Barney's Version - Mordecai Richler [65]
“I recognize that gruff smoker’s voice. You’ve been out late drinking again, haven’t you?”
“Coming from you —”
“Now look here, I’m no prude. I have never objected to drinking, but in moderation.”
“I was up late last night reading the autobiography of Geronimo. Hey, the Apaches may be one of the lost tribes. Geronimo never ate bacon or pork. A tribal taboo. When his father died, the Apaches slew his horse and gave away all his other property. The Apaches never keep any of the riches of a dead relative. Their unwritten tribal law forbids it, because they fear that otherwise the children of a wealthy man might be glad when their father died. Give away the whole kit and caboodle, Daddy. It would drive Caroline crazy.”
“Saul, I hate to be a nag, but have you spoken to Kate recently?”
“So that she could subtly suggest what a failure I am, living as I do?”
“She adores you.”
“Yeah, sure. Incidentally, I’m not sending Mike any more of my articles. Months go by and he still hasn’t got round to reading them. He pretends to be a vegetarian, if only to please Her Ladyship, but when he was in New York last week, and went out to dinner, it had to be the Palm, where he could dig into a huge steak. And he went out of his way to bait Aviva.”
“Aviva?”
“She’s an Israeli. Writes for the Jerusalem Post now that it’s no longer an apologist for Arafat. So naturally he went on compulsively about how much he contributes to Peace Now, and the plight of the Palestinians. Never mind that her brother had been killed in a terrorist attack.”
“Is that who you’re living with these days?”
“I was listening to Glenn Gould’s recording of The Goldberg Variations yesterday and she started filing her nails. She’d get up early and clip things she needed out of my copy of the Times, and when I finally got to the breakfast table, there were all these windows in the paper. So I had to kick her out. Say, when are you coming down here to spend a few days with me again?”
“Hey, last time we really had fun, didn’t we?”
“Come clean. You adore Mike but consider me inadequate, and the subtext of your always asking me who I’m living with —”
“You drink out of too many used cups, kid.”
“— is that I’m not capable of a mature relationship.”
“Would you really like me to visit again?”
“Yeah. And I did speak to Kate last week. We quarrelled. I just happen to know Mom had them to dinner the night before and Kate was gratuitously rude to Blair.”
“Why, that’s terrible. I won’t have any of you taking sides. Blair may be a bit young for your mother, but he makes her happy and that ought to be good enough for the rest of us. He also happens to be a man devoted to many good causes. Like Greenpeace.”
“Come off it, Daddy. You hate his guts. What did you think of my latest piece in the American Spectator?”
“I thought it was misinformed and bigoted, but, hey, you sure can put a spin on words.”
“That’s my old man. Sorry. Got to run now. Natasha is taking me to lunch at the Union Square Café.”
“Natasha?”
“Why don’t you marry Solange?”
“I’m too fond of her to do that. Besides, you know what the American courts have ordained? Two strikes and you’re out.29 Would you really like me to come to New York again soon?”
“Yes. Oh, something I forgot to mention. The Washington Times has sent me Of Time and Fevers for review.”
“You mean somebody is actually going to publish McIver’s crap in New York?”
“Easy now.”
“Don’t misunderstand. I wouldn’t stoop to trying to influence you. Go ahead and review it. Praise it to the skies. It’s your reputation, not mine. Goodbye now.”
My first-born son thinks nothing of giving away a box of Cohibas I brought him and now Saul is willing to betray me for maybe $250. Some family I nourished. After I had calmed down with a couple of fingers of Cardhu, I lit a Montecristo and phoned Kate. “Am I calling at the wrong time?” I asked.
“Daddy, I was just about to phone you.”
“Kate, it has been reported to me that your mother had you and Gavin to dinner recently and you went out