＃１１６

    “You’re a skeptic now?”
    “Hardly. Skeptics place their faith in doubt. Very suspicious.”
    “A nihilist, then.”
    “Don’t see the point.”
    “Postmodern?”
    “Didn’t happen.”
    “Didn’t happen?”
    “Didn’t happen.”
    “Christ, insufferable is what you are. What do you mean it didn’t happen?”
    “We never got past modernism. Not really.”
    “You’re a modernist.”
    “Too old.”
    “Neoclassicist?”
    “Too young.”
    “You’re fifty.”
    “Too young.”
    “Argh. Will you just tell me what you believe already?”
    “I believe this gentleman is here to take our order.”
    “Yes, sir. What can I get for you today?”
    “I’d like a cappuccino.”
    “Very good, and for you, sir?”
    “So you do like things.”
    “Everybody likes things.”
    “But you like things. Why do you want a cappuccino?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know?”
    “—are you having anything today, sir?”
    “He’ll have a piccolo.”
    “No, I won’t.”
    “Yes, he will. Watch.”
    “Fine, I’ll have a piccolo. Thank you.”
    “A cappuccino and a piccolo, right away.”
    “...”
    “...”
    “He looked a bit like James.”
    “Don’t look so smug. Why did you want a cappuccino?”
    “I told you I don’t know.”
    “You don’t like the taste?”
    “I do like the taste.”
    “Then that’s why you want a cappuccino.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “What do you mean you don’t think so?”
    “I think it’s incidental.”
    “The taste?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You’re telling me that you have no idea why you just ordered a cappuccino, knowing full well that in five minutes you will very likely enjoy the taste of it.”
    “Not at all. Look how busy they are. We’ll be waiting ten, at least.”
    “You know what I meant.”
    “Do I?”
    “I know you do.”
    “Alright, I do. I still think it’s incidental.”
    “Then you’re— there’s a word for this. Not hedonism...”
    “Aleatoric. You’re thinking of Boulez.”
    “Yes! You know it. Aleatoric, that’s what you are.”
    “I'm lucky that I'm not. I’m fifty, remember? My heart couldn’t handle it.”
    “A heart attack will be the least of your worries if you won’t just tell me what the hell you are these days. I haven’t seen you in years and this is the way you behave?”
    “You really want to know, then. What I am.”
    “I do.”
    “Really, really?”
    “Yes, for chrissakes.”
    “...”
    “...”
    “I’m well, Michael. How are you?”
    “...”
    “...”
    “You’re a bastard.”
    “Always was.”
    “...”
    “...”
    “I’m well, too. How are the kids?”