Debbie had two years for casual dating ahead at college, so why hurry to make up her mind about Con? Take your time, her mother had said. Now she wondered whether two years was enough time — or whether it was more time than she could stand. Was there a skeleton in the Flynns’ closet, or was she overreacting to an innocent discovery? Did that picture mean anything or could she shrug it off as interesting but insignificant family history? The only thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want to wait forever to find out. Mom’s advice notwithstanding, she was determined to settle the question sooner rather than later.
She was reluctant to ask directly, but she couldn’t think of a way to begin that awkward conversation. Con unwittingly started it for her. On the bus to New York for their Christmas break Debbie invited him to spend a couple of days with the Rabins after the holiday.
“I’d love to,” he answered with enthusiasm. “Will Josh be home too?”
“Yes.” She paused for a moment. “I wonder whether he’s got a new girlfriend. He might want to keep it to himself, not expose himself to questions, till he was sure.”
“I sure hope he does. He shouldn’t spend the rest of his life in mourning. And he’d be a good catch too.”
Debbie looked into her lap, wondering whether she should say what was on her mind. Finally she decided she had to.
“You know, Con, everybody feels sorry for Josh, and I know he deserves all that sympathy. But — and I feel terrible saying this, I just can’t help myself — Edie was my friend too. In fact she and I were best friends for years before it even occurred to Josh to become serious about her. Practically from the moment we came to Philadelphia. At that time Edie and I were both in fifth grade, and even when she had to repeat because of her illness, and we were never in the same grade after that, we remained close friends. Of course, living just a short walk from each other’s homes helped. But still. Perhaps I’m being selfish, but sometimes I feel that I deserve some sympathy too.”
By this time tears were running down her cheeks — whether tears of grief, self-pity, or self-rebuke, she would have been hard put to say. Maybe they were all of those.
“Oh God, I should just shut up,” she said with despair in her voice.
“It’s good to let it out,” Con said, attempting to comfort her. Then, after a pause, he picked up on a detail in her story.
“You came to Philadelphia in fifth grade? I thought you’d lived there all your life. Where are you from originally?”
“Pittsburgh. My father was offered a good position in Philadelphia, so we moved.”
“I don’t know anything about Mount Airy, despite all the time I lived in Philly. We lived in the Northeast, a couple of zip codes and ten miles away. But my father’s family’s originally from Georgia. Grandpa came north in the twenties to look for work and never returned home.”
That was Debbie’s cue. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Con and said:
“That family album in your living room, I assumed it was there for guests to look at, so I did. And there was a picture . . .”
“Yeah, you’re not the first person to ask. I wish my parents would just throw it away. Mom wants to, but Dad says it’s part of his family history and belongs with the other pictures. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were actually proud of it.”
“Were any of your family in that picture, wearing those hideous white robes and hoods?”
“I’m pretty sure there weren’t. Those Klan bastards wouldn’t take anyone who wasn’t American, white, and Protestant. We’re Catholics, and that alone would have disqualified any Flynn. Even the name sounds Irish and to most people Irish means Catholic.”
Debbie found little solace in Con’s declaration. Was he saying that if his ancestors hadn’t been disqualified they’d have been Klan members — by choice?
And she wondered about Mike Flynn’s attitude. Was he thankful that his family had been spared entanglement with that hate group? Or did he regret that they were rejected? And how about Gladys? Was she ashamed? Indifferent? Embarrassed? Why did she want to discard the picture? Did she hate the message? Or did she subscribe to it but not want visitors to know about this aspect of Flynn history?
Debbie had a lot of work to do before she confronted Con with those questions — whose answers, in any case, might lead to more speculation than fact. For now she could only feel the knot in her stomach and the pressure in her head.
As was her habit, she turned to her fount of wisdom in matters of the heart. Initially Esther’s eyes opened wide. This story obviously took her by surprise. After a silent pause, she nodded and looked her daughter in the eye.
“Children’s attitudes reflect those of their parents, sometimes more than they realize even after they’re grown up. But, unless they feel an obligation to carry on tradition, they also develop their own way of thinking. I don’t know Con well enough to predict how he’ll deal with his cultural inheritance. You don’t either, else you wouldn’t be asking me. But living an adult life with a chosen partner also influences a person’s thinking. We’re all constantly absorbing, integrating, rejecting, modifying our environment. What I’m saying is that Con could turn out quite different from his father. In fact, I’d say that’s likely, what with being born and bred in the North. Do you love him?”
“I enjoy his company. I always look forward to seeing him, talking with him, all those things, even physical. Is that love?”
Esther smiled. “Who knows what love is? I love your father, more now than when we were young — and differently. But you want a definition? I can’t give it to you, even though I use the word freely myself.”
Debbie shrugged. Her mother was trying to be helpful but not entirely succeeding. “Did you know,” Debbie asked, “how your love for Dad would become different, as you put it?”
“I had no idea. Didn’t even know there was a difference. In retrospect, I’d say I thought that what I felt for him early on would last forever.”
“And it didn’t?”
“No, it got better! Obsession — which characterizes ‘being in love’ as well as anything I can think of — developed into steadiness and comfort. No couple really knows how their early relationship will transform, but transform it will, either positively, as it did for your dad and me, or negatively, as it does for so many, who end up miserable and often divorced.
“Do you remember sharing pearls of wisdom on this subject with Eden? ‘Dating; going steady; loving’? I thought that was pretty insightful, especially at your age, and there was no doubt where Eden stood on that scale. So now you have to project it farther. Think of being in love and loving as different states. For starters, define those concepts — assuming, of course, that at one time or another you’ve been, or will be, both.”
Debbie shook her head vigorously as if that would clear her thinking. After a minute or so she had her answer.
“Mom,” she said, “you’re asking me to compare the present with the future, and I don’t know what the future is!”
“So there you are!” Esther admired the way Debbie had put it. Succinct and true. “Nobody does. You try to anticipate, based on what you’ve experienced and what it’s likely to develop into. And you can’t be certain you’ve got it right until that future becomes the present. At least you’re thinking, which is something a lot of young people unfortunately don’t do.”
Debbie threw up her hands. What’s the use of thinking, only to tell yourself later, Yeah, I thought of that possibility? In fact, she did think, often and hard, especially after a date with Con. But all the thinking didn’t lead her to the epiphany she longed for. A year later, with no intervening revelations, and conceding that she’d never be any wiser than she was then, she said yes.
They were married in a civil ceremony and had a reception at the Rabins’ home. Mike tried to smile when a smile was called for. Gladys wanted to have a second reception in Brooklyn, but Mike said, “One of those is enough.” In truth he feared that his reputation would suffer if his acquaintances, and especially prospective customers, got wind of the fact that his son had married a Jew.