Two of a Kind (34 page)

“Me? All right, I guess. I've been better.”

“So have I,” she said. “Been better, that is.”

“Everything's all right with the pregnancy? What does the doctor say?”

She told him about her last visit to Amy Wenders and then there was a lull. Even in the shared silence, she felt he was close to her, close enough to reach if only she dared.

“There was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Ask away.”

“It was about that ring.” She paused, trying to assemble the right sequence of words. “The one you wanted to give me. I never tried it on.”

“No,” he said. “You didn't.”

“Do you suppose I still could—that is, if you still have it—”

“Yes,” he said. She could hear the happiness in his voice now, surging like a current, invisible but strong, connecting them. “Yes, I do. Yes, you could. Yes.”

A
fter the heavy rain the night before, the July morning dawned clear and bright; it promised to be a glorious day. Christina saw that the place beside her in the bed—no longer on the bedroom floor of her apartment, but properly set up—was empty. Andy was in the shower; she could hear him singing the chorus from “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'” loud enough to be heard above the rushing water. Even though he could not hear her, Christina chimed in. She loved the score from
Oklahoma!
too and if there had been more time, she would have slipped into the shower for a duet. But Jordan would be up any minute now and they all had to be out of here early; the wedding at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden was scheduled for nine o'clock.

Two hours later, Christina circulated among the small group assembled right inside the entrance. Andy had first suggested Great Neck—
It's where we met,
he said—but Christina said no. She had not liked him on that initial meeting. And Great Neck was where she had turned him down. No, better to marry in a place that held none of those associations. She was a Brooklyn girl through and through and she could think of no better symbol of the borough than this beloved garden.

Jordan came up to her. “Are you nervous?” she asked. She wore the same dress she'd worn to Angelica's wedding last year and a pair of pearl studs Andy had bought for her. Christina had a new dress—raw silk ivory with a scalloped hem and a forgiving waistline to accommodate the small but noticeable swell in her stomach. Her bouquet was a cluster of gardenias and there were gardenias woven into her upswept hair.

“A little,” she admitted. “Getting married is still . . .”

“What?” Jordan prompted, looking genuinely curious.

“A momentous occasion.” She leaned over and kissed her daughter on the brow.

Oliver, looking very grown-up in a suit and with newly shorn hair, came over to join them. “My dad finally saw the light,” he said.

“I think he saw it before I did,” Christina said. She straightened his tie—the first time she'd ever seen him wearing one—because she felt she was permitted to do that now. He patiently submitted to the adjustment and then asked, “Does it look okay?” There was still something of the boy about him, haircut and suit notwithstanding.

“Yes,” she said. “Very handsome.” Then she turned to look for Andy. The rest of the wedding party—Ida, Stephen and Misha, Mimi, a few friends and colleagues of Andy, the florist, Gus, who had provided all the flowers, and his wife—were here; Andy was the only one missing.

“Should we get into position now?” Misha asked. Along with Stephen and two of the college friends, he would be responsible for the small chuppah.

“That would be a good idea,” Christina said. The garden allowed weddings from nine to ten o'clock on weekends; it was already nine fifteen and though the ceremony was not long, she did think they should get started. The rabbi—chosen by Andy—and the pastor from the Old First Church were chatting. There was Ida in a shantung suit topped by an elaborate straw hat, beaming. Everyone else was present and ready. But no Andy. Christina scanned the semicircular area with its Italianate landscaping, vine-covered pergolas, burbling fountain, and limestone benches. Beyond was the emerald lawn, fresh and shimmering from all the rain the night before. It was the perfect place to get married. Only where was the groom? They were all waiting.

She heard him before she saw him. “Tell her not to worry; it's going to be fine,” he was saying into his cell phone. “I'll call her later. I'm busy right now.”

“Yes,” Christina said, walking up to him when he came into view. She plucked the phone from his grasp. “You are.” Andy looked splendid in his fine Italian linen suit, only a few shades darker than her dress. One of her gardenias was pinned to his lapel. She gave the phone to Oliver, who silenced it before slipping it into his pocket. Then, stepping under the fragile canopy of the chuppah, Christina and Andy joined hands.

Photo by Keith Price

Yona Zeldis McDonough
is the author of four previous novels and the editor of two essay collections. Her fiction, essays, and articles have appeared in
Bride's
,
Cosmopolitan
,
Family Circle
,
Harper's Bazaar
,
Lilith
,
Metropolitan Home
,
More
, the
New York Times
,
O, the Oprah Magazine
, the
Paris Review
, and
Redbook
. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and two children.

CONVERSATION GUIDE

Yona Zeldis McDonough

This Conversation Guide is intended to enrich the individual reading experience, as well as encourage us to explore these topics together—because books, and life, are meant for sharing.

CONVERSATION GUIDE

Q. More than once you have dealt with the theme of interfaith romance or love in your work; has this been a conscious decision on your part?

A. Perhaps because I myself have made such a marriage, I am drawn to the subject of how Jews and Christians mix and mingle. Orthodox Jews keep to themselves and tend to avoid serious interaction with non-Jews, but many Jews who are not Orthodox assimilate, and as they do, they come into contact with the non-Jewish population. How do Jews retain their identity as Jews when they are part of the larger world? What are the joys and perils of such relationships? I am attempting to work out the answers to these questions through the vehicle of my fiction.

Q. You have chosen to tell this novel from five different points of view; can you say more about that authorial choice?

A. I love novels that are told from shifting or multiple points of view and I often use this device in my fiction. I'm interested in how each person's perspective informs and enhances the story. Everyone has his or her own truth to champion and the multiple-point-of-view approach allows all these truths—for there are many—to have their say.

Q. Do you have difficulty writing from a male point of view?

A. Not at all! I enjoy trying to imagine “the other” and welcome the chance to slip into a consciousness that is not my own but somehow is not alien to me.

Q. You have written fiction, nonfiction, and books for children; how do you see the relationship among these different aspects of your writing life?

A. Since I usually have more than a single project going at any one time, moving back and forth between them gives me a freedom and flexibility I appreciate. If I'm stuck with a novel, I turn to a children's book or an essay, and if I'm able to make progress in one of those areas, then I find I can return to the novel more easily, as if I've somehow unlocked something in the process of turning my attention elsewhere.

Q. How do you structure your writing day?

A. It varies from project to project. I have no set hours, but I try to write every day. Recently I have begun staying up later and later; I can be quite productive in the quiet, wee hours of the morning. The only trouble is not sleeping late enough in the day to compensate.

Q. Some writers pine for the seclusion of writers' colonies and retreats; others need a designated outside writing space that they pay for or opt for a spot at the local coffee bar. Where do you tend to write?

A. I never want to leave my house to write. I have a tiny but cheery little room overlooking my tiny (though not so cheery!) yard. And I am very attached to my stuff: my pillow, my chair, my favorite mug. I don't want to write anywhere else.

Q. Do you think that the advent of the electronic age will spell the end of novels as we have come to know them?

A. No! I think people have always craved narratives (what is the Bible but a series of narratives that include love, war, incest, adultery, and the like?) and will continue to crave them. The delivery system for those narratives may change and more people will be reading on electronic devices. But I'm convinced that the appetite for narrative is hardwired: narratives or stories are how we make sense out of the randomness that comprises our lives; narratives show us how to find and create meaning from our experience.

Q. What are you working on now?

A. I've got two ideas for novels—one set in the present, the other in 1947. I don't want to say too much about either one of them now except that I'm aching to get back to both of them.

CONVERSATION GUIDE

1. What are your first impressions of the two main characters, Christina Connelly and Andy Stern? Are they positive or negative?

2. Did those initial impressions change over the course of the novel, and if so, how does that happen?

3. How does the old adage “Opposites attract” play out here?

4. Do you feel that the differences in these two characters can be successfully overcome and that their marriage will stand the test of time?

5. What role does Andy's mother play? Do you feel Ida is a sympathetic character?

6. How do Jordan and Oliver affect the relationship of their parents? Do you think they will be able to blend successfully and become a family?

7. Oliver accepts Christina much more easily than Jordan does Andy. Do you think that has more to do with who Andy is or who Jordan is?

8. Both Christina and Andy were happily married prior to the novel's opening. What effect do those prior relationships have on the one they are trying to build?

9. What significance does Christina's house play in the novel? How did you feel about what happens to it?

10. Christina is a believer in the poetry of objects. Are there particular objects that elicit this kind of response in you?