24-Karat Kids

Chapter One "What is that?" I asked the waiter, looking down at what looked like four giant gumballs floating in tomato soup. The waiter was young and had a nice smile, but I quickly realized that he spoke less English than I did Azerbaijani. Mom piped in before I had a chance to resort to sign language. "Shelley, be adventurous," she said, looking at me over the top of her glasses-on-a-string. She stabbed a gumball with her fork and popped it in her mouth. I thought I detected an instant of shock before she gamely chewed . . . and chewed . . . and chewed. "Fascinating," she pronounced. "Mother, if I want fascinating, I'll go see a foreign documentary at the Film Forum. I'm here to eat." Not that I'd had time to go to a movie in seven years, but I had a point to make. "Eat? Nonsense, we're here to celebrate," my father said, leaning over, grabbing my face, squeezing it all out of shape, and planting a kiss on my smushed-forward cheek. Which was true. My reward for finally finishing four years of college, four years of medical school, and three years of pediatric residency was this: a family party around an enormous round table at Queens's finest, and no doubt only, Azerbaijani restaurant. Mom had picked Baku Buffet because it sounded "intriguing." Intriguing, fascinating, and remarkable were Mom's three favorite words, and she was in permanent pursuit of new experiences that would allow her to use them. This had turned her into a Learning Annex junkie, obsessively taking courses on everything from "Folk Art Milking Stools" to "Insects, Eunuchs, and Euripides." I was amazed that one brain could hold the breadth of information that hers did. This was a pretty typical gathering for my family. All around the table aunts, uncles, and cousins were shouting and laughing, eating off each other's plates, drinking out of each others' glasses, acting like we weren't separate people but a single-bodied behemoth: The Green Family. My brother Ira, a rugged individualist, was huddled in an alcove by the restrooms talking to his bookie on his cell phone. Ira had a little gambling problem---in the same way Orson Welles had a little weight problem. Ira also had a thing for marijuana---with his breakfast coffee. And did I mention the alcoholic binges in seedy motels with ladies you could rent by the hour? I reclaimed my face from Dad's grip and looked across the table at Arthur, the man I'd been dating for two years. Arthur had been grinning for the past hour, and I wondered why he was in such a good mood. Actually, Arthur had been grinning for the past two years. It was one of his many charming qualities, but sometimes it got on my nerves. How could anyone be so endlessly cheerful, especially when dating me? He gave me a sympathetic look and mouthed, "I love you, pumpkin." "Have you tried the gumballs?" I asked him. "They're actually sheep testicles," he informed me. "Well, that makes me feel better," I said, pushing my plate away. I was hungry and exhausted and anxious and wanted nothing more than to be at home in my closet-sized Manhattan studio watching some mindless reality show and working my way through a pint of Chunky Monkey. More or less my entire adult life up to this point, all the years of education and training and sleepless nights, had been leading to this moment, and now, instead of kicking up my sensible heels, I just wanted a little peace and quiet to think things over and make some decisions. Arthur got up and walked around the table to where I was sitting. He kneaded my shoGoldstein, Judy is the author of '24-Karat Kids ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780312343286 and ISBN 0312343280.