Then your dad opened his mouth and spoke. “It’s nice, but, don’t you have a lot of those? I mean, I feel like all you buy is long sweaters…”
I spun in the long sweater, giving the potential purchase another glance in the mirror.
“But look,” pointing to the boxy shoulders and leather on the sleeves, “it reminds me of a sweater jacket my mom wore in the 80’s!”
And I said this like this was the very best thing…
Everywhere I went it smelled like onions.
Then, eureka, I remembered.
I had a falafel pita loaded with all those onions at the oyster festival.
(*Because nothing says falafel like an oyster festival.)
Here’s a tip:
…Church was quiet except for the priest’s homily sounding through his microphone, and your barrel of monkeys, Baby Boy, that you periodically dropped sending reverberations off the tile floor.
That’s it! Don’t touch it! Leave it on the bench! I leaned over to admonish through a hard whisper, because I couldn’t flat-out take it away from you, what foolish lion tamer tries to take away the steak? What’s worse, an occasional spill of ten thousand plastic monkeys on the floor, or a bellow that could take down not just the house but a house of g.o.d.? I took my chances, hissing again, don’t drop it. Leave it. Pleease…
And that’s when your sister looked up and questioned, “Are we going to go back to Nanny’s house?”
Nanny was with us, but we were not going to her house. We were going home. How to break this news to a Nana-obsessor? Surely if she learned her Nana fix would be ending shortly, oh, the meltdown. Talk about bringing down the house then lighting it up in flames.
I looked at Nana, who was seated next to me. Help, said my expression. Do I lie here, in a church, tell her yes, we’re going to Nana’s house, sure, just to keep the peace?
“Sometimes,” Nana whispered, “it’s okay to tell a lie…”
Sometimes, it’s not so much right or wrong, it’s choosing the lesser of two evils.