Coming Out

“I figured you'd forgive me,” Veronica said with a sheepish smile, and hugged her again, as her mother wiped her eyes.

“Don't be so sure. And we have to do something about the dress. I came in here to look for your shoes.” They had shared such a wonderful Chanukah only hours before, and now there was this, to spoil it all for her.

“I can't find my shoes,” Veronica admitted blithely. “I think I gave them away.”

“Great.” It was nothing now compared to what she had done to her body. “I'll get you a pair tomorrow.” She was taking the day off, as she always did on Friday. She had a million things to do. She still had to get a wheelchair for Frieda from a medical supply store. She had to pick Frieda's dress up at her apartment, and now get Veronica a pair of shoes. But all she could think of as she sat there was the butterfly tattoo. “How am I supposed to find you a dress in one day?”

“I'll wear a sweater over it,” Veronica volunteered as Olympia started to cry again. This was too much for her already frayed nerves. Frieda's accident, Max's chicken pox, Harry's stubbornness, the cold she had had all week, and now the horror of the tattoo.

“You can't wear a sweater over an evening dress. Maybe I can find you a white satin stole somewhere. If I can't, we're screwed.”

“Come on, Mom, no one's going to get upset about it.”

“The hell they're not, and I already am. You can at least indulge me, for chrissake,” Olympia said, heartbroken and furious all at the same time.

“I am,” Veronica reminded her. “I'm coming out, aren't I? You know I didn't want to. So give me a break.”

“I am. I just didn't know you'd break my heart in exchange. Was this your revenge for making you come out? The iron butterfly?”

“No, Mom,” Veronica said, looking unhappy. “I got it the first week of school, as a symbol of my independence and flying free. My metamorphosis into being an adult.”

“Wonderful. I guess I'm lucky you didn't put a caterpillar on there too, to show the before and after.” She stood up then and looked at both her daughters, and without another word, she left the room. She passed Harry on the stairs and didn't say a word to him. She went downstairs to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. He could see how upset she was, and thought it was still about him. It was after midnight, and Olympia was obviously severely overwrought.

Frieda saw her walk past her open door with her head down, and a few minutes later hobbled into the kitchen on her crutches. Olympia was sitting at the kitchen table, crying over her cup of tea. She was thinking about the backless dress and what they were going to do. More than that, she was thinking about Veronica's perfect young body, and how she had defaced it. It would never be the same.

“Uh-oh,” Frieda said, looking at her. She'd had a feeling something was wrong, which was why she had come in. It wasn't like Olympia not to stick her head in the door to see how she was. “What's wrong?” she asked, as she gingerly let herself down into a kitchen chair across the table from her daughter-in-law. “Nothing serious, I hope,” Frieda said, looking worried. She hoped Harry wasn't being difficult again. She knew he had added to Olympia's stresses all week by refusing to attend the ball with her. She had never before seen her daughter-in-law in tears, and it upset her severely. The evening had seemed perfect until then, and now the mood was shattered.

“I was going to stop by and say good-bye before I committed suicide, but I thought I'd have a cup of tea first.” She smiled at her mother-in-law through her tears.

“That bad? Who did this to you? I'll beat them up for you, just tell me who it is.” It was like having a mom again, and it touched Olympia to the core, as she reached out for Frieda's hand across the table. Veronica's tattoo had just been too much for her. It seemed silly, but she was devastated over it. It was such a stupid thing to do. And worse yet, it was permanent. Olympia was sure Veronica would regret it in years to come, but she'd have to live with it anyway. And it was complicated having it removed, even if she wanted to one day. “If Harry made you cry like this, I'll kill him,” Frieda said with a stern air as Olympia shook her head.

“Veronica,” she said, and then blew her nose. It was bright red from blowing it all week. At least the antibiotics had helped Ginny. She was much better by the time she got home. Olympia could hardly say the words as she looked across the table at her mother-in-law. “She got a tattoo.”

“A tattoo?” Frieda looked stunned. It hadn't even occurred to her. On a list of possible tragedies, it would have been last on her list. “Where?”

“In the middle of her back,” Olympia said miserably. “This big!” She framed her hands to indicate the size of it all too accurately.

“Oh dear,” Frieda said, digesting the information Olympia had shared with her. “That's not good. What a foolish thing to do. I know they're fashionable now, but she'll be sorry she did it one day.”