“Okay, here’s my involvement. We have to invite Josh Lieberman and Rob Bergen,” Adam said naming his two closest friends growing up. “They’ll never believe it.”
“And Sharon Jacobson and Marcy Kaplan, if she can make it home from Africa or wherever she is. And Shari Edelstein too, so I can say ‘look who gets to kiss him now, honey’.”
“Are you going to let me feel you up in the stairwell?” he teased.
“I’ll let you feel me up anywhere you want, baby,” I said giving him a lecherous look that made him laugh.
“I think Braden and Gabrielle are going to have their legal clinic open by February, so we can start off next year married and with new jobs. That’s pretty exciting.”
“Yeah, two big steps toward the future. Maybe we should eventually think about getting a bigger place too, since you seem convinced that we’ll have kids someday.”
“Oh, that reminds me. Hannah said we could come over and stay at her place overnight next weekend to watch Josh. She and Nate will stay a hotel Saturday night. She was very grateful and she didn’t even sound all that worried.”
“Foolish woman,” I joked and he laughed. “Maybe she’s blocked out the diaper incident. At least he’s probably potty trained though.”
“She’ll probably have my mom hidden in the house somewhere in case of emergency. Break glass for Bubbe,” he added, making me snort.
“Speaking of parents, I hope that my parents’ divorce is amicable. They’re both such aggressive people. I have this image of them snarling at each other as they walk me up the aisle.”
“Maybe Mr. Jonathan can hire us some stand-ins.”
“That would be lovely.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to elope?”
“Ask me again in a week.”
Chapter Twelve
Sunday
The next morning we informed “the mothers” as I had begun calling them, of our intention to be married in just over a month from then. You would have thought that we had announced the end of the world. There was general panic and much scrambling. My mother called to inform us that they were holding a meeting at our apartment at two PM and that Mr. Jonathan himself would be there. I felt like I had been subpoenaed. I figured that I might as well invite Bruce, since his idol would be making an appearance. When he heard the news he nearly fainted.
Adam and I had a relaxing morning, eating bagels and lox, sipping our coffee and sharing the paper. Meanwhile, I imagined that Deb and Judith were operating like they were at DEFCON One. I couldn’t wait to see what they had whipped together by two PM. Never underestimate two Jewish mothers planning a wedding.
Two o’clock rolled around much too quickly for my taste. Bruce arrived first. He was practically vibrating with excitement. He had also taken pains to look his best and he was all spiffed up. He floated through the front door like a butterfly and settled himself in a chair as if he had just ascended the throne… as Queen.
Adam’s mother was next with all three of her daughters and little Josh in tow. Hannah came in schlepping a purse big enough to hide in, a tote bag filled with toys, an insulated snack bag with Elmo on it and a kiddie sized toilet seat. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail; her blouse was buttoned wrong and she was wearing two different socks. Motherhood didn’t look very easy.
I guess it all depended on the mother and hood, though, because in glided my egg donor looking immaculately put together. She had someone in tow too. I think it may have been Liberace. Bruce flew to his feet, and for a moment, I worried that he would actually prostrate himself before his master.
“Don’t tell me, Mr. Jonathan, right?” Adam asked with a sunny smile.
I don’t know what tipped him off. Maybe it was the gray and purple madras slacks paired with the magenta cardigan. Perhaps, it was the silver and white fringed scarf thrown, devil-may-care, around his neck, or the cute beret set at a jaunty angle on his finely coiffed head.
“A pleasure, but I must say, you two have created quite a panic. Let me tell you …”
“Mommy, I gotta go potty,” a little voice said from somewhere. Mr. Jonathan looked annoyed to have his opening remarks cut off. Too bad. Potty was a priority.
“Sure, honey. Mommy will take you.” Hannah went off with Josh as the rest of us settled around the dining room table. Yes, that dining room table. I tried not to think about it.
Adam and I spent several minutes listening to his mother try to reason with us, and my mother try to threaten us, so that we would hold off until at least June. When they realized they were wasting their time, they gave in and turned the floor over to Mr. J.
“I’ll need someone to assist,” he said, sounding like an emergency room surgeon.
“Me! Me! Pick me!” Bruce said throwing his arm in the air and waving it around.
“I think Bruce has to go potty too,” I noted dryly, earning me a catty look from Bette Davis. “I’m Bruce Goodman by the way. It’s a great honor to meet you,” he said sounding like he was greeting a Nobel Laureate.
“I’m humbled,” Mr. J. said, not sounding humble at all. “Mr. Goodman, if you would take notes …”
“Oh please, call me Bruce!” Bruce looked at me expectantly. I stared back. “Lil! I need some paper and a pen!” I rolled my eyes and got up to find him something to write on.
When I got back, Hannah had returned and I saw Josh sitting on the floor playing with his blocks and a toy dump truck. It reminded me of a very sexy bath that Adam and I took together recently. Not because it involved a dump truck, just because every time I started getting stressed out lately I thought about sex, and any time my mother was in the room, I was stressed out. Armed with his stationery and writing utensil, Bruce shook out his arms, loosened his shoulders, adjusted his sleeves, and after three attempts, found the perfect way to lean on the table. I sighed.
Mr. J., on the other side of the table, looked like he was psyching himself up for an Olympic power-lifting event. He leaned back in his chair, covered his eyes with one perfectly manicured hand, in a modified “The Thinker” pose, and paused for dramatic effect. Clearly he was the Joan Crawford to Bruce’s Bette Davis. What ever happened to g*y men who defied stereotypes? The only thing Bruce defied was logic.
“Bar and Bat Mitzvah theme,” he said, sounding like Carnac the Magnificent.
“Adam did a Las Vegas review,” Deb Roth said proudly.
“And Sharon Jacobson and Marcy Kaplan, if she can make it home from Africa or wherever she is. And Shari Edelstein too, so I can say ‘look who gets to kiss him now, honey’.”
“Are you going to let me feel you up in the stairwell?” he teased.
“I’ll let you feel me up anywhere you want, baby,” I said giving him a lecherous look that made him laugh.
“I think Braden and Gabrielle are going to have their legal clinic open by February, so we can start off next year married and with new jobs. That’s pretty exciting.”
“Yeah, two big steps toward the future. Maybe we should eventually think about getting a bigger place too, since you seem convinced that we’ll have kids someday.”
“Oh, that reminds me. Hannah said we could come over and stay at her place overnight next weekend to watch Josh. She and Nate will stay a hotel Saturday night. She was very grateful and she didn’t even sound all that worried.”
“Foolish woman,” I joked and he laughed. “Maybe she’s blocked out the diaper incident. At least he’s probably potty trained though.”
“She’ll probably have my mom hidden in the house somewhere in case of emergency. Break glass for Bubbe,” he added, making me snort.
“Speaking of parents, I hope that my parents’ divorce is amicable. They’re both such aggressive people. I have this image of them snarling at each other as they walk me up the aisle.”
“Maybe Mr. Jonathan can hire us some stand-ins.”
“That would be lovely.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to elope?”
“Ask me again in a week.”
Chapter Twelve
Sunday
The next morning we informed “the mothers” as I had begun calling them, of our intention to be married in just over a month from then. You would have thought that we had announced the end of the world. There was general panic and much scrambling. My mother called to inform us that they were holding a meeting at our apartment at two PM and that Mr. Jonathan himself would be there. I felt like I had been subpoenaed. I figured that I might as well invite Bruce, since his idol would be making an appearance. When he heard the news he nearly fainted.
Adam and I had a relaxing morning, eating bagels and lox, sipping our coffee and sharing the paper. Meanwhile, I imagined that Deb and Judith were operating like they were at DEFCON One. I couldn’t wait to see what they had whipped together by two PM. Never underestimate two Jewish mothers planning a wedding.
Two o’clock rolled around much too quickly for my taste. Bruce arrived first. He was practically vibrating with excitement. He had also taken pains to look his best and he was all spiffed up. He floated through the front door like a butterfly and settled himself in a chair as if he had just ascended the throne… as Queen.
Adam’s mother was next with all three of her daughters and little Josh in tow. Hannah came in schlepping a purse big enough to hide in, a tote bag filled with toys, an insulated snack bag with Elmo on it and a kiddie sized toilet seat. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail; her blouse was buttoned wrong and she was wearing two different socks. Motherhood didn’t look very easy.
I guess it all depended on the mother and hood, though, because in glided my egg donor looking immaculately put together. She had someone in tow too. I think it may have been Liberace. Bruce flew to his feet, and for a moment, I worried that he would actually prostrate himself before his master.
“Don’t tell me, Mr. Jonathan, right?” Adam asked with a sunny smile.
I don’t know what tipped him off. Maybe it was the gray and purple madras slacks paired with the magenta cardigan. Perhaps, it was the silver and white fringed scarf thrown, devil-may-care, around his neck, or the cute beret set at a jaunty angle on his finely coiffed head.
“A pleasure, but I must say, you two have created quite a panic. Let me tell you …”
“Mommy, I gotta go potty,” a little voice said from somewhere. Mr. Jonathan looked annoyed to have his opening remarks cut off. Too bad. Potty was a priority.
“Sure, honey. Mommy will take you.” Hannah went off with Josh as the rest of us settled around the dining room table. Yes, that dining room table. I tried not to think about it.
Adam and I spent several minutes listening to his mother try to reason with us, and my mother try to threaten us, so that we would hold off until at least June. When they realized they were wasting their time, they gave in and turned the floor over to Mr. J.
“I’ll need someone to assist,” he said, sounding like an emergency room surgeon.
“Me! Me! Pick me!” Bruce said throwing his arm in the air and waving it around.
“I think Bruce has to go potty too,” I noted dryly, earning me a catty look from Bette Davis. “I’m Bruce Goodman by the way. It’s a great honor to meet you,” he said sounding like he was greeting a Nobel Laureate.
“I’m humbled,” Mr. J. said, not sounding humble at all. “Mr. Goodman, if you would take notes …”
“Oh please, call me Bruce!” Bruce looked at me expectantly. I stared back. “Lil! I need some paper and a pen!” I rolled my eyes and got up to find him something to write on.
When I got back, Hannah had returned and I saw Josh sitting on the floor playing with his blocks and a toy dump truck. It reminded me of a very sexy bath that Adam and I took together recently. Not because it involved a dump truck, just because every time I started getting stressed out lately I thought about sex, and any time my mother was in the room, I was stressed out. Armed with his stationery and writing utensil, Bruce shook out his arms, loosened his shoulders, adjusted his sleeves, and after three attempts, found the perfect way to lean on the table. I sighed.
Mr. J., on the other side of the table, looked like he was psyching himself up for an Olympic power-lifting event. He leaned back in his chair, covered his eyes with one perfectly manicured hand, in a modified “The Thinker” pose, and paused for dramatic effect. Clearly he was the Joan Crawford to Bruce’s Bette Davis. What ever happened to g*y men who defied stereotypes? The only thing Bruce defied was logic.
“Bar and Bat Mitzvah theme,” he said, sounding like Carnac the Magnificent.
“Adam did a Las Vegas review,” Deb Roth said proudly.
