“Twenty years ago I slipped a note onto the desk of a girl sitting on her own in the New York Public Library. Six months ago the third of our beautiful children was born. And I know there’s got to be a connection there somewhere . . .”

I looked around the table. The laughter was indulgent. Eyes were shining.

“Here’s the point in the routine where I say something that demonstrates that I’m not a complete imbecile. That’s my shtick, right? Idiot savant says something profound. And I’ve been searching blindly for what that thing is, and truthfully, I don’t know. I have a wife who is more intelligent than me, and who demands from me a level of honesty which no man can reasonably be expected to achieve; I struggle to see connections that are obvious to her, and most likely to all of you. Though, Elsa, I genuinely do try to meet the standard you set.”

Elsa was looking at me levelly. She nodded, half smiled.

“Also, full disclosure about a little lie of omission: I’ve started shaving the outside of my ears and hoping you won’t notice.” Elsa pretended shock. I turned away from her. “But here I am with the most beautiful woman I know, with our beautiful family, in the happiest country on earth. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“So why won’t you stay?” said Hedda loudly.

“We should, Hedda. We should. These past eight months have been amazing. But you guys knocked me off my game. Everyone’s so fucking incorruptible and so fucking nice. And I can’t make satire about good people doing good things. I need sleaze, American-style. Quickly, before the newspaper closes my column.”

People were laughing again. At the far end of the room I could see Vee looking up from her screen at me, anxious. There was the real reason we had to return home. In the most perfect place on earth, Vee was unhappy. We had not understood how hard she would take moving to this strange and beautiful land; what it would cost her to leave behind her friends and her social status, to find herself at the bottom of the heap.

I smiled at Vee. Vee smiled back, uncertain, then returned to her game. Elsa, who had followed my gaze, turned toward me, nodded.

I said, “I thought I was used to being a foreigner. I thought it came easily to me. And in Washington, D.C., it pretty much does. But here I really am a foreigner. You all very kindly speak my language to me, but here I can see there is this part of Elsa that I can’t fully know, and it’s available to all of you, and not to me. And if I’m honest I’m a touch jealous of you all for having that part of her, when I don’t.” Our friends clapped and smiled.