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B E N   G R E E N M A N   W E E K :
S O M E T H I N G   S O M E O N E
T O L D   M E .


BY BEN GREENMAN

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"There are good jokes," he said, "and there are bad jokes, and then there are jokes that are worse than bad, jokes that make bad jokes look like good jokes, or better. This was the kind of joke that emerged from the mouth of a woman I planned to marry, a woman with whom I had already picked a date and place, selected table linen, looked through books of cakes, nodding sagely at cakes that did not offend my sensibilities, shaking my head at those that did. We planned the wedding nearly every evening, after we both came home from work, and for the most part our tastes were in harmony. One Friday, we decided to walk down the street to a new Italian restaurant that had received an enthusiastic review in the local paper. We sat and ordered. She had linguini. I had Chicken Tetrazinni. 'I am tired,' I said. 'This hasn't been the best week at work. And I feel a little old these days. It's ridiculous, I know, because I'm not old.' I was twenty-eight. 'It's just that some days I sit there at my desk and wonder if this is what I'll be doing for the rest of my life.' I was a financial writer. 'Do you know how long that is? The rest of your life? I guess that's part of the problem. No one knows how long it is. But it could be a long time. It's scary to think about working a job for the rest of your life, just like it's scary to think about being with one person for the rest of your life. How long have we been together?' We had been together four years. 'It seems like this is the thing we're supposed to do, to get married, right? And I hope it is. I guess I just have cold feet.' My feet were not cold; it was a figure of speech. 'Anyway, I hope the Chicken Tetrazinni is good. I am hungry.'

"'Can I tell you a joke?' she said.

"'Sure,' I said. I was distracted.

"'There is this country,' she said. 'Not here. Not the United States. And they have a Presidential election, and one candidate wins by a landslide. Almost everyone who goes into the voting booths comes out with broad smiles on their pale white faces. It's obvious that this candidate, whose name I won't say, is the best candidate, and the one that's the most beloved. When he appears on TV, he has this very serious expression on his pale white face, but not stern or angry. A serious, loving expression. So anyway, he wins, with like seventy percent of the popular vote, which is pretty damned good, and he is inaugurated, and he gets up to the podium to make his speech. And here's the speech.' She said nothing. 'Get it? Because he's a mime. It's a whole country of mimes. That's why they have the pale white faces.'

"Thus was the seed of doubt planted. I cannot remark upon the quality of the Chicken Tetrazinni. My mind was elsewhere. And three months later, on the day we had set aside for our marriage, I was elsewhere, too, with another woman, in another life, although in that other life I was still a financial writer. I do not know what happened to the woman I planned to marry. The break was clean, and rapid."

Next: Day Five
Previous: Day Three

 

 

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