"My Mother the Lesbian"

The door to our apartment is unlocked—preventing me from using the famous emergency key. But there is no panic-stricken Sam popping her head out between the orange and green curtains. And the kitchen lights are off. The only sound is of my sneakers squeaking against the vinyl floor. “Hello?” I ask. A drawer bangs shut in my mother’s room.


“Mom?”


I hear quick footsteps, the kind a person can only make in pointy heels, and open mom’s bedroom door. Wearing a yellow leopard blouse with a black miniskirt and matching safari high heels is Zelda. Several nightgowns are draped over her arm and a stack of overalls cover the foot of mom’s bed. “Hi Grandma,” I say and watch Zelda’s red lips form a tight circle.


“This isn’t what it looks like,” she says and darts her dark eyes toward the kitchen.


“What does it look like?” I smile. “Don’t worry, she’s not home yet.”


“Oh, thank G-d! Come here and give me a hug,” she says and opens her arms. “The last thing we need is to both get in trouble,” she adds.


“You heard?” I sit on the bed.


“Nah, I just had a hunch.” She tilts her tiny head up at me. “You think your mother tells me anything?”


“Is that why you’re snooping around?” I wiggle my eyebrows.


“Oh, like you don’t.” She takes my chin in her hand and tilts my head side to side. “So spill the beans. What happened?”


I tell her everything about Meeka Jones. “She sounds like a real bitch,” she says, and resumes ransacking mom’s bedroom.


“Grandma!”


“Oh, like you weren’t thinking it anyway. And stop calling me grandma. Makes me feel old.” She pulls out a fistful of underwear. “My G-d, I think your mother is a lesbian! I’ve never seen such baggy bloomers! And for Christ’s sake, does she even own a pair of pantyhose?”


“I don’t think you have to worry about that. She has a date with our landlord,” I say and watch Zelda carelessly dump the big panties back in mom’s drawer.


“A landlord? Good G-d of all people.” She holds up the large flannel pajamas and roomy t-shirts that comprise mom’s sleep wardrobe. “It’d be almost better if she were a lesbian!” To Zelda-Silver-Rubenstein-Jacobson-Judd, there was nothing more tragic than falling for anything less than a wealthy man. It is one of the things I admire her for. It is the very thing that drives my mother crazy and perhaps this is what makes me love Zelda even more.