Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer(55)
Billie took out the generic, lamer-than-an-adult-on-a-scooter tablet her parents got her for Christmas, and started typing. “Have you seen the weatherman with the hard-on?”
They watched together and laughed.
“The best part is when he says, ‘We’re looking at a hot one.’?”
She loaded a new video and said, “Check out the syphilis on this guinea pig.”
“I think that’s a hamster.”
“You’re missing the genital sores for the trees.”
“I hate to sound like my dad, but isn’t it insane that we have access to this shit?”
“It’s not insane. It’s the world.”
“Well, then isn’t the world insane?”
“Definitionally it can’t be. Insane is what other people are.”
“I really, really like how you think.”
“I really, really like that you would say that.”
“I’m not saying it; it’s true.”
“And another thing I really, really like is that you can’t bring yourself to say the l-word, because you’re afraid I’ll think you’re saying something you aren’t.”
“Huh?”
“Really, really, really like.”
He loved her.
She put the tablet in a coma and said, “Emet hi hasheker hatov beyoter.”
“What’s that?”
“Hebrew.”
“You speak Hebrew?”
“As Franz Rosenzweig famously responded when asked if he was religious, ‘Not yet.’ But I figured one of us should learn a bit in honor of your bar mitzvah.”
“Franz who? And wait, what’s it mean?”
“Truth is the safest lie.”
“Ah. Well: Anata wa subete o rikai shite iru baai wa, gokai suru hitsuyo ga arimasu.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“?‘If you understand everything, you must be misinformed.’ Japanese, I think. It was the epigraph to Call of Duty: Black Ops.”
“Yeah, I study Japanese on Thursdays. I just didn’t understand your usage.”
Sam wanted to show her the new synagogue he’d been working on for the past two weeks. He wondered if it was the best expression of the best of him, and he wondered if she’d like it.
The bus pulled up to the Washington Hilton—the hotel at which Sam’s bar mitzvah party would theoretically take place in two weeks, if an apology could be wrested from him—and the kids disembarked and scattered. Inside the lobby hung a large banner: WELCOME 2016 MODEL UNITED NATIONS. A few dozen suitcases and duffels were piled in the corner, nearly every one containing something it wasn’t supposed to. While Mark struggled to do a head count, Sam pulled his mother aside.
“Don’t make a big deal when you talk to everyone, OK?”
“A big deal about what?”
“About anything. Just don’t make a big deal.”
“You’re worried that I’m going to embarrass you?”
“Yes. You made me say it.”
“Sam, we’re here to have a blast—”
“Don’t say blast.”
“—and the absolute last thing I’d want to be is a drag.”
“Or drag.”
Mark gave Julia a thumbs-up, and she addressed the group: “Can I have everyone’s attention?”
Everyone withheld his attention.
“Yoo-hoo!”
“Or yoo-hoo,” Sam whispered to no one.
Mark unleashed a baritone that made charm bracelets into wind chimes: “Mouths shut, eyes up here, now!”
The kids silenced.
“OK,” Julia said. “Well, as you probably know, I’m Sam’s mom. He told me not to make a big deal, so I’ll keep this to the essentials. First, I want to let you all know how totally psyched I am to be here with you.”
Sam closed his eyes, willing himself to unlearn object permanence.
“This is going to be interesting, challenging, and awesome.”
Julia saw Sam’s closed eyes but didn’t know what she’d done.
“So…just a bit of housekeeping before passing out room keys, which I believe are cards and not keys, but we’ll call them keys. You’ll find that I’m a very laid-back person. But laid-backness is a two-way street. I know you guys are here to enjoy yourselves, but remember that you’re also representatives of Georgetown Day School, not to mention our archipelago home, the Federated States of Micronesia!”
She waited for applause. Or anything. Billie filled the silence with a single clap, and then she was holding the hot potato of awkwardness.
Julia continued: “So, I’m sure it goes without saying, but recreational drug use isn’t going to happen.”
Sam lost muscle control of his neck, his head slumping forward.
“If you have a prescription for something, of course that’s fine, so long as it isn’t used recreationally or otherwise abused. Now, I realize most of you aren’t even thirteen, but I also want to broach the subject of sexual relations.”
Sam walked to the side. Billie followed him.
Mark saw what was happening and intervened: “I think what Mrs. Bloch is trying to say is, don’t do anything you wouldn’t want us to tell your parents about. Because we’ll tell your parents about it, and then you’ll be in deep shit. Got it?”