I Think You're Totally Wrong (36 page)

BOOK: I Think You're Totally Wrong
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CALEB:
How about Laurie with drink?

DAVID:
She has two or, at the most, three glasses of wine a night. She's a moderate drinker. She has it nicely under control. During the week do you drink?

CALEB:
We drink less.

DAVID:
What difference does it make?

CALEB:
When I cut down on drinking, I lose weight. I've tried to gauge whether I'm a better writer when I drink. Is it conducive to thought?

DAVID:
Uh—

CALEB:
Alcoholics like to push their limits, but I don't like drinking beyond a certain point. Not that I'm in complete control.

DAVID:
That's a good sign, that—

CALEB:
The hangover should be avoided. All things being equal, alcohol tires you out and doesn't prolong life. The writer who lives longer and lives better produces more. I guess that's a reason to stop. I'm going to have to confront this sooner or later. So, last night, you drove into town.

DAVID:
I wasn't comfortable with you driving.

CALEB:
All right.

DAVID:
Anyway …

CALEB:
You're not off base.

DAVID:
Milton Berle was at a Catholic charity event, had a glass of sherry, and they asked him, “Don't you want a second glass?” Everyone else was getting drunk. Berle said, “Jews don't drink. It interferes with our suffering.”

Caleb laughs
.

DAVID:
That is to me
the
great Jewish joke. How does the other one go? The Catholic is thirsty and thinks he needs a drink, the Protestant is thirsty and thinks he needs a drink, the Jew is thirsty and thinks he's getting diabetes.… Umm …

CALEB:
Needs a little work.

CALEB:
Terry called to tell me about how Ava had a birthday party yesterday but neither of us—namely me—remembered to RSVP.

DAVID:
Why couldn't she wait?

CALEB:
She does this a lot.

DAVID:
She's trying to make you feel guilty.

CALEB:
If I leave in the morning and the refrigerator door hasn't been shut, she'll call me. “Caleb, you forgot to close the refrigerator door. Don't worry—I closed it—but I just wanted you to know.” Or, “Why didn't you bring the dirty laundry downstairs?”

DAVID:
It's an endless game of Tag—You're It or You Fucked Up. If I break a glass, it's a major tragedy. If Laurie does it, it's “Whoops.”

CALEB:
It's the bliss … ters of domestic life.

DAVID:
Ouch. Not again.

CALEB:
Let's see, would Khamta want me to leave the hot tub on or off? He probably told me and I forgot.

DAVID:
Why would it matter?

CALEB:
Waste energy or not? That's the question. I'll give him a call.

CALEB:
(leaving message on Khamta's voice mail)
 … anyway, Khamta, give me a call.

DAVID:
What are you going to do?

CALEB:
I guess I'll turn the hot tub off.

On the road back to Seattle
.

DAVID:
The thing I liked best about Peter's novel [
A Young Man's Guide to Late Capitalism
]—what he was trying to get to (I think it's his big theme, actually, given that his father was a big muckamuck at the IMF)—is that if you view life as a chess game, you're going to miss it. Life, that is.

CALEB:
Look at Bobby “Dear Mr. Osama” Fischer: the penultimate moronic genius.

DAVID:
“Penultimate” means “next to ultimate,” not “ultimate.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows
.

DAVID:
Sorry. Chess game!

CALEB:
Four Jews in the desert: three rabbis and one dissident rabbi. Or let's make it Caleb and his two friends versus David.

DAVID:
Okay.

CALEB:
Four Jews in the desert arguing over the Torah, and David Shields says to Caleb, “My interpretation of the Torah is right, and to prove it, I will ask for a sign.” The blue sky clouds over, there's thunder, a few lightning bolts, and the skies part. David Shields says, “See, I'm right.”

Caleb says, “That could have just been a coincidence, not a sign from God.”

David says, “God, a little more help, please.” Black clouds roll in, there's lightning all around, nearby trees are destroyed, a brief rainstorm, then the sky clears and there are a few puddles. David says, “Okay, admit it. I'm right.”

Caleb consults with his friends; they come to a consensus: Caleb says, “That still could be a coincidence. Today could be one of those strange weather days.”

David Shields gets on his knees and shouts, “God, I implore you!”

Clouds roll, part in the middle, a golden light floods the desert, and a deep voice booms, “David is riiiiiiightttt!!!!!”

David says, “What more proof do you need?”

Caleb and his two friends gather once again, and Caleb finally emerges and says, “Now it's three against two.”

DAVID:
Perfect. “I think you're totally wrong.”

CALEB:
A few words on post-childbirth belly: That belly is the home of our babies and that belly's beautiful.

DAVID:
See, that's the thing: I couldn't say that without blushing if my life depended on it.

Pulled over on the side of the road outside Index, Caleb clicks off his phone
.

CALEB:
Well, I guess I was supposed to leave the hot tub on. I'll turn around. We're not going to be able to get you home in time for Natalie and Skype.

DAVID:
Hmmm.

CALEB:
Call Laurie, say that I fucked up.

DAVID:
It wasn't any big mistake. You did what you thought you should. Unfortunately, Khamta called back.

CALEB:
Fortunately. I mean, what if he called later? If I don't turn on the jets, the water will, little by little, turn green and nasty. The water needs to filter. He was cool about it.

DAVID:
We'll get back around five?

CALEB:
There'll be a little bit of weekend traffic around Sultan through Monroe. You might be late.

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