I was not surprised that she had encountered resistance. Rosie habitually took a direct approach to communication. In speaking to me, it was effective, indeed necessary, but others frequently interpreted her directness as confrontational. Jerome did not convey an impression of wanting to explore win-win solutions.
Now Rosie wanted me to ‘stand up to him’ and demonstrate that we ‘wouldn’t be pushed around’. This was exactly the sort of behaviour that I instruct my martial-arts students to avoid. If both parties have the goal of establishing dominance and hence apply the algorithm of ‘respond with greater force’, the ultimate result will be the disablement or death of one party. Over laundry.
But the laundry situation was minor in the context of the week as a whole. Because there had been a disaster.
I am often accused of overusing that word, but any reasonable person would accept that it was an appropriate term to describe the failure of my closest friends’ marriage, involving two dependent children. Gene and Claudia were in Australia, but the situation was about to cause further disruption to my schedule.
Gene and I had conversed over a Skype link, and the communication quality had been poor. Gene may also have been drunk. He seemed reluctant to divulge the details, probably because:
1. People are generally unwilling to talk openly about sexual activity involving themselves.
2. He had behaved extremely stupidly.
After promising Claudia that he would abandon his project to have sex with a woman from each country of the world, he had failed to honour his commitment. The violation had occurred at a conference in Göteborg, Sweden.
‘Don, show a bit of compassion,’ he said. ‘What were the odds of her living in Melbourne? She was Icelandic.’
I pointed out that I was Australian and living in the United States. Simple disproof by counter-example of Gene’s ludicrous proposition that people remain in their own countries.
‘Okay, but Melbourne. And knowing Claudia. What are the odds of that?’
‘Difficult to calculate.’ I pointed out that Gene should have asked this question before adding to his tally of nationalities. If he wanted a reasonable estimate of the probability, I would need information about migration patterns and the size of Claudia’s social and professional network.
There was another factor. ‘In calculating the risk, I need to know how many women you’ve seduced since you agreed not to. Obviously the risk increases proportionately.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘If you want an estimate. I’m presuming the answer is not zero,’ I said.
‘Don, conferences—overseas conferences—don’t count. That’s why people go to conferences. Everyone understands that.’
‘If Claudia understands, why is there a problem?’
‘You’re not supposed to get caught. What happens in Göteborg stays in Göteborg.’
‘Presumably Icelandic Woman was unaware of this rule.’
‘She’s in Claudia’s book club.’
‘Is there some exception for book clubs?’
‘Forget it. Anyway, it’s over. Claudia’s thrown me out.’
‘You’re homeless?’
‘More or less.’
‘Incredible. Have you told the Dean?’ The Dean of Science in Melbourne was extremely concerned with the public image of the university. It seemed to me that having a homeless person in charge of the Department of Psychology would be, to use her habitual expression, ‘not a good look’.
‘I’m taking a sabbatical,’ said Gene. ‘Who knows, maybe I’ll turn up in New York and buy you a beer.’
This was an amazing thought—not the beer, which I could purchase myself, but the possibility of having my longest-standing friend in New York.
Excluding Rosie and family members, I had a total of six friends. They were, in descending order of total contact time:
1. Gene, whose advice had often proved unsound, but who had a fascinating theoretical knowledge of human sexual attraction, possibly prompted by his own libido, which was excessive for a man of fifty-seven.
2. Gene’s wife, Claudia, a clinical psychologist and the world’s most sensible person. She had shown extraordinary tolerance of Gene’s infidelity prior to his promise to reform. I wondered what would happen to their daughter Eugenie and Gene’s son Carl from his first marriage. Eugenie was now nine and Carl seventeen.
3. Dave Bechler, a refrigeration engineer whom I had met at a baseball game on my first visit to New York with Rosie. We now convened weekly on the scheduled ‘boys’ night out’ to discuss baseball, refrigeration and marriage.
4. Sonia, Dave’s wife. Despite being slightly overweight (estimated BMI twenty-seven), she was extremely beautiful and had a well-paid job as the financial controller for an in-vitro fertilisation facility. These attributes were a source of stress for Dave, who believed that she might leave him for someone more attractive or rich. Dave and Sonia had been attempting to reproduce for five years, using IVF technology (oddly, not at Sonia’s place of employment, where I presumed she would receive a discount and access to high-quality genes if required). They had recently succeeded and the baby was scheduled to be born on Christmas Day.
5. (equal) Isaac Esler, an Australian-born psychiatrist whom at one time I had considered the most likely person to be Rosie’s biological father.
5. (equal) Judy Esler, Isaac’s American wife. Judy was a pottery artist who also raised funds for charity and research. She was responsible for some of the decorative objects cluttering our apartment.
Six friends, assuming the Eslers were still my friends. There had been zero contact since an incident involving bluefin tuna six weeks and five days earlier. But even four friends were more than I had ever had before. Now there was a possibility that all but one of them—Claudia—could be in New York with me.
I acted quickly and asked the Dean of Medicine at Columbia, Professor David Borenstein, if Gene could take his sabbatical there. Gene, as his name coincidentally indicates, is a geneticist, but specialises in evolutionary psychology. He could be located in psychology, genetics or medicine, but I recommended against psychology. Most psychologists disagree with Gene’s theories, and I forecast that Gene would not need any more conflict in his life. It was an insight that required a level of empathy which would not have been available to me prior to living with Rosie.
I advised the Dean that, as a full professor, Gene would not want to do any proper work. David Borenstein was familiar with sabbatical protocol, which dictated that Gene would be paid by his university in Australia. He was also aware of Gene’s reputation.
‘If he can co-author a few papers and keep his hands off the PhD students, I can find an office for him.’
‘Of course, of course.’ Gene was an expert at getting published with minimal effort. We would have vast amounts of free time to talk about interesting topics.
‘I’m serious about the PhD students. If he gets into trouble, I’ll hold you accountable.’