The Narcissism of Small Differences
Page 26
"Of course they do," said Todd, shaking his head. "It's when no one is looking."
"I thought that place had historical status," said Malcolm.
Todd shook his head again, slowly and wearily. "If it did, it doesn't matter now. It's gone. It's just a mound of Polynesian rubble."
"What happened?" said Ana. "Why'd they tear it down?"
Todd flagged the bartender. "Why else do they tear anything down in Detroit? For a parking lot."
Joe didn't say anything. He was sorry to hear about the Chin Tiki, but it was no surprise. Brendan had been right. A chain-link fence had mysteriously appeared around the place a few weeks back and that was always the first clue. Every once in a while, it meant that they were rehabbing a building, but mostly it meant that it was going down. Joe was glad that he'd gotten a chance to go inside, even if he had made a fool of himself there.
In a way, he was fine with the place being gone. Maybe it was time to stop plundering the past for everything that was amusing or silly or ironic about it. He was getting tired of detachment, of things being funny for all the wrong reasons. It felt like business for the young. Irony in one's forties seemed, well, not necessarily sad—it just felt as though perhaps one's remaining time could be better spent. Maybe that was something he could write about. Confessions of a Broken Hipster: One Man's Aimless Journey from Cynicism to Sincerity.
Meh. Then again, maybe he would keep thinking.
In the meantime, he would still laugh, of course, but he would try to laugh less at the earnestness of others, at good intentions gone astray, at ill-placed irony, pretentiousness, and ignorance, at the bad masquerading as good.
Oh, who was he kidding? Those were the best things to laugh at. Yet it wasn't hard to figure out why he was feeling this way. While everyone was talking about the Chin Tiki, he glanced at Ana, who was standing over near Todd. Finally, he caught her eye. She walked up to join him at the bar. They both turned away from the others for a moment. Ana stood next to him, her shoulder pressed tightly up to his, and raised her glass of wine. He raised his pint glass and touched it to hers.
What they hadn't told anyone and probably wouldn't for some time, until they were ready to have a party, maybe in the fall, was that they had gotten married.
When Ana proposed to him shortly after they got back together, it had finally seemed like the right thing to do. And really, what was the difference, one way or the other? They had talked about it in the past, went back and forth on it, with each of them having taken turns supporting or opposing the idea. They had never meant not getting married to be some sort of statement. They had just never felt the need to commit in that manner, until they finally did. And when they did, it had felt good to do something sincere.
After they left City Hall in Traverse City on Friday afternoon, they'd each called their parents. Was it really a surprise that everyone was thrilled?
"Finally, finally," they had all said. Joe and Ana tempered the whole experience by telling them that they had also both quit their jobs and were going to travel for a while. Joe was going to write while Ana was going to figure out her next move. They could practically hear the eyes rolling over the phone.
"That's all right," Joe's mother had said. "You just take a little break, and when you get back—"
By that time, Joe had hung up.
Acknowledgments
I'd like to give special thanks to these people for their help and continued support:
Rita Simmons, my best friend, whom I can't imagine a life without, who helped me finally break the nine-year curse between novels.
Keith McLenon, Nick Marine, and Tim Suliman for the inspiration, the laughs, the IPAs and stouts, and, most importantly, the friendship.
DeAnn Forbes for coffee talks, for offering to help before I even know what I need, and for being the first badass woman I met in advertising.
Tim Teegarden for the slow rolls and the meticulous notations.
My sister, Susan Jane Summerlee, for overall wonderfulness.
Doug Blanchard (for the cool covers), Donna McGuire (for unerring eye and tall insights), Luis Resto (for bass, keyboards, and melodica), Doug Shimmin (for oud, shamisen, and bouzouki), Dave Toorongian (for the exotica), Jim Dudley (for perseverance), Jeff Edwards (for aloha shirts), Doug Coombe (for photographs), Dave Chow (for the Chin Tiki; please forgive my liberties), not to mention true-blue ad pals Eric Weltner, Holly Sorscher, David Bierman, Terry Hughes, Barry Burdiak, Gail Offen, Duffy Patten, Cristina Lorenzetti, John Roe, Nancy Wellinger, Dave Colucci, Lyn Webb, Michelle Andonian, Sue Fiorello, and longtimers Andrew Brown, Jim Potter, Tony Park, Mark Mueller, and Michael Lloyd.
Sandra Dittrich, Debbie Karnowsky, Mark Simon, and Cindy Sikorski for being my favorite CDs.
Michael Jackman, Walter Wasacz, Geoff George, and Travis Wright for their expertise and technical guidance.
The memory of Christopher Towne Leland for still being an inspiration. (Hey, guy!)
Jud Laghi for the excellent representation.
Sally van Haitsma for still being in my corner.
Ibrahim Ahmad, Susannah Lawrence, and all the folks at Akashic for their patience and for being so great to work with.
Claudia Tarolo and Marco Zapparoli at Marcos y Marcos for their belief in my work.
Cary Loren of Book Beat and all the dedicated booksellers in the US and abroad who have supported me over the years.
The local artists whom I shamelessly name-checked in this book: Little Bang Theory, Satori Circus, White Stripes, the Dirtbombs, Sufjan Stevens, the Detroit Cobras, the High Strung, Black Milk, Richie Hawtin, Esham, Trick-Trick, and the Stooges.
To the Emory, Ferndale, and Detroit: my favorite hangs.
Speramus meliora; resurget cineribus.
MICHAEL ZADOORIAN is the critically praised author of Beautiful Music, as well as The Leisure Seeker—the basis for the 2018 Sony Pictures Classics film starring Helen Mirren and Donald Sutherland. Zadoorian is a recipient of a Kresge Artist Fellowship in the Literary Arts, the Columbia University Anahid Literary Award, the Great Lakes Colleges Association New Writers Award, the GLIBA Great Lakes Great Reads award, and a Michigan Notable Book Award. His other books are Second Hand: A Novel, and the story collection The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit. His work has appeared in the Literary Review, Beloit Fiction Journal, American Short Fiction, Witness, Great Lakes Review, North American Review, Detroit Noir, and the Huffington Post. A lifelong resident of the Detroit area, he lives with his wife in a 1937 bungalow filled with cats and objects that used to be in the houses of other people. His latest novel is The Narcissism of Small Differences.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.
Published by Akashic Books
©2020 by Michael Zadoorian
Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-61775-817-1
eISBN-13: 978-1-61775-825-6
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019943615
First printing
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