"I guess I may as well tell you all now. I've decided to enlist. I'm going to Vietnam," Ronald announces.
Eunice and Ramona both gasp, but William claps his son on the shoulder.
"That's my boy. I'm proud of you, son. I wish every young man felt the way you do." He gives Ramona a meaningful glance.
"I think that's terrible!" she gasps. "He'll be killed!"
"To me, it would be an honor to give my life for my country," says Ronald.
"But it isn't your country," Ramona points out.
"It's for freedom and democracy, the values we treasure," Ronald counters.
Eunice says nothing but just sits there, looking as if she's about to cry. I feel terribly self-conscious, as if I'm intruding in a discussion not meant for my ears.
"Thank you for the meal, but I should be going," I say when the opportunity presents itself.
"I'm very sorry your lunch was ruined," Eunice tells me. "I assure you, I never meant for things to turn out the way they did."
"Oh, that's quite all right!" I assure her.
While walking to the door, something sitting on a shelf against the wall catches my eye, drawing me to itself. It's shaped like an egg and painted dark blue. Precious white and yellow gems, some encased in flower shapes, are encrusted all over its outside, and it sits in a three-legged stand made of gold.
"It's lovely!" I say, longing to touch it but not daring to do so.
"It's a Faberge egg," Eunice tells me. "Not a real one, of course, but a replica. I found it in a little souvenir shop on Coney Island when we went to New York when the children were young."
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I tell her.
"It's certainly unique," she agrees.
As ridiculous as it sounds, I feel reluctant to walk away from the egg, as if I'm walking away from my own past.
As it turns out, the regular violinist for the Satin Subway must go out of town for an extended period of time, and Ramona and her band mates - Buzz, Jay, and Paco - ask me to join their band on a permanent basis. Ramona's parents agree to sponsor me so I can get a Visa extension, and she suggests the band perform a rock version of 'She Waits,' which appalls me.
"It was intended for violin and piano, not guitar and drums!" I protest. "What if Beethoven's Fifth Symphony was performed in such a manner?"
"It might actually sound pretty groovy," Ramona speculates. "You really dig classical music most, don't you?"
"It was my first love," I admit. "The culture I grew up in is totally permeated in it. Both my parents are accomplished pianists, and I took piano lessons as a child, as my brother and sister do now."
Memories of Christmas carols sung around the piano while Mama's long, graceful fingers swept over the keys return to me, bringing with them a sharp stab of homesickness. I never intended for my visit to the Unites States to last this long, but then again, I never realized I'd meet the woman who would come to mean so much to me.
"I thought you said your Dad was a butcher," says Ramona.
"He is, as a profession, but the same fingers that slaughter pigs also coax beautiful music from piano keys. I've always found that rather ironic." I look down at my own fingers, slender and dexterous like those of my mother, and wonder what my biological father's looked like. Did he play piano as well, or any instrument, for that matter? I'll have to remember to ask Aunt Alisa next time I talk with her.
Ramona giggles. "I'll think of that every time I eat a hot dog."
I smile, sharing her amusement. "For some reason, I simply cannot get that Faberge egg out of my mind. It haunts my dreams."
"The what? Oh yeah, that fancy egg of Mom's. I never paid it any attention. To me, it was just so much more bourgeoisie clutter."
For some reason, her words sting like a barb, as I sense the egg must be integral to my heritage. I can't think of any way it could possibly be on my mother's side, so it must be on my father's - my true father's.
In the end, I consent for 'She Waits' to be recorded using the full repertoire of Satin Subway's instruments. It's recorded and added to the demo tape they will use in the search for a recording contract.
"Ronnie leaves for Vietnam tomorrow," Ramona tells me one day. "Will you please go to the airport with me?"
"Of course I will!"
She's silent on the way to the airport, but as she gives Ronald a goodbye hug, I see tears in her eyes. We watch as he joins the long line of soldiers in uniform boarding the airplane, and when he disappears inside it, she turns to me, and I see them rolling down her cheeks.
"I just have the most awful feeling I'll never see him again!" she sobs. I take her into my arms and hold her close, and she rests her head on my shoulder. What can I say? I understand the peril as well as she does. No words would be adequate. With my thumbs I wipe the tears from her face and place a soft kiss on her forehead, wishing I could do more to comfort her.
"Perhaps I could take you somewhere nice to eat," I suggest.
She looks up at me and shakes her head. "I want to go to Height-Ashbury," she tells me. "I want to just forget it all and hang out with some groovy people."
We watch the airplane until it's a tiny dot in the sky, then turn and walk away together.