It’s bewildering, Melancholy, how one second you are the world’s biggest jerk, but the next moment, you can be so thoughtful. I don’t think I will ever forget the lunch you treated me to.
“You didn’t know, did you, Melancholy?”
“I didn’t know.”
“You’re not just saying that? I know you have European ideas about relationships.”
“What do you want to drink?”
“Just water, Melancholy. It’s a little early in the afternoon for…”
“Sapphire and tonic,” you told the waiter. “Make it a double.”
I was surprised you chose to drink alone — this was our first date, I remember thinking to myself, and guys usually try to make a better impression on me.
“Arrogance can be justified. Especially arrogance backed up with talent. Chekhov once wrote to his brother that to talent everything is forgiven. But he’s wrong. To those without integrity, the gods will never grant forgiveness. They’re at the very bottom, Kitty, right next to Ugolino, chewing on Ruggieri’s brains.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“A man without integrity can look forward to an eternity of suffering in the bowels of hell.”
I didn’t know whether to be touched or horrified, Melancholy. I knew you weren’t thinking of my feelings when you spoke. You had a frightening look of intensity on your face, but we hardly knew each other, Melancholy. We weren’t even friends. I couldn’t understand how you could speak like this about one of your closest friends, just because he cheated on his girlfriend, whom you didn’t know well.
What confused me most, though, was why you didn’t look at me. Here you were, my knight in shining armor, coming to my defense, and you couldn’t be bothered to look at me. It was very touching, Melancholy, what you said - don’t get me wrong - but you spoke while staring at the sea.
I didn’t understand. Wasn’t I attractive enough for you?
Saturday, a little before noon. Do you remember any of this, Melancholy? I’m waiting for you at my parents’s house in Connecticut because I had a photo shoot the next day in New Canaan. You didn’t want to come to their house, I could tell, when I told you I had to change our plans. But it could have worked out so well. I told Mother all about you while I was there. I told her how smart you were, how much of a gentleman you were. She seemed not to hate you, which was a good sign, because I wasn’t sure if she was going to approve. I’ll admit I didn’t mention the Korean thing.
What a disaster. Why were you so late, Melancholy? Forty-five mintues! You didn’t call to let me know what was happening. Did it ever cross your mind what I might be going through?
And then when you arrived! Why were you so awkward, Melancholy? You came to the door, and I introduced you to Mother, and then you went crazy, Melancholy. You went crazy.
“Melancholy, I want to introduce you to my mother, Barbara.”
“Barbara. That means barbarian.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Greeks called anyone who didn’t know Greek a barbarian. That’s what the foreigners sounded like to them. Bar bar bar.”
Oh God, Melancholy. What a stupid thing to say. Why didn’t you say hello and nice to meet to you, like every other guy who’s ever come to the house? You know what Mother can be like. No, that’s not fair. You didn’t. But you learned fast, didn’t you?
“How that’s again?”
You weren’t supposed to answer, Melancholy.
“It’s what foreigners sounded like to them.”
“Barbara. It was my grandmother’s name.”
“Bar bar bar. Non Greeks. Hence, Bar-bar-a. Barbarian.”
“You are an educated young man, aren’t you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“To think that I could pass for a foreigner.”
“He didn’t mean that, Mother.”
“I’ll have to tell my friends at DAR about this.”
“What’s that?”
“A club for foreign women, apparently. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”
What were you thinking, Melancholy? Why that stupid story? I turned my head as we were going to the car, and Mother gave me that look, that raised eyebrow look and then she turned and shut the door of the house. You totally humiliated me in front of her, Melancholy. But you had no idea.
Badges The Elder
Do you remember our first date, Melancholy? I can’t believe how long it took you to finally ask me out. I shouldn’t laugh at a time like this, but I can’t help it. Oh, Melancholy. Two years? That must be some kind of world record. And I don’t think I can recommend your method of pursuing girls. You pride yourself on learning from books, so can I humbly suggest you try some new dating guides? Preferably ones written in the last fifty years?
It was Thursday night, really late, I remember, and the telephone would not stop ringing. Ring ring ring. I was in bed reading, and I didn’t want to get up. But you were so persistent, Melancholy. Ring ring ring.
“Kitty?”
“Who is this?”
“I was hoping you might do me the honor of allowing me…”
“Melancholy? Is that you?”
“I was hoping…”
“Why are you calling me so late?”
“I was hoping you might do me the honor…”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying, Melancholy. Could you speak normally?”
I immediately regretted being so abrupt, since I knew you were sensitive. But I couldn’t say anything, of course. So we just sat on the phone, neither of us saying anything. I thought, if I’ve embarrassed him, at least he’ll hang up soon, and I can get back to bed. Or he’ll try to ask me out again. But, no, Melancholy. Always forging your own path, aren’t you?
“Kitty. Dinner. Saturday.”
“I didn’t catch any of that. Could you try to speak a little more loudly?”
Another pause. I felt like we were in a Beckett play.
“Dinner. Saturday?”
“You’re asking me out to dinner on Saturday?”
You didn’t say anything after that, I remember. But I was going to let you off the hook. I was touched you were so nervous.
“I would love to Melancholy, but I’m afraid I already…”
“Sorry. Bother you.”
“… have plans with my friend, Sybil.”
(silence)
“But if you’re free during the day, maybe lunch?”
“Noon. Pick you up.”
“That would be fine, Melancholy. Good night.”
I couldn’t figure out why you were so nervous. You were never nervous around me before. For the first two months after we met, you didn’t even talk to me. Do you realize that, Melancholy? You were so arrogant and superior and you always ignored me. You hardly even looked at me, Melancholy. God, you were such a jerk.
