Are You Alone on Purpose? Read Free

synagogue at all. Harry might break the Sabbath and do just as he pleased on Saturdays. On any day. And then what would all the people in his father’s congregation think of their rabbi? That was the only thing that worried his father, Harry knew.
    Well, they’d see, one day. All of them.
    Harry looked at his watch. Three more hours. Then he could get the hell out of the house. Maybe he’d call that girl from school, the one with the tits and the chewing gum and the big crucifix. What was her name?
    â€œYou like Scrabble, don’t you?” insisted his father.
    This was really pretty weird. Harry knew his father had no more desire to spend the enforced boredom of a Saturday afternoon with his son than Harry had to spend it with him.
    â€œOkay, sure,” said Harry casually. “Why not?”
    â€œGreat,” said the rabbi. “I’ll set it up in the kitchen.” And he bustled off after the Scrabble board. Harry stared after him, speculating. He wanted something from Harry. Had to be. But what?
    And what was that girl’s name? Gina. Gina Something. Collarusso.
    He’d just love to introduce her to his father.
    Â 
    About halfway through the game, just when Harry had about decided he’d been mistaken, that the old man really only wanted a little fake father-and-son bonding to bolster his ego, his father finally, tentatively, came out with it. “That Shandling family,” he said. “I understand the girl is at your school?”
    Aha, thought Harry. Now we’re getting somewhere. He squinted at the board. It was his turn, but he hadn’t put out a word yet, even though the egg timer had almost run out of salt. At the synagogue, his father had marched Harry off in front of everybody. The good father, the good rabbi, ready and able to discipline when necessary. Only Harry knew the truth. His father hadn’t said anything. And he wouldn’t now, either. He’d back down. Harry would bet on it.
    He was really very surprised it had come up again.
    The egg timer ran out of salt. Harry had not put out a word.
    â€œWant me to help you?” asked his father.
    Harry ignored him. He made the word WAS, building on the W of his father’s WOBBLE.
    Quickly, his father made the word SERENE, building on the S of WAS. Double word score. The crossword on the board was listing down lopsidedly into one corner. “I, uh, hope you plan to apologize to that girl when you see her at school,” he said.
    Harry looked his father right in the eye. “Sure,” he said. “I plan to tell her exactly how sorry I am.” After a couple of seconds, his father looked away.
    There was silence. Again, Harry deliberately waited the full three minutes on the egg timer before putting out a word on the board. NO, built on the N from SERENE.
    â€œWhat,” said the rabbi, “uh, what exactly is the problem with her brother? I didn’t think he looked retarded. . . .”
    Harry looked up from the Scrabble board and watched his father’s face as he rambled on.
    â€œI noticed him during services. He was davening . . . and his face isn’t, you know... of course, he didn’t talk later, but I thought maybe he was just shy. . . he can’t be retarded.” Rabbi Roth was not looking at Harry. “I thought he looked like such a nice boy.”
    You are too stupid to live, thought Harry. He was suddenly swept by a wave of anger. So that’s it, he thought. That’s what he’s interested in. That boy. That retard. What a joke.
    â€œIt’s your turn,” said Harry.
    â€œOh.” The rabbi looked at the board. Harry’s consistent use of little words had severely limited the crossword formulation, so that there were now only a few places that could be used. He frowned. Then he made the word THE, attaching to the E of SERENE, and Harry knew he had given up. The game would be over in another couple of moves.
    â€œSuch a nice