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POST-MORMON STORIES
A Comeback with the Ring of Truth
Confronted by a party guest with an axe to grind, I must flap my gums faster than they’ve flapped in my whole flippin’ life.
I performed an earlier version of this essay — which appears in somewhat different form again in The Accidental Terrorist — as part of the Essay Fiesta reading series at The Book Cellar in Chicago, December 21, 2009. Certain names, as they say, have been changed.
One of the common occurrences in my life (and maybe yours) is to walk away from a difficult confrontation, stew for a while, then smack my forehead when, far too late, the perfect rejoinder pops into my mind.¹
There may have been other occasions, but off the top of my head I can recall only one exception to this frustrating pattern. It was 2003, at a Christmas party I hosted at the house I was renting in Queens. I was married then, and the parties we threw were legendary affairs, packed with interesting people and replete with flowing booze.
On this particular occasion, in addition to the usual suspects, we’ve invited my old friend Katrina and her new husband Bernard. Katrina and I went to high school together in Utah as young Mormons, dated for a time afterward, and stayed in sporadic…
