My mom and Nene
Diana and her fiancé and his family
Diana’s parents
Tantig Emma’s family
Tantig Sona
... Erebuni, who will be rather high-profile since I found out she’s emceeing it
It’s sort of an unspoken rule that most of the Explore Armenia events are for the younger crowd, but the banquet is for all ages. It’s a major fundraiser for the Armenian school and other charities, so you can’t exactly cut out the deep-pocketed baby boomers. Back when my mom signed us up for it, I was relieved she was getting herself back out there again (with a side dish ofgroanat having to attend some made-for-the-olds banquet). But now? The banquet has shot itself far out of boring territory.
I have no idea how I’m going to act around Erebuni, how to reconcile these two parts of myself. At dinner last night, and in Berkeley, we were PDA city, which felt so freeing and just exactly what I wanted. Unfortunately, it also means we set the precedent that we hold hands and kiss and whatever in public. Which I definitely can’t do tomorrow. I’d be the outcast of the family, and my mom would be wailing and lamenting about her fate.Everyonewould be talking about me, Anahid’s gay daughter. And an only child—no backups, how unfortunate. I can’t do that to my mom. At least, I can’t throw her in like that. I have to help her dip one toe in at a time.
But I haven’t even started. Up on my wall, where my high school poster used to be, is an abstract painting Erebuni created from Armenian coffee grounds. I spotted it on her worktable last night, and she mentioned she wasn’t going to paint any more of them because it wasn’t working for her creatively. But I was into it, both the shapes my mind started imagining and the fact that it reminded me of kissing her that first night, the taste of coffee stillon our tongues. She said I could have it, so I hung it—my first attempt at adult decor in my room. When my mom asked where I got it, I told her it was for sale at the Armenian lecture. She praised me for supporting an Armenian artist. If she only knew.
My phone pings. It’s Arek texting our new group chat with the five of us. He’s sent two selfies of himself looking stern, first in a black button-down, then a navy one. The texts come in lightning fast.
Arek:Which look am I going for tmrw? A or B
Vache:Does it really matter when you’re going to blind your audience with the sheen?
Arek:Sorry bro we can’t all be mister rogers
Vache:I don’t own a single zip up cardigan
Arek:Ur right, they have buttons
Vache:... they do have buttons
Janette:Everyone has their unique style of dressing that reflects their personality
Arek:But u like mine better right
Erebuni:Don’t feed the ego, Janette. But to answer your question Arek jan, option B. Navy suits you
