Passover

PASSOVER
By Serin
DC/AR (preslash)
Rated PG

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Monday, April 17, 1978, 4:45 pm

"Diane, I've just had a very interesting conversation with Albert Rosenfield, during the course of which I learned, among other things, that my birthday this year happens to fall upon Passover. I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Diane, that I wasn't angling for an invitation; my friendship, if such it may be called, with this complicated person is far too new and tentative for such presumption even if I weren't accustomed to a quiet, solitary, and reflective observation of the anniversary of my birth. Nonetheless, the outcome of this particular brief, cautious essay into personal territory is that I find myself committed to spending Wednesday evening having dinner with Albert, Albert's father, Albert's stepmother Mimi, his stepmother's sister Lotti, his grandmother, his sister Victoria, his half-brother Philip, his step-sisters Lily and Claire, Claire's husband, three cats, two Pekingese and one capuchin monkey. Diane, that's a whole lot of Rosenfields, both technical and honorary. I wonder what I have gotten myself into."

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Wednesday, April 19, 7:40 pm

"Cocktail hour at the Rosenfield house–- which, as it turns out, is a four-story townhouse designed by an architect named Robert A.M. Stern. It's quite a place; the interiors are modern but not stridently so, and the overall ambience is quite gracious -– at least until certain topics of conversation, such as Albert's career choices, are introduced. I've just stepped onto the balcony for a few moments of fresh air. No sign of dinner yet...Excuse me, Diane, something seems to be amiss."

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8:10 pm

"Diane, did you know that capuchin monkeys are tropical animals and should never be exposed to drafts? If you're ever in a room with a monkey cage, take my advice and don't open any French doors or windows in its vicinity. Still, Aunt Lotti – the monkey is hers, as are the other pets – was very understanding about it once it was decided that Poko hadn't suffered any ill effects. She told me that Albert gave her the monkey several years ago, having 'liberated' it from a laboratory at Yale, where he had been a 17-year-old senior in the biochemistry department. Albert, not the monkey. The monkey was the subject of isolation experiments in the psychology department. When I suggested that its traumatic infancy was probably why it was given to occasionally covering its eyes and screaming for no apparent reason, everyone seemed to agree."

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11:55 pm

"About to turn in, after what has to be one of the most memorable evenings I've spent recently. Dinner was excellent. Albert's grandmother makes a mean varnishka.

Families are infinitely mysterious, Diane. As she was showing us out, Mimi Rosenfield apparently astonished Albert by hugging him and saying, 'You know, we all just want you to be happy.' Then, to my even greater astonishment and inexplicable delight, she hugged me too, enveloping me for a second in maternal warmth and expensive perfume.

Oh, and you may be interested to know, after the front door closed behind us I asked Albert why he had taken the monkey. He replied that he was disgusted by so-called experiments that tortured animals to prove that Loneliness is Bad. I said that a child prodigy probably had had enough evidence of that by the time he reached seventeen. He stared at me and then advised me to drop the 'sloppy anthropomorphic sentimentalism.' He meant, he insisted, that it had been an expression of contempt for a soft science masquerading as a hard science. Then, apparently remembering that I had majored in psych, he quickly added that I got more mileage out of a BS in psychology then he would have ever imagined possible.

If only that were true, Diane."

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Monday, April 22, 1978, 7:20 am

"Diane, I trust you had a good holiday weekend. My own, which as you know came on the heels of dinner with the Rosenfield clan, was a revelation in a number of ways. I have been musing over what Mimi Rosenfield said as we were leaving. I assumed at the time that she was talking about Albert's career, but this morning as I was shaving the pieces fell into place.

Albert's parents think that we are lovers. They come from a generation and social milieu that doesn't talk openly about such things, but they were determined to be accepting. In fact, I find myself very touched when I think how hard they all worked to see what he saw in me. I wonder if Albert realizes; I suspect that he does not. I'm not sure yet what, if anything, I'm going to do about this. A part of me is almost reluctant to correct the misunderstanding; there is something unexpectedly appealing in the thought of being a part, however peripheral, of a large, extended family–- a devoted family, from what I can see, however inclined to argue. I suppose this is a wistfulness born of watching my own family, which once seemed as immutable as the stars, unravel after my brother's desertion and my mother's death. Still, it was a nice evening. Very educational. Exhausting. But nice."

End

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Serin

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