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"But I could say that about anything. I don't really think any-
thing is for me."

§
As I left the synagogue, Rabbi Blatt reminded me that he'd
always be there and that I could change my mind at any time. I told him
again that I'd think about it, not really believing that I would and not
intending to set foot in the synagogue again. On the way home I bought
a pack of cigarettes and a copy of the Times at a little bodega. I smoked
a few as I walked, choking back old tears, feeling a certain gloom form-
ing around me although the air was pleasant enough and the sky above
me was clear and cloudless. I thought a little about Moira and cursed
myself for not being right for her. I stopped in a tobacconist's shop on
my block and rifled around in elegant wooden humidors, fingering
cigars and checking price tags. I walked away empty-handed.
I got into my apartment and didn't bother to turn the lights
on. I shuffled into the kitchen and opened up a can of beans, dumped
them into a bowl and microwaved them, flipping through the Times
that I had bought on the way back. In the Arts and Leisure section there
was an article about a new book about growing up in Soviet Berlin. I re-
trieved my bowl of beans from the microwave and sat down with them
in front of the television, and decided to rent a porno on pay-per-view.
As I sat on my couch, eating beans and watching mounds of pink flesh
heave and thrust on the screen, I wondered what I would do next.

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