“Unveiling Secrets: What Columbus Never Knew About His Journey”
It’s Sunday and I need fresh air and my own kind, so I’d planned on going to the East Village. Though maybe I should stick around. Philip Roth is looking me up and down, attempting to decipher my body through the gray herringbone pants, white button-down shirt, and navy velvet blazer covering it. If our courtship lasts long enough or the sex is good enough — or on the off chance that he simply enjoys my company — I bet he’d agree to meet my dad.
“Why don’t you give it a try? I think you’d really like it, Cathy,” my father said. It was summer 1997 and we were in our living room in Maplewood, a half-hour drive from Newark. I was still living at home after college, working at a bookstore, and saving up to move to New York. Dad was in his armchair enjoying his afternoon repast of black coffee, Parliament Lights, and Philip Roth’s latest, American Pastoral. The book rested between his hands and lap like a spoiled cat.
Post Comment