Read Online American Innovations: Stories by Rivka Galchen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rivka Galchen
Ads: Link
not common. To do that, you’re essentially promising your partner that you have at least sixteen high card points. At least. Are you following? For him to make that bid, he’s saying he’s got long hearts and a really good hand. And then he doesn’t, not at all! We end up in four hearts in a four-two fit. It’s like he’s expecting me to have the hearts, it’s crazy. Everyone else is in a normal three no-trump. So I write to him: ‘Are you drunk or are you stupid?’”
“You said, ‘Are you drunk or are you stupid?’”
“Yes, you can make chatter in the sidebar of the game. There’s a space. I mean, you don’t even play bridge, but even you can understand that he made a ridiculous bid, right? I’ve read six books on bridge; you can trust me, what he did was really idiotic. That’s why I said what I said. Well, then he called me awful names. Just awful. I can’t say the names. And he was the one who made the mistake! I almost didn’t want to play bridge online ever again. And I have some very nice people that I play bridge with. But I almost gave up playing. See, that’s what happens with the Internet. Some people will be amazingly rude.”
I think I said something about how yes, people could really be people.
She said something about how I must be jet-lagged.
“I’m all right,” I said. The main reason I was in Singapore was that a year-and-a-half-long relationship of mine had recently come to an end, and it had seemed natural to transition by visiting a friend who had moved to Hong Kong, and then, already so far, visiting my aunt, too. I wasn’t devastated, though; it wasn’t that kind of breakup; my serial eighteen-month relationships consistently ended amicably, it was just a weird tic of mine, one with which I was fine. It was like, I had been told, I wasn’t a woman.
“Did I ever tell you,” my aunt asked, “about my September 11th?”
No, she hadn’t.
“It was late here, everyone was asleep, and my God, I was lying in bed, and then I noticed this lump, quite big, right here, on my side. I was sure it was cancer. I was sure I was going to die. How could I have not noticed it before?” She went on to say, “It was right here at these low ribs that aren’t full ribs. Normally I would have called my friend Simona, she’s an excellent doctor, you know, but I didn’t think it was right, ringing her late like that. That’s nighttime thinking for you. I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded. But I told myself I would have to make it on my own until the beginning of the next business day. That’s what I was thinking. I couldn’t rest, of course. I went and turned on the television, just to distract myself, to calm myself down. And what’s there? The towers. Can you believe it? I mean, how awful. And they just kept replaying it. I sat there watching it all alone. Well, it wasn’t cancer, the lump. It was just my breast. I mean, the silicone. The implant. It just fell down. Unbelievable, right? That they would put something in you that could do that. I said to the doctors, Just take it out and never give it back to me. I like small breasts now. I used to hate them, but now I like them.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “I mean, about how scared you must have been.”
Then my Tina asked me, “Are you still working on your physical therapy thing?”
That had been two career interests ago, but it was a thoughtful inquiry, considering that we didn’t see each other very often. “Oh,” I said. “No.”
When we set out to get a bite to eat, I was relieved.
“They have excellent salads at this place,” my aunt said. “The best outfit is a good figure.”
I agreed.
* * *
A year and some later, in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, I awoke from not particularly uneasy dreams. I was sleeping alone and on my stomach. It was not September 11th. I negotiated nine more minutes from the alarm. Then the alarm went off again; I negotiated again; then the alarm again, and then,
“You said, ‘Are you drunk or are you stupid?’”
“Yes, you can make chatter in the sidebar of the game. There’s a space. I mean, you don’t even play bridge, but even you can understand that he made a ridiculous bid, right? I’ve read six books on bridge; you can trust me, what he did was really idiotic. That’s why I said what I said. Well, then he called me awful names. Just awful. I can’t say the names. And he was the one who made the mistake! I almost didn’t want to play bridge online ever again. And I have some very nice people that I play bridge with. But I almost gave up playing. See, that’s what happens with the Internet. Some people will be amazingly rude.”
I think I said something about how yes, people could really be people.
She said something about how I must be jet-lagged.
“I’m all right,” I said. The main reason I was in Singapore was that a year-and-a-half-long relationship of mine had recently come to an end, and it had seemed natural to transition by visiting a friend who had moved to Hong Kong, and then, already so far, visiting my aunt, too. I wasn’t devastated, though; it wasn’t that kind of breakup; my serial eighteen-month relationships consistently ended amicably, it was just a weird tic of mine, one with which I was fine. It was like, I had been told, I wasn’t a woman.
“Did I ever tell you,” my aunt asked, “about my September 11th?”
No, she hadn’t.
“It was late here, everyone was asleep, and my God, I was lying in bed, and then I noticed this lump, quite big, right here, on my side. I was sure it was cancer. I was sure I was going to die. How could I have not noticed it before?” She went on to say, “It was right here at these low ribs that aren’t full ribs. Normally I would have called my friend Simona, she’s an excellent doctor, you know, but I didn’t think it was right, ringing her late like that. That’s nighttime thinking for you. I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded. But I told myself I would have to make it on my own until the beginning of the next business day. That’s what I was thinking. I couldn’t rest, of course. I went and turned on the television, just to distract myself, to calm myself down. And what’s there? The towers. Can you believe it? I mean, how awful. And they just kept replaying it. I sat there watching it all alone. Well, it wasn’t cancer, the lump. It was just my breast. I mean, the silicone. The implant. It just fell down. Unbelievable, right? That they would put something in you that could do that. I said to the doctors, Just take it out and never give it back to me. I like small breasts now. I used to hate them, but now I like them.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “I mean, about how scared you must have been.”
Then my Tina asked me, “Are you still working on your physical therapy thing?”
That had been two career interests ago, but it was a thoughtful inquiry, considering that we didn’t see each other very often. “Oh,” I said. “No.”
When we set out to get a bite to eat, I was relieved.
“They have excellent salads at this place,” my aunt said. “The best outfit is a good figure.”
I agreed.
* * *
A year and some later, in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, I awoke from not particularly uneasy dreams. I was sleeping alone and on my stomach. It was not September 11th. I negotiated nine more minutes from the alarm. Then the alarm went off again; I negotiated again; then the alarm again, and then,
Similar Books
