discovered. Then she raised her eyes and looked at me.
”Until I was twenty I was my father’s princess, his little JAP. And then I was my husband’s wife, the ornament of his career, and after the divorce, not very long after, I met you and became your“-she made a wiffling gesture with her hand-”friend. Always me was perceived through you- you my father,you my husband, you my friend.“
”By whom?“ I said. When I was serious my English was good.
”By all of us. By me and by you, all of you. Down here there’s no intermediary lens, no you through which me is seen. Here I am what I am and a great many people are very much taken with me because of what I am and they never even heard of you. Yes, I love that. And yes, I miss you. But missing you is a price I have to pay in order to become completely me. At least for a while. And goddamn it, it’s a price I am glad to pay. I sort of expected you’d understand better.“
”I kind of hoped I would too,“ I said. ”I’m doing the best I can.“
”So,“ Susan said with emphasis, ”am I.“
I drank some wine. The truth kept turning to confusion as I tried to speak it. ”I think what you’re saying I can handle,“ I said. ”But I think you’ve overcommitted. You are becoming your work. You don’t talk the same. You use the jargon of the profession, you drink the drink of the profession, you know who the important people are and get next to them. You’ve begun to believe in potluck suppers to boost morale. I’m not sure how much you’re becoming yourself.“
”I’m not becoming myself,“ Susan said. ”I’m trying out selves, I’m working up a self. That’s part of the problem. I never had a center, a core full of self-certainty and conviction. I’ve merely picked up the colorations of the yous: my father, my husband, my…“-she smiled a little- ”… friend. Of course I’m becoming more shrink-y than the shrinks. I’m like a kid in her first year at college. And if it helps you any, you might think of me that way, leaving the nest. Even explaining myself limits me, it’s intrusive, it compromises me. I want to do what I want to do.“
”Unless your supervisor tells you not to,“ I said.
”That’s not fair. It’s not… it’s not even insightful. You still can’t get outside your own view. You can’t understand someone without a goddamned code. You don’t see that for millions of people, male and female, the workplace is the code.“
I shook my head. ”You have committed yourself to everything I’ve worked all my life to stay free of.“
”I know,“ Susan said.
”You endorse a way of life I find not only uninviting, I… I disapprove of it.“
Susan nodded.
”I always assumed,“ I said, and twiddled with my-wineglass as I said it, ”I always assumed that someone who found his or her identity the way you’re finding yours was…“-I spun the stem of the wineglass slowly between my fingers and watched the round bottom circle slowly on the table linen-”shallow.“
Susan’s gaze on me was steady. ”It’s a view you tend to impose on anyone close to you. You believe things very strongly. It burdens people.“
I nodded. ”A person might need to get away from me,“ I said. ”To develop her own views.“ I stopped twirling the wineglass and picked it up and drank some wine. Then I took the wine bottle from the bucket and poured some more into Susan’s glass and mine.
”The thing is, you’re not shallow,“ I said. ”And if you were, it wouldn’t matter. Not only would I follow you into hell. I’d follow you into AT&T.“
Susan sampled some of her sole.
”So I was wrong about that,“ I said. ”Makes me wonder what else I was wrong about. Makes me doubt myself. Screws up my autonomy.“
I took a bite of my squab. It was delicious. I tried the cabbage; it had a magnificent smoky taste.
”How come I’m still hungry when my heart is breaking?“ I said.
Susan smiled. ”Old habits are hard to
”Until I was twenty I was my father’s princess, his little JAP. And then I was my husband’s wife, the ornament of his career, and after the divorce, not very long after, I met you and became your“-she made a wiffling gesture with her hand-”friend. Always me was perceived through you- you my father,you my husband, you my friend.“
”By whom?“ I said. When I was serious my English was good.
”By all of us. By me and by you, all of you. Down here there’s no intermediary lens, no you through which me is seen. Here I am what I am and a great many people are very much taken with me because of what I am and they never even heard of you. Yes, I love that. And yes, I miss you. But missing you is a price I have to pay in order to become completely me. At least for a while. And goddamn it, it’s a price I am glad to pay. I sort of expected you’d understand better.“
”I kind of hoped I would too,“ I said. ”I’m doing the best I can.“
”So,“ Susan said with emphasis, ”am I.“
I drank some wine. The truth kept turning to confusion as I tried to speak it. ”I think what you’re saying I can handle,“ I said. ”But I think you’ve overcommitted. You are becoming your work. You don’t talk the same. You use the jargon of the profession, you drink the drink of the profession, you know who the important people are and get next to them. You’ve begun to believe in potluck suppers to boost morale. I’m not sure how much you’re becoming yourself.“
”I’m not becoming myself,“ Susan said. ”I’m trying out selves, I’m working up a self. That’s part of the problem. I never had a center, a core full of self-certainty and conviction. I’ve merely picked up the colorations of the yous: my father, my husband, my…“-she smiled a little- ”… friend. Of course I’m becoming more shrink-y than the shrinks. I’m like a kid in her first year at college. And if it helps you any, you might think of me that way, leaving the nest. Even explaining myself limits me, it’s intrusive, it compromises me. I want to do what I want to do.“
”Unless your supervisor tells you not to,“ I said.
”That’s not fair. It’s not… it’s not even insightful. You still can’t get outside your own view. You can’t understand someone without a goddamned code. You don’t see that for millions of people, male and female, the workplace is the code.“
I shook my head. ”You have committed yourself to everything I’ve worked all my life to stay free of.“
”I know,“ Susan said.
”You endorse a way of life I find not only uninviting, I… I disapprove of it.“
Susan nodded.
”I always assumed,“ I said, and twiddled with my-wineglass as I said it, ”I always assumed that someone who found his or her identity the way you’re finding yours was…“-I spun the stem of the wineglass slowly between my fingers and watched the round bottom circle slowly on the table linen-”shallow.“
Susan’s gaze on me was steady. ”It’s a view you tend to impose on anyone close to you. You believe things very strongly. It burdens people.“
I nodded. ”A person might need to get away from me,“ I said. ”To develop her own views.“ I stopped twirling the wineglass and picked it up and drank some wine. Then I took the wine bottle from the bucket and poured some more into Susan’s glass and mine.
”The thing is, you’re not shallow,“ I said. ”And if you were, it wouldn’t matter. Not only would I follow you into hell. I’d follow you into AT&T.“
Susan sampled some of her sole.
”So I was wrong about that,“ I said. ”Makes me wonder what else I was wrong about. Makes me doubt myself. Screws up my autonomy.“
I took a bite of my squab. It was delicious. I tried the cabbage; it had a magnificent smoky taste.
”How come I’m still hungry when my heart is breaking?“ I said.
Susan smiled. ”Old habits are hard to
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