Douglas Kennedy - Five Days

‘You’ve lost me.’

‘The Power of Positive Thinking by Rev. Norman Vincent Peale. Probably the first American self-help book.’

‘By a man of God.’

‘A 1950s man of God — who now seems positively secular compared to the Bible thumpers out there right now.’

‘But I thought you supported their “family values” sentiments.’

‘You have quite a memory,’ he said.

‘Well, at least you didn’t quote the Book of Revelations to me.’

‘I’m hardly religious.’

‘Then what’s with the support for the born-agains?’

‘I just don’t like knee-jerk liberal dismissal of all things Christian.’

‘Now speaking as a liberal — albeit a sensible one — I think what worries even the more sensible Republicans I know is the fact that the charismatic Christians have a political agenda that runs up against basic American ideas about separation of church and state, about basic human rights like a woman’s right to control her own body or a gay couple’s civil rights when it comes to having the legal protection afforded by marriage.’

‘You know I’m not against anything you just said.’

‘And I know I sound like I’m on a soapbox.’

‘That’s fine with me. You’re a sensible liberal, I’m a sensible Republican. though some people nowadays might think that a tautology.’

He flashed a mischievous little grin at me. I couldn’t help but think: He’s smart. And he can argue smart, and can use language so incisively, and in such a quick-witted way.

‘So tell me about your story,’ I asked, changing the subject.

‘You mean, you no longer want to hear my views about the Almighty?’

‘A personal friend of yours?’

‘Hey. I sold him a Full Life Policy last year which pays out five percent above the deductible.’

I laughed.

‘So God lives in Maine?’ I asked.

‘Well, there is a reason why they call it “Vacationland”. As such, He doesn’t answer prayers very often.’

‘Have you asked Him for a favour?’

‘Haven’t we all?’

‘But I thought you were a non-believer.’

‘I’m reserving judgment,’ he said. ‘Raised Presbyterian — but that was a family heritage thing. And I think my father approved of Presbyterianism because it was so dour, so austere.’

‘And your mother?’

‘She went along with everything my father said. Then again, his authority was never to be challenged.’

‘Did you try?’

‘Of course.’

‘And?’

A pause — in which Richard looked down into his empty glass. Then:

‘I’m running his company.’

‘But you’re still writing.’

‘He couldn’t stop me from doing that.’

‘And if you asked God to get you into the New Yorker.?’

‘Even He doesn’t have that kind of pull.’

Again I laughed.

‘But you believe in. ’

He looked up and met my gaze straight on.

‘I believe in wanting to believe in something.’

Silence — as that statement hung in the air between us. Ambiguous. Perhaps charged with meaning. Perhaps not. But the way he was looking at me right now.

A voice behind me curtailed the moment.

‘How you folks doing?’

It was the waiter.

‘Now I wouldn’t want to speak for the two of us,’ Richard said, ‘but I think — just fine.’

‘I concur,’ I said.

A smile crossed between us.

‘So are you ready for a second glass of wine?’ the waiter asked.

‘Well. ’ I said, thinking of at least five excuses I could give for an early night.

‘If it’s too late or you’ve got stuff to do in the morning. ’ Richard said.

I knew the simplest way to end the evening would be to say something along the lines of: ‘Alas, the first group conference — Advanced Bone Marrow MRI Techniques — is scheduled for ten. and the radiologist back at my hospital will want to know all about it.’ (Not true at all — we always send bone marrow cases to Portland.) And yes, fretting about a second glass of wine while driving would be a good exit strategy. Because I was finding this interesting conversation a little too interesting. And because, moments earlier, when Richard looked up at me and said: ‘I believe in wanting to believe in something,’ I couldn’t help but think that his hesitancy was due to the fact that he stopped himself from saying ‘someone’. And also because, as his eyes met mine when he uttered that sentence, I actually found myself disconcerted by the fact that the insurance salesman I first saw as gray and just a little drab was now holding my interest.

So yes, there were sensible reasons why I was about to tell Richard: ‘You know, I really think it’s getting a little late for me.’ But instead, something else — something hitherto unknown to cautious little me — kicked in. And I heard myself saying:

‘I’m up for the second glass of wine if you are.’

Richard looked momentarily taken aback by this — as if he too would have found it easier if I had called it quits and let us both go our separate ways back to the hotel. But instead his moment of disconcertion was replaced with a smile. And five surprising words:

‘If you’re in, I’m in.’

THE SECOND GLASS of wine lasted two hours. I didn’t realize that so much time had evaporated until someone else informed us that it was indeed late. All right, I am being a little fast and loose with the truth. Once or twice I did ponder the fact that we were talking, talking, talking — and the conversation was so surprisingly spirited, so free-flowing and smart (I feel like such an egoist noting that), that, though a voice in the back of my mind occasionally annoyed me with a reminder that it was getting late, I chose to ignore it. Just as I carefully nursed that second glass of wine, worried that if it was drained too quickly it might spark a nervous exchange about perhaps ending the evening there and then, especially as we were both driving and both had things to do tomorrow morning.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. We agreed on a second glass of wine. When it arrived Richard let the waiter know that he shouldn’t trouble us again by simply stating: ‘We’re good now.’

The waiter nodded acknowledgment, then left us alone. As soon as he was out of earshot Richard said:

‘I bet he’s an MIT PhD candidate in astrophysics who really wishes he didn’t have to get dressed up four nights a week in that gendarme uniform and work for tips.’

‘At least he knows that, all going well, he’ll be in some high-powered research or academic post in a couple of years and will be able to use his year as a part-time waiter at the Cambridge Casablanca as a sort of party piece.’

‘If astrophysicists actually have party pieces.’

‘Doesn’t everybody?’ I asked.

‘OK then, what’s yours?’

‘I doubt I have one.’

‘But you just said. ’

‘That’s the problem with a witty retort. It always lands you in trouble.’

‘All right, let me put it this way, if I asked you to sing something. ’

‘I have a terrible voice,’ I said.

‘Play something?’

‘Never learning an instrument remains one of my great regrets.’

‘Recite something?’

I felt myself momentarily clench — and, in the process, foolishly give the game away.

‘So you do recite things?’ Richard asked, all smiles.

‘What makes you think that?’

‘The way you’re blushing right now.’

‘Oh God. ’

‘Why get embarrassed?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s because. ’

‘Yes?’

‘Poetry,’ I said, sounding very direct — as if I was spitting out a confession. ‘I recite poetry.’