An Almost Perfect Moment

by Kirshenbaum, Binnie

• ISBN13: 9780060520878
• ISBN10: 0060520876
• Edition: Reprint
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2009-07-08
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publications

Summary

Set in Brooklyn between the Eisenhower Era and the Age of Disco, this bittersweet novel tells the story of a mother and daughter, whose search for faith and love leads to unexpected consequences.

Excerpts

Almost Perfect Moment, An
A Novel

Chapter One

In Brooklyn, in a part of Brooklyn that was the last stop on the LL train and a million miles away from Manhattan, a part of Brooklyn -- an enclave, almost -- composed of modest homes and two-family houses set on lawns the size of postage stamps, out front theoccasional plaster-of-paris saint or a birdbath, a short bus rideaway from the new paradise known as the Kings County Mall, apart of Brooklyn where the turbulent sixties never quite toucheddown, but at this point in time, on the cusp of the great age ofdisco, when this part of Brooklyn would come into its own, as ifduring the years before it had been aestivating like a mud fish, lyingin wait for the blast, for the glitter, the platform shoes, GloriaGaynor, for doing the hustle, for its day in the sun, this part ofBrooklyn was home to Miriam Kessler and her daughter Valentine, who was fifteen and three-quarter years old, which is to be neitherhere nor yet there as far as life is concerned.

Therefore, on this Tuesday afternoon, mid-November, it was in a way both figurative and literal that Valentine stood at the threshold between the foyer and the living room, observing Miriam andher three girlfriends -- she, Miriam, called them that, despite theirmiddling years, my girlfriends, or simply, The Girls -- who were seatedaround the card table, attending closely to their game.

Four Bam against Six Crack, the mah-jongg tiles clacking intoone another sounded like typewriter keys or fingernails tapping ona tabletop, something like anticipation, as if like Morse code, a message would be revealed, the inside track to the next step on the ladder to womanhood, such as the achievement of the big O or the useof feminine hygiene products, things Valentine had heard tell ofbut had yet to experience, things for later, when you're older.

For Miriam and The Girls, mah-jongg was not recreation, butpassion. Nonetheless, and in their Brooklyn parlance, a nasal artic-ulation, they were able to play while carrying on a conversation, which was not so much like juggling two oranges, because, forthem, talking was as natural as breathing.

"Am I telling the truth?" Judy Weinstein said. "I'm telling thetruth. Could she be a decorator or what?"

"She's right, Miriam. You could be a decorator. Two Dragon. It's a showplace here."

"When I'm right, I'm right. She could be a decorator."

Even if her taste wasn't to your liking, there was no doubtMiriam had an eye for placement and color. The living room, recently redecorated, was stunning, in an Oriental motif. Red plushcarpeting picked up the red of the wallpaper that was flocked withvelveteen flowers. A pair of cloisonné lamps capped with silk bell-shaped shades sat on black enamel end tables flanking the gold brocade couch. A series of three Chinese watercolors -- lily pads andorange carp -- framed in ersatz bamboo hung on the far wall. A bonsai tree, the cutest little thing that grew itty-bitty oranges whichwere supposedly edible, was the coffee-table centerpiece.

"This room takes my breath away. I ask you, does she have theeye for decorating or what?"

"They make good money, those interior decorators."

Waving off foolish talk, Miriam asked, "Are we playing or arewe gabbing?" To fix up her own home was one thing. To go out inthe world as a professional, who needs the headache?

Miriam took one tile -- Seven Dot -- which was of no help at all, from Sunny Shapiro, while Sunny Shapiro with a face that, inMiriam's words, could stop a clock, applied, on a mouth that wasstarting to wizen like a raisin, a fresh coat of coral-colored lipstick, the exact shade of coral as the beaded sweater she wore.

Studying her tiles, a losing hand if ever there was one, MiriamKessler fed a slice of Entenmann's walnut ring into her mouth. Likeshe was performing a magic trick, Miriam could make a slice ofcake, indeed an entire cake, vanish before your very eyes. Miriamswallowed the cake, her pleasure, and then there was no pleasureleft until the next piece of cake.

Her grief cloaked in layers of fat, Miriam Kessler was pushing239 pounds when she last stepped on the bathroom scale back inSeptember or maybe it was August. Mostly she wore dresses ofthe muumuu variety, but nonetheless, Miriam Kessler was beautifully groomed. Every Thursday, she was at the beauty parlor forher wash and set, forty-five minutes under the dryer, hair teasedand sprayed into the bouffant of her youth;the same hairdo she'dhad since she was seventeen, only the color had changed from aGod-given warm brown to a Lady Clairol deep auburn.

Despite that Miriam never skimped on the heat, rather she keptthe thermostat at a steady seventy-two degrees, Edith Zuckerman snuggled with her white mink stole, and so what if it was as old asMethuselah, and from a generation ago, hardly with-it. The whitemink stole was the first truly beautiful thing Edith had ever ownedand she wore it as if the beauty of it were a talisman. As if nothingbad could ever happen to a woman wearing a white mink stole, never mind that she had the one son with the learning problemsand her husband's business having had its share of ups and downs.

Oh-such-glamorous dames, adorned in style which peaked andfroze at their high-school proms, The Girls were as dolled up as ifon their way to romance or to the last nights of the Copacabananightclub, as if they refused to let go of the splendor.

Almost Perfect Moment, An
A Novel. Copyright © by Binnie Kirshenbaum. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from An Almost Perfect Moment: A Novel by Binnie Kirshenbaum
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