A Wedding in Montauk

Second and final Part

Showering, blow-drying her hair, pulling the red summer dress over her head. Sloppily removed skirts and sweaters lie on the bed, the smell of wet bathing suits and sunscreen linger in the room. The dress is the same color as the irritated spots on her legs. The three young women laugh while they pull the soft fabric of Rachel’s dress into place and tie the straps of her white sandals. Judith binds Rachel’s hair into a ponytail. Rachel’s sister Meredith, whose gleaming skin looks like it has been cleansed with a scrub-brush, tucks purple flowers with dry petals into the hair band. They hear the first guests arriving on the veranda outside. Shreds of conversation seep through the curtains in front of the open window. Meredith hastily pulls a dress over her head, her nose gets tangled up in a strap, she pulls with irritation and the seam tears open.

“What the hell! I cannot believe I just ripped my dress with my nose. I hate this nose. I want a nose job right now. Damn it!” she yells.

Laughter outside. Meredith doesn’t expect disagreement. Who will seriously doubt that surgery isn’t a sensible method to get rid of her problem? You’re only half a New York woman, Meredith explains, if you haven’t at least once in your life worn a nose bandage, a thigh girdle after liposuction, or breast compressions, or cancelled a party because your doctor has “missyringed” your lips and you look like a truck wheel has been inserted in your face.

“They’re vastly differing opinions on this,” Rachel grins as she sees Judith’s stunned expression.

“But you’re nose is perfectly alright,” Judith says, “I would be much more afraid of an operation.”

“Nahh,” Meredith waves her hand. “Last summer in Israel everybody has had their nose done. It was like going to the dentist.” As she looks into Judith’s uncomprehending face, she adds, “Jewish noses, you know, the girls are obsessed with it.”

Judith continues to stare at her. “But you cannot say this,” Judith is too shocked not to respond. “ There’re no Jewish noses. That’s propaganda. Judaism is a religion and not a race!”

Meredith laughs loudly and very contagiously. “Believe me, my nose is not a religion. Jews can look like just anything. But my nose in particular does look more Jewish and certainly is bigger than any average Jewish looking nose. That’s not racism but reality. If I don’t find a decent man by the time I’m thirty, I’m getting rid of it.”

The Americans are much more pragmatic, Judith thinks. They neither live with problems nor with problematic body zones, they don’t assume that a life with wobbly thighs will strengthen your character, they eliminate the problem. If the Americans had been the originators of the Holocaust, there probably would be a self-help book on the shelves: “10 Steps to a Clear Conscience: Dealing with Your Crimes during the Holocaust Day by Day.” or “How to Make Jewish Friends and Become Rich and Successful—Special Section for High-ranking Nazis.” Judith tries to pin Meredith’s dress together and concentrates on not pricking Meredith’s white flesh with the needle.

A little later around fifty guests in colorful dresses and light suits gather on the porch and on the lawn. The hair of the women flutters in the wind, the men open the top buttons of their shirts. In many places the white paint has flaked off the wooden railing, a rusty grill on the side. Cheerful, excited voices and the milky light of the sky envelop the veranda. Rachel holds hands with the groom and smiles in an indefinite direction; somebody says something in an authoritative voice and the group sets in motion. The bridal pair goes in front, Brian’s dark suit hangs loosely around his lean body. The men wear a Kipah; Rachel’s father distributes blue ones to the guests who did not bring one. Two sturdy boys with short hair carry the Chupah together with two older ones. Rachel’s shoulder blades protrude between the narrow straps of her dress. They walk a short distance on the road. The power poles of weathered wood bow to different sides; too often the wind has changed angle to direct their bent in the same direction.