Then She Found Me by Elinor Lipman Page A

repeated. “Even the Jews of Eastern Europe who made their living as peddlers and owned no land.”
    “That’s a relief,” I said. I took a sip of coffee from the cup Dwight offered and asked if I could get a Styrofoam one for him. He shook his head.
    Frank squeaked his chair back noisily as he rose to leave. “Nice to hear an update on Kyle Bui,” I said.
    “Don’t be discouraged about your roots,” Frank counseled.
    At the other end of the table, the phys ed teachers were discussing a cretin football player who was being heavily recruited by midwestern universities. Closer, a white-haired teacher of shorthand was discussing early retirement incentives with a bald man I didn’t know.
    “Sorry,” I said to Dwight.
    “About what?”
    “Your first trip down here in fifteen years and there’s no seat.”
    He reached in his bag and brought forth a second sandwich. “A bit territorial when you’re not in with the in crowd.”
    “I’m not in with the in crowd,” I whispered. “I don’t even like anyone at this table.”
    “It’s all right if you do. Frank’s a decent guy.”
    “He was done eating. He didn’t have to sit around for another ten minutes and fiddle with his tea bag while you rearranged the furniture.”
    “It’s okay. I’m a big boy.”
    “They’re jerks,” I said.
    He smiled at something but didn’t explain.
    “What?”
    He shook his head no, but spoke after a few moments. “I’m fascinating and they’re jerks?” Bernice’s words; her emphasis.
    I opened my mouth to protest, but Dwight said, “You’re not like her. It was just that one word. You spit it out with the same … distaste.”
    I allowed myself a few bites of my sandwich, finished my potato chips. “What did you think of Bernice’s boyfriend?” I asked finally.
    Dwight’s mouth was full. I waited. “Ted. A man possessed.”
    “They’ve only known each other a month,” I said.
    “Which means what?”
    “That he’s rushing things. Putting pressure on her, proposing every day.”
    “A month’s not that short a time to know someone,” said Dwight. “Besides, something tells me Bernice can handle it.”
    I laughed. “Did you find her completely full of shit?”
    “In an endearing sort of way.”
    “You’re kidding!”
    “She certainly went out of her way to be charming to me.”
    I laughed. “That’s true.” And thought:
charming
.
    He picked up the second sandwich and stared at it. After a few moments he asked lightly, “Has she met other friends of yours?”
    “No. Why?”
    Dwight automatically reached for the black plastic cup, then remembered it was my coffee.
    “Go ahead.” I pushed it toward him. He took a sip, handed it back, said carefully, “Was Bernice expecting you to bring a boyfriend or something?”
    “Why?”
    He shrugged. “Ted’s demeanor. The place, the music, the champagne …”
    “Because he knew he’d be proposing every five minutes. He’s the type that goes for the grand gesture.”
    “I sensed they were expecting it to be a foursome.” And more softly: “I guess we all felt awkward.”
    Well, I said. Well, that’s their problem. I told Bernice a hundred times I was bringing a friend. Apparently that concept is foreign to her. Males are not friends in her book. Males are dates, period.
    Dwight fingered the cup but didn’t pick it up. “So she did see me as a date?”
    “Well,” I said, “you were, more or less.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Dwight—” I began.
    “And she wasn’t too thrilled.”
    “Bernice is completely self-absorbed. All she talks about is should she marry Ted or shouldn’t she. She woke me up at six this morning to tell me he’s only proposing so he can sleep with her and then it turns out he’s in bed next to her. If she had any thoughts about my taste in friends, she didn’t share them with me.” I folded my empty potato chip bag into halves, then quarters, as if something important rested on the sharpness of my