The Great Derangement - Matt Taibbi [37]
“Thank God for that,” the husband says. “Because your tits look like hell.”
At this, Janine covered her ears.
“I’ve got another one,” said Laurie. “This guy goes to a doctor—”
“I can’t hear this,” said Janine, standing up. “I promised myself I would be pure.”
“Oh, honey,” said Laurie.
“No, I mean it.” And Janine walked away.
They asked me about my past. I told them a story that was in the ballpark of the truth, that I’d been married to a Thai woman who’d recently left me (actually I still had a Thai girlfriend). Appropriately enough, we’d just finished hearing a sermon from Fortenberry about King Solomon and how he took foreign wives from among the Perizzites, the Jebusites, the Ammonites, the Moabites, etc. “It’s just like that story about King Solomon,” I said. “He took foreign wives and they led him away from God. It was the same with me.”
“You were unequally yoked,” said Janine, who was recently divorced and still in obvious distress because of it. “I know how that is.”
“Wait,” said Laurie. “Which story about King Solomon? I missed that.”
“Oh, you know, honey,” said Janine. “The one with all them ites.”
“Oh, right,” said Laurie.
“My wife was like that,” I said. “I came home one day, and she was wearing a beret and had her bags packed. And she says to me, ‘I want to go to Paris! I want to ride the Bateau-Mouche!’ Like I’d been stopping her.”
“What’s the b-b-b…,” began Laurie.
“The Bateau-Mouche,” I said. “It’s some kind of French riverboat. People eat lunch on it and stuff.”
“And she thought you were tying her down? Keeping her from that?” asked Laurie.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Well, that’s awful. She sounds like a confused person,” Laurie said supportively.
“That she is,” I said. “But I keep telling her, God still loves her.”
“The funny thing,” Laurie said, “is that you kind of look French.”
I nearly spit up my unsweetened iced tea. The curse of John Kerry! The sad thing is, I knew what she meant. Christians have a certain look, and I don’t have it. The more “French” you look, the less Christian you probably are.
They started talking about the Victory and Deliverance that was coming up the next day. I was still unclear about what this was, although I understood that it had something to do with casting out demons. Laurie, for one, was very excited about the whole thing.
“I’m really looking forward to it,” she said, slapping one of her ample thighs. “I’m hoping to lose about forty pounds’ worth of demons.”
“Hey, that’s true,” said a man at our table. “They must weigh something, right?”
“Well, I hope so,” said Laurie seriously.
“I think there’s something to that,” I said. “A new fitness program. Dematrim.”
There was an uncomfortable pause at the table; my joke was not completely appropriate. But Laurie came to my rescue.
“Dematrim, I like that,” Laurie said coolly. “I could use some.”
But by that evening, Laurie was a little bit chastened. “You know all them jokes I been making about myself?” she said, looking troubled as she dropped her heaping tray of public-school-style spaghetti on the cafeteria table.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Well, my life coach tells me that’s bad. She says it’s like a curse. I’m bringing a curse upon myself with all of that self-defecating humor.”
“I think you mean self-deprecating,” said one of the other men at the table.
“Oh, goodness, yes,” she said. “Self-defecating would be something else, wouldn’t it, sweetie pie? Anyway, they say it’s bad.”
“That’s really a shame,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, it’s true. And I don’t want any more curses.”
“Me either,” I said.
HERE I HAVE a confession to make. It’s not something that’s easy to explain, but here goes. After two days of nearly constant religious instruction, songs, worship, and praise—two days that for me meant