Outsourcing I m not Jewish, but I m good friends with Sammy Greenbaum, whose father is a rabbi, so when I have a religious question, I go to Sammy, since he s the only friend I have whose father is a man of the cloth. We play basketball together twice a week, MW, 6:30-8:00 at the Y, so I have to save up my moral, ethical or religious questions. Sometimes I have nothing for him. This night in May I have several questions. If homosexuality is such a big deal, I say, posting Sammy up, why isn t it one of the commandments? Good question, he says. I ll ask Pops. I get the ball, do a drop step on him, head fake him into an absurd arm-swinging jump, and bank in an easy two. And what s happening to the sky? I ask. What do you mean, the sky? You seen it lately? What s there to see? It s the sky. It doesn t look right. Doesn t look right? Untitled-4 1
I ll show you after the game. After we shower, we meet out front. There s not much of the sky you can see from out front of the Y, even on a good night. Tonight it is cloudy and there is no moon. I don t see anything, Sammy says. It s the weather, I say. But I ve been watching it, and it doesn t look... right. Well, Sammy says, I certainly can t ask the Rebbe about something so random like this. You re right, I guess, I say. We have buses to catch in opposite directions, so we usually don t stand around and chitchat. You just keep an eye out, I tell him, turning left as he turns right. And remember the homosexual thing. Right. That night I get an e-mail from Sammy. Terse as usual, the subject heading reads: Rebbe sez: and the body reads, Your answer is in your question. I read the e-mail with very mild interest, because by now the sky has cleared and I have gone up on the roof and seen stuff that just isn t right. Like what? Sammy says when his girlfriend hands him the phone. Like seams? I say. Seems like what? No, seams. Like sewing seams? Yes. In the sky. Sammy laughs, but when I don t laugh with him he says, You re serious. Go look for yourself. While Sammy looks, I talk to Derishe, his girlfriend, who is Untitled-4 2
way too hot for Sammy, the nerd. I guess she likes the intellectual type. I noticed, too, she says, whispering. Noticed what? Stuff, she says. Stuff going on. Yeah? Like? Like the grass outside my building. The grass? Sammy comes back and takes the phone, but he doesn t say anything for a second, at least not to me. He whispers something to Derishe. Then he says, and he sounds kind of shook up, Let s go pay Pops a visit. Now? I say. The sky has seams and you re asking now? Sammy says. Man, I say, when you want to, you can really put on the Jew. I can practically hear him shrugging. It s a gift. We arrive at the rebbe s house, the three of us Derishe says she s too weirded out to stay at Sammy s alone and all the lights are on. My father, he thinks I own Con Edison, Sammy says. And I give him a snare and cymbal. Thank you. The rebbe meets us at the door before we can ring. Your muffler is shot, he says to me. Heard you a block away. Good evening, Rabbi Greenbaum, I say. He gives me a hug. It s such a long way that you can t visit once in a while? He s busy building an empire, Sammy says. Untitled-4 3
And when shall this beauty be my daughter-in-law and give me nice Jewish grandbabies? he says, kissing Derishe on the cheek. She s Presbyterian, Pops, remember? Sammy says. Hope, hope, the rabbi says. He leads us into the living room, offers us seats, but remains standing. I did some research, he said. Didn t take long. And? Sammy says. And the news is not good. I immediately feel guilty. It was I, after all, who noticed what was going on. Maybe if I hadn t been paying attention to things... The question is, what to do, Rebbe says. But what is happening? Sammy asks. What s happening? his father says, mockingly. What s happening? I ll show you what s happening! None of us had noticed an upside-down glass on the coffee table. He points and we see trapped inside a housefly. Observe, Rabbi Greenbaum says. He removes the glass and the fly attempts to escape, but manages a flight of only a few inches before it topples over onto its side, its wings vibrating. What the hell, Pops? Sammy says. Look closer. And we do. The fly looks shiny and, and... Plastic? I say. The rebbe bows. The powers of perception, he says. Plastic. I don t get it, Derishe says. It can sorta fly, but it s plastic? Exactly, Rebbe says. What s this mean? Sammy says. I have a theory, Rebbe says. But, like any good theory, I d like to test it out before I pronounce it. Let s have some nice chicken soup, then we ll go do some tests. Untitled-4 4
The sky has seams, the grass outside Derishe s apartment is strange, and now a plastic fly. And the man wants to eat soup? But, Rebbe, I start to say. Unh, unh, unh, he says, shuffling toward the kitchen. If the universe is falling apart, some nice chicken soup can t hurt anything. Derishe is Cuban, Ethiopian, Swedish, Thai and Greek. Her skin is the color of honey. She has one blue eye and one green eye. I have personally witnessed three accidents on the streets of Manhattan caused by her mere appearance. I have been mindlessly in love with her for as long as I have known her, which is exactly eighteen minutes longer than Sammy has. I m better looking than Sammy ask anyone and I make more money than he does, live in a better apartment and have a car, even though the muffler is, as the Rebbe says, shot. So why am I on the outside looking in at this nectarcomplexioned wonder of genetic lagniappe? Eh? Rebbe says to me. I am nudged out of my reverie by Rabbi Greenbaum s penetrating gaze. Sorry? The soup. How is the soup? Great, I say. He turns to Sammy. See? He says it s great. He s not tasting it, Sammy says. He s worshipping my girlfriend again. Oh, well, I understand, the rebbe says, beauty before soup any day. Derishe, who has been staring out the window, distracted through this whole exchange, says in an otherworldly voice, Are we the only ones who are seeing this? We can t be. I m too busy blushing and trying to hide in my soup to answer her. Untitled-4 5