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"She's going to love you," Sandy repeats for the third time in an hour. He checks his watch. "We're right on schedule."
Kirsten hadn't said a word the entire train ride. She's been playing with the zipper of her new Burberry raincoat, a guilty gift from her father, and Sandy's ears are starting to ring with the annoying zip! of the coat.
"Kirsten?"
"What…oh, we're here, aren't we?"
Kirsten gathers up her things and follows Sandy off the train and onto the platform. Once they've reached the doors, the pair can see the rain coming down in sheets.
"Let's call a cab," Sandy suggests, whistling loudly. Even in the pouring rain, a cab driver hears the signal and pulls up to the curb. "One, two, three," and they make a run for the cab. Laughing and splattered with raindrops, they slide into the warm taxi. Kirsten disdainfully sniffs the stale air.
"77th and North," Sandy tells the cabbie. Looking in his rearview mirror, the cabbie sees a dark haired man with wild eyebrows—albeit very attractive eyebrows—and a gorgeous blond who looks nervous, more nervous than a woman like her should look.
The cab driver pulls up to a modest stone four story and Sandy pays the driver, thanks him for the ride.
They again make a run for the shelter of the building, shake water off themselves as they enter the musty lobby.
"Sandy Cohen?" A tall, gangly, spectacled man with sideburns greets him.
"Ed?" Sandy smiles at the man and walks over to hug him. "Ed, this is my…Kirsten."
"'Lo, Kirsten." Ed smiles warmly at Kirsten. "You want me to buzz you up?"
Kirsten is surprised that a building like this has a doorman, anyone who rings visitors up. She's never lived in an apartment but her father's always kept one in New York and it's a lot fancier than this building.
Sandy nods his head gratefully and Ed goes behind the desk and presses a buzzer.
"Sophie? Sandy's here."
"Send him up," comes the crackly answer from the intercom. Ed waves and Sandy leads Kirsten to a door.
He opens the door and Kirsten is not surprised to see that there are metal stairs looming ahead of them. Sandy shrugs apologetically.
"It's an old building, and only four stories…so there really was never a need for elevators." He knows Kirsten only knows better than this, but this is all he has to offer. This is where he lived for a good part of his life, and along with the man Sandy is now Kirsten must accept the boy he used to be.
Kirsten is silent as they clomp up the stairs. She doesn't complain once- not even when the heel of her stiletto gets caught on the stair. Once they reach the fourth floor- for of course Sandy's mother had to live on the top floor, the penthouse, thinks Kirsten ironically.
She can't be one hundred percent positive, but she's fairly certain her family's apartment is larger than the whole fourth floor, maybe even the third and fourth floors combined.
Sandy walks towards a crimson red door and squeezes Kirsten's hand. "She's going to love you," he repeats. Before he can lift his hand up to knock- there is no doorbell- the door opens and Sophie Cohen wraps Sandy in a large hug.
"Sandy! I've missed you so much. It's about time you paid me a visit." She does not notice Kirsten, who seems to have blended in with the hall. "Come in, come in." She ushers Sandy in and with him comes Kirsten, whose hand is still tightly clasped in Sandy's. "Oh…hello."
"Mom, this is Kirsten. Kirsten, this is my mother, Sophie Cohen." Sandy grins, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. His mother didn't even notice Kirsten. And Sophie Cohen notices everything. This cannot be good.
"Mrs. Cohen," Sophie confirms, eyeing Kirsten suspiciously.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cohen," Kirsten extends her hand for a handshake, anything really, just a sign that Sandy's mother likes her. "I've heard so much about you."
Sophie Cohen turns on her slippered heel and walks back into her apartment, ignoring Kirsten's desperate plea for approval. "Not much to say about me, not much at all."
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Yes, thanks," Sandy and Kirsten say at the same time, thinking the same thing: A cup of tea would be great, something, anything to dispel the awkward feeling they've just had.
Sophie disappears into a tiny room, a room Kirsten assumes must be the kitchen. "Where are you staying, dear?" This time, Kirsten keeps her mouth shut and lets Sandy answer, because his mother so obviously dislikes her. She's failed.
"Kirsten's apartment." Sandy holds his breath, waiting for his mother's reaction. She's a little stubborn at times but he's sure if she gets to know Kirsten she'll love her. It's impossible not to.
"Kirsten lives in the city?" Sophie asks casually. Sandy exhales. Dammit, she's just foxholed him.
"No, her family keeps an apartment up here." Sandy sits down at the table in the kitchen, and Kirsten manages to squeeze in as well. Any more people and there would be no room left in this mouse of a kitchen.
Sophie's eyes narrow. So her son's chosen a girl from a wealthy background. He's so blind, can't he see he'll never live up to Kirsten's expectations? She'll want the designer clothes and expensive vacations that Sandy never even dreamed of. Or worse, she'll prove to be daddy's little girl, and her father will provide for her and Sandy.
That is much more embarrassing. Sophie Cohen has never had much, but she's taught her son to uphold his pride and not accept charity. She certainly won't have him living off Kirsten's trust fund either.
"So what do you do? I assume you work." This time, the question is directed at Kirsten, and she sighs nervously. She knows that nothing she will say will please Sophie, nothing at all.
"I'm not working right now…but I plan to take over the residential division of my father's real estate company in a few years." At least she's been truthful. Sandy smiles reassuringly at Kirsten. He loves her, no matter what his mother thinks of her.
"That's…nice." Sophie decides she doesn't have to be rude the entire time Kirsten's here, even if the girl is unemployed and eventually planning to work for her father. She really has had everything handed to her on a silver platter, but, thinks Sophie, it's not Kirsten's fault…not completely her fault…"What do you enjoy doing?"
Kirsten takes a deep breath. This one's easy. "Well, of course I love spending time with Sandy," laughs Kirsten, seeing a smile spread infectiously on Sophie's face as the older woman sets a steaming mug of tea in front of her. The smile fades into an over-emphasized frown in just a few seconds, with, "And I like shopping, I guess I'm fashion conscious but where I come from, it's a crime not to be."
This girl is too fine, too rich for Sandy, thinks Sophie. She's too empty-headed, too materialistic for him. She doesn't know what Sandy sees in this girl. But he loves her, and for Sophie, that's good enough.
It has to be. For just as Sophie has taught her son pride, she's taught him to be stubborn.
As in, no matter what Sophie thinks, Sandy is going to love this girl and she can tell this one is a keeper.
At least he's happy.
"Are you hungry?" Sophie asks Sandy. While she might be starting to like Kirsten a tiny bit, those thoughts will stay in her head. No need to inflate the girl's head even larger than it is. She obviously thinks much of herself, the way she surreptitiously (or so she thinks!) inspects the mug before pressing her lip-sticked lips to the ceramic rim.
Sandy looks at Kirsten, who meekly shakes her head. "No." Sophie sits down across from Kirsten and drinks heartily from her own mug. Kirsten, she notes, is daintily sipping it one fourth of an ounce at a time. Obviously this is a girl who has grown up around manners and dinner parties and the sort.
Sophie doesn't understand what Sandy sees in Kirsten. She's always believed that opposites attract; but never thought the rule should apply to her own family, her own precious son.
Sandy checks his watch. "We should go soon," he tells Sophie, who frowns at him. Not that it's hard for her, notes Kirsten, for her thin mouth is almost always turned down unhappily.
He places his large hand over Kirsten's slender one. Sophie shakes her head. He really does love her.
"Where are you going?" asks Sophie coolly. Sandy has quite some nerve. He's only just gotten here for a visit. What could be so important that he has to cut short the tie with her?
Sandy, who would normally lower his head during these types of interrogations, stares levelly at his mother. "We've got tickets to a Broadway show and our dinner plans are in…" he consults his watch, "twenty minutes."
Sophie is shocked, but secretly pleased at her son's brash manner. His whole life she's been trying to teach him to stand up to people, but it seems as though Kirsten has beaten her to the lesson. Maybe she's beginning to like Kirsten even more, but will never admit it.
"Well," Sophie says after a moment of silence, "I wouldn't want to keep you." She thinks about telling Kirsten to have a good time but then thinks against it. Again, acceptance would only be an ego-inflater, Sophie thinks.
Sandy stands up and Kirsten does the same. Sophie walks the pair to the door and Sandy turns and kisses his mother stiffly on the cheek. "It was good to see you."
Sophie only nods curtly as Kirsten opens the door, in a hurry to leave. "Goodbye, Mrs. Cohen," Kirsten manages to say, although she's on the verge of tears.
Once Kirsten's out the door Sophie says to Sandy in a low voice. "You know I don't particularly like her but I like what's good for you."
And Sandy knows his mother will be okay when he marries Kirsten. Or should he say if…wouldn't want to break that Jewish superstition now.
Sandy walks out the door and Sophie immediately shuts it, peers into the peephole and sees Sandy hug Kirsten tightly and kiss her blond head. She presses her ear up against the door.
"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" asks Sandy, although he knows Kirsten will (rightly) say that it was bad. Of course, she'll dramatize the whole thing a little too much but he loves her and is willing to overlook her few faults.
"Oh, Sandy, she hated me!" Kirsten sobs, and she's half right, thinks Sophie. Hated, as in, no longer hates.
Sophie's beginning to like her a lot more, although she will never admit it to anyone; she has a hard enough time as it is admitting it to herself.
The girl's ego may not be as big as Sophie made it out to be. She may not be as materialistic; after all, she seems to love Sandy and he definitely is not one of much material.
The last words Sophie hears before ceasing to eavesdrop are "She didn't hate you, Kirsten, and even if she did, it wouldn't matter because I love you."
That's my boy, thinks Sophie.