we survived us immigration. previous experience had taughtme not to offer observations or suggestions, and i did notneed to use my letter of recommendation from davidborenstein at columbia university characterising me as a saneand competent person. rosie seemed extremely nervous, evento someone who is poor at judging emotional states, and i wasworried that she would cause suspicion and that we would berefused entry for no justifiable reason, as had happened tome on a previous occasion.
the official asked, ‘what do you do?’ and i said, ‘geneticsresearcher,’ and he said, ‘best in the world?’ and i said, ‘yes.’
we were through.
rosie almost ran towards customs and then to the exit. i wasseveral metres behind, carrying both bags. something wasobviously wrong.
i caught up to her outside the automatic doors, reaching intoher handbag.
‘cigarette,’ she said. she lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
‘just don’t say anything, okay? if i ever needed a reason togive up, i’ve got one now. eighteen and a half hours. fuck.’
187/290it was fortunate that rosie had told me not to say anything. iremained silent but shocked at the impact of addiction on herlife.
she finished her cigarette and we headed to the bar. it wasonly 7.48a.m. in los angeles, but we could be on melbourne time untilour arrival in new york.
‘what was the deal about “best geneticist on the planet”?’
i explained that i had a special o-1 visa for aliens ofextraordinary ability. i had needed a visa after the occasionwhen i was refused entry and this was deemed the safestchoice. o-1 visas were quite rare and‘yes’ was the correct answer to any question about theextraordinari-ness of my abilities. rosie found the word ‘alien’
amusing. correction, hilarious.
since we did not have bags checked, and the immigrationprocess had proceeded smoothly, i was able to implement mybest-case alternative and we caught an earlier flight to newyork. i had made plans for the time gained through thismanoeuvre.
at jfk, i steered rosie towards the airtrain. ‘we have twosubway options.’
‘i supposed you’ve memorised the timetable,’ said rosie.
‘not worth the effort. i just know the lines and stations weneed for our journeys.’ i love new york. the layout is sological, at least uptown from 14th street.
when rosie had telephoned isaac esler’s wife she was verypositive about some contact from australia and news from thereunion. on the subway, rosie said, ‘you’ll need an alias. incase esler recognises your name from the asperger’s survey.’
i had already considered this. ‘austin,’ i said. ‘from austinpowers.
international man of mystery.’ rosie thought this was hilarious.
i had made a successful, deliberate joke that was not related toexhibiting some quirk in my personality. a memorable moment.
‘profession?’ she asked.
188/290‘hardware-store owner.’ the idea appeared in my brainspontaneously.
‘okaaaaaay,’ said rosie. ‘right.’
we took the e train to lexington avenue and 53rd street andheaded uptown.
‘where’s the hotel?’ rosie asked as i steered us towardsmadison avenue.
‘lower east side. but we have to shop first.’
‘fuck, don, it’s after 5.30. we’re due at the eslers’ at 7.30.
we don’t have time for shopping. i need time to change.’
i looked at rosie. she was wearing jeans and shirt –conventional attire. i could not see the problem, but we hadtime. ‘i hadn’t planned to go to the hotel before dinner, butsince we arrived early –’
‘don, i’ve been flying for twenty-four hours. we are doingnothing more with your schedule until i’ve checked it forcraziness.’
‘i’ve scheduled four minutes for the transaction,’ i said. wewere already outside the hermès store, which my research hadidentified as the world’s best scarf shop. i walked in and rosiefollowed.
the shop was empty except for us. perfect.
‘don, you’re not exactly dressed for this.’
dressed for shopping! i was dressed for travelling, eating,socialising, museum-visiting – and shopping: runners, cargopants, t-shirt and the jumper knitted by my mother. this wasnot le gavroche.
it seemed highly unlikely that they would refuse to participatein a commercial exchange on the basis of my costume. i wasright.
two women stood behind the counter, one (age approximatelyfifty-five, bmi approximately nineteen) wearing rings on all eightfingers, and the other (age approximately twenty, bmiapproximately twenty-two) wearing huge purple glasses creatingthe impression of a human ant. they were very formallydressed. i initiated the transaction.
‘i require a high-quality scarf.’
189/290ring woman smiled. ‘i can help you with that. it’s for thelady?’
‘no. for claudia.’ i realised that this was not helpful but wasnot sure how to elaborate.
‘and claudia is’ – she made circles with her hand – ‘whatage?’
‘forty-one years, three hundred and fifty-six days.’
‘ah,’ said ring woman, ‘so we have a birthday coming up.’
‘just claudia.’ my birthday was thirty-two days away, so itsurely did not qualify as ‘coming up’. ‘claudia wears scarves,even in hot weather, to cover lines on her neck which sheconsiders unattractive. so the scarf does not need to befunctional, only decorative.’
ring woman produced a scarf. ‘what do you think of this?’
it was remarkably light – and would offer almost zeroprotection against wind and cold. but it was certainly decorative,as specified.
‘excellent. how much?’ we were running to schedule.
‘this one is twelve hundred dollars.’
i opened my wallet and extracted my credit card.
‘whoa whoa whoa,’ said rosie. ‘i think we’d like to see whatelse you have before we rush into anything.’
i turned to rosie. ‘our four minutes is almost up.’
ring woman put three more scarves on the counter. rosielooked at one. i copied her, looking at another. it seemed nice.
they all seemed nice. i had no framework for discrimination.
it continued. ring woman kept throwing more scarves on thecounter and rosie and i looked at them. ant woman came tohelp. i finally identified one that i could comment intelligentlyon.
‘this scarf has a fault! it’s not symmetrical. symmetry is a keycomponent of human beauty.’
rosie had a brilliant response. ‘maybe the scarf’s lack ofsymmetry will highlight claudia’s symmetry.’
190/290ant woman produced a pink scarf with fluffy bits. even icould see that claudia would not approve and dropped itimmediately on the reject pile.
‘what’s wrong with it?’ said rosie.
‘i don’t know. it’s unsuitable.’
‘come on,’ she said, ‘you can do better than that. imagine whomight wear it.’
‘barbara cartland,’ said ring woman.
i was not familiar with this name, but the answer suddenlycame to me. ‘the dean! at the ball.’
rosie burst out laughing. ‘corrrrr-ect.’ she pulled another scarffrom the pile. ‘what about this one?’ it was virtuallytransparent.
‘julie,’ i said automatically, then explained to rosie and the twowomen about the asperger’s counsellor and her revealingcostume. presumably she would not want a scarf to reduce itsimpact.
‘this one?’
it was a scarf that i had quite liked because of its brightcolours, but rosie had rejected as too ‘loud’.
‘bianca.’
‘exactly.’ rosie had not stopped laughing. ‘you know moreabout clothes than you think you do.’
ant woman produced a scarf covered in pictures of birds. ipicked it up – the pictures were remarkably accurate. it wasquite beautiful.
‘birds of the world,’ ant woman said.
‘oh my god, no!’ said rosie. ‘not for claudia.’
‘why not? it’s extremely interesting.’
‘birds of the world! think about it. gene.’
scarves were being sourced from multiple locations, pilingrapidly, being evaluated, tossed aside. it was happening soquickly that i was reminded of the great cocktail night, exceptthat we were the191/290customers. i wondered if the women were enjoying their workas much as i had.
in the end i left the choice to rosie. she chose the first scarfthat they had shown us.
as we walked out of the store, rosie said, ‘i think i justwasted an hour of your life.’
‘no, no, the outcome was irrelevant,’ i said. ‘it was soentertaining.’
‘well,’ said rosie, ‘any time you need entertaining, i could usea pair of manolo blahniks.’ from the word ‘pair’, i guessedthat she was referring to shoes.
‘do we have time?’ we had already used the time that rosiehad intended for the hotel visit.
‘i’m kidding, i’m kidding.’
it was fortunate, as we had to move quickly to arrive at theeslers’
on schedule. but rosie needed to change. there was abathroom at union square station. rosie dashed in andreappeared looking amazingly different.
‘that was incredible,’ i said. ‘so quick.’
rosie looked at me. ‘you’re going like that?’ her tonesuggested dissatisfaction.
‘these are my clothes,’ i said. ‘i have a spare shirt.’
‘show it to me.’
i reached into the bag to get the alternative shirt, which idoubted rosie would prefer, and remembered claudia’s gift. ishowed the shirt to rosie.
‘it was a gift from claudia,’ i said. ‘i’ve got jeans as well, ifthat helps.’
‘all hail claudia,’ said rosie. ‘she earned the scarf.’
‘we’ll be late.’
‘politely late is fine.’
192/290isaac and judy esler had an apartment in williamsburg. myuscell-phone card was working to specification, and we were ableto navigate by gps to the location. i hoped that forty-sixminutes met rosie’s definition of ‘politely late’.
‘austin, remember,’ said rosie as she rang the bell.
judy answered the door. i estimated her age as fifty and herbmi as twenty-six. she spoke with a new york accent, andwas concerned that we might have become lost. her husbandisaac was a caricature of a psychiatrist: mid-fifties, short,receding hair, black goatee beard, bmi nineteen. he was not asfriendly as his wife.
they offered us martinis. i remembered the effect this drinkhad had on me during the preparation for the great cocktailnight and resolved that i would have no more than three.
judy had made some fish-based canapés, and asked for detailsof our trip. she wanted to know whether we had been to newyork before, what season it was in australia (not a challengingquestion) and whether we planned to do any shopping and seeany museums. rosie handled all of these questions.
‘isaac’s off to chicago in the morning,’ said judy. ‘tell themwhat you’ll be doing there.’
‘just a conference,’ said isaac. he and i did not need to do agreat deal of talking to ensure the conversation continued.
he did ask me one thing before we moved to the diningroom. ‘what do you do, austin?’
‘austin runs a hardware store,’ said rosie. ‘a very successfulone.’
judy served a delicious meal based on farmed salmon, whichshe assured rosie was sustainable. i had eaten very little of thepoor-quality aeroplane food, and enjoyed judy’s mealimmensely. isaac opened some pinot gris from oregon andwas generous in refilling my glass.
we talked about new york and the differences betweenaustralian and american politics.
193/290‘well,’ said judy, ‘i’m so glad you could come. it makes up alittle for missing the reunion. isaac was so sorry not to bethere.’
‘not really,’ said isaac. ‘revisiting the past is not something todo lightly.’ he ate the last piece of fish from his plate andlooked at rosie.
‘you look a lot like your mother. she would have been a bityounger than you when i last saw her.’
judy said, ‘we got married the day after the graduation andmoved here. isaac had the biggest hangover at the wedding.
he’d been a bad boy.’ she smiled.
‘i think that’s enough telling tales, judy,’ said isaac. ‘it was alla long time ago.’
he stared at rosie. rosie stared at him.
judy picked up rosie’s plate and mine, one in each hand. idecided that this was the moment to act, with everyonedistracted. i stood and picked up isaac’s plate in one hand andthen judy’s. isaac was too busy playing the staring game withrosie to object. i took the plates to the kitchen, swabbingisaac’s fork on the way.
‘i imagine austin and rosie are exhausted,’ said judy when wereturned to the table.
‘you said you’re a hardware man, austin?’ isaac stood up.
‘can you spare five minutes to look at a tap for me? it’sprobably a job for a plumber, but maybe it’s just a washer.’
‘he means faucet,’ said judy, presumably forgetting we camefrom the same country as isaac.
isaac and i went down the stairs to the basement. i wasconfident i could help with the tap problem. my school holidayshad been spent providing advice of exactly this kind. but as wereached the bottom of the stairs, the lights went out. i wasn’tsure what had happened. a power failure?
‘you okay, don?’ said isaac, sounding concerned.
‘i’m okay,’ i said. ‘what happened?’
194/290‘what happened is that you answered to don, austin.’
we stood there in the dark. i doubted that there were socialconventions for dealing with interrogation by a psychiatrist in adark cellar.
‘how did you know?’ i asked.
‘two unsolicited communications from the same university in amonth. an internet search. you make good dancing partners.’
more silence and darkness.
‘i know the answer to your question. but i made a promisethat i would not reveal it. if i thought it was a matter of lifeor death, or a serious mental health issue, i would reconsider.
but i see no reason to break the promise, which was madebecause the people involved had thought hard about whatwould be right. you came a long way for my dna, and i’mguessing you got it when you cleared the plates. you mightwant to think beyond your girlfriend’s wishes before youproceed.’
he turned on the light.
something bothered me as we walked up the stairs. at the top,i stopped. ‘if you knew what i wanted, why did you let uscome to your house?’
‘good question,’ he said. ‘since you asked the question, i’msure you can work out the answer. i wanted to see rosie.’
