of Con’s rough edges. Maybe he’d go easy on the beer, especially before driving.
But the relationship had better proceed no farther. Marriage was out of the question. No son of his would bring a Jew into the family.
There would be plenty of time to worry about such matters later if their friendship showed signs of going too far. Meanwhile, the afternoon’s excursion beckoned. Mike drove the party to Far Rockaway and looked for a place to park. The search took twenty minutes, and another twenty minutes went into the walk to the beach. “It’s always like this on a summer weekend,” Mike said.
“Isn’t there a subway connection?” Debbie asked. “I thought you could get everywhere in New York by subway.”
“There is, you’re right,” Mike said, “and that’s how we usually go. But today we have a guest, and so we offer taxi service — plus a stroll through the neighborhood.”
Mike was evidently in a good mood and the afternoon promised to be fun for everyone.