The Geographer's Library

Jon Fasman
Professor Jadid on the shoulder incongruously. “Also probably the best cook
in Wickenden.” He stood grinning, waiting a beat too long for the rest of us
to appreciate the joke. The professor just smiled, closed his eyes, and bobbed
his head slightly from side to side in a gesture of agreeable sufferance. “Can
we bring you gentlemen a drink along with the menu?”
The professor looked up at me. I asked for one of whatever they had on
draft. Jadid ordered a glass of Fumé Blanc. I had no idea whether that was
beer, wine, or liquor.
“I didn’t know you cooked,” I said, slipping onto the banquette across
from Professor Jadid.
“Indeed. A necessary and civilizing art. Culinary proficiency is not among
my wife’s many, many virtues. And in my family the men have always been
cooks by proclivity and teachers and rabbis by profession. I suppose one out
of two isn’t bad for an immigrant.” Jerry brought an amber-colored beer for
me (“Harpoon’s Christmas”) and white wine (“Sakonnet’s finest”) for the
professor.
“Rabbis?” I watched him tuck his napkin into his starched collar and did
the same.
“Yes, well, in most countries, at least, my name leads most people in
another direction. I am now almost totally nonpracticing. I remain Jewish for
persecution purposes alone, as my elder son jokes. A reverse casualty of the
Second World War, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “You know, I find nothing remarkable about my own speech,
but for some reason the first question virtually every former student of mine
ever asks, once we’re speaking as friends rather than as professor and student,
is where my accent comes from.”
I laughed, and he nodded slowly, eyes closed, grinning like a sleepy cat.
“Yes. Well, what would you guess? Bear in mind, you cannot offend me by
guessing incorrectly, nor, unless I read you too simply, do I believe you will
guess accurately. But first, while you’re guessing, may I order us lunch? Is
there anything you don’t eat? No? Good.” He raised his hand, and Jerry’s wife
walked over, notebook in hand and smile halfheartedly plastered in place.
Professor Jadid ordered a half dozen Wellfleets and a half dozen Malpeques,
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