The Verificationist by Donald Antrim

Author:Donald Antrim
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Picador

Bernhardt said, “I remember you. You had a wonderful way of helping Tom here get through a tough decision about his dinner. Not many people can show such calm in a crisis. That’s a real talent you have. You might think about a career in psychology.”

“Really?” asked Rebecca.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” said the big man to the young girl with the dog on her neck. This got me mad. Why couldn’t I have been the one to say nice things about Rebecca’s prospects?

I countered Bernhardt. “Don’t rush into a profession, Rebecca. It’s important to experiment and find work that’s right for you. What you want to do is go to a decent liberal arts school and take a variety of courses in different fields. Enjoy yourself, read a few good books, play some intramural sports, and see what interests you.”

She said—and made the idea sound absolutely depressing—“My mom wants me to go to Kernberg.”

“Hmm,” I said.

Bernhardt practically shouted, “Kill ’em, Colonels!” Then he quieted down and said, “The place has changed since I went. There’s the brand-new veterinary school. Coed dorms.”

Was this supposed to be incentive? It was not at all surprising to hear Manuel, seated and drinking coffee with Maria at the vinyl-and-Formica booth immediately behind Richard—it was not surprising to hear the Kleinian pipe up and exclaim (to the extent that this man ever exclaimed anything), “Resist the mother! Taste the forbidden pleasures in life!”

“You’re such a prick, Manuel,” said Maria. “Why don’t you just invite her to lie down here on the table so you can have your way with her on top of our plates?” Maria peered up at Rebecca and said, “Listen, honey, don’t pay any mind to these creeps. They see you as a sexual object. They’re threatened by your vitality.”

What could be said about this? Maria was right, up to a point; and it was inevitable, I suppose, that she would create a job for herself as Rebecca’s alternative, “good” mother.

Maria gave the girl some advice about sex and power. In doing so, she sounded an unwittingly contradictory and revealingly carnal note, ironically undermining her cherished position as a mature, financially independent woman who can take or leave men.

“Fuck ’em,” she told Rebecca.

It might be useful, at this juncture, to pause and study, for a moment, the developing interpersonal situation: the weary old allegiances in decline, the new erotic configurations taking precedence; the relational matrix in flux around the question of a young waitress’s college plans. As every educated person these days knows, our criticisms and judgments of others’ lives are at least occasionally meaningful—in the opinion of some workers in my field, almost always so—as covert communications about our own attitudes, dispositions, and needs. However, some of what we say about ourselves when we babble sentimentally or resentfully about family and friends (or about institutions like the Krakower Institute, or even made-up characters populating a story) expresses more than the solitary Self in action; rather, offhand commentary and gossip about others reveals insights and perceptions that are unarguably public and universal, common to humanity.

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