I had forgotten on my plate. I took a bite of fruit salad to moisten my mouth. When I looked back up, I saw Russell’s eyes on me again. At least his tinted glasses were faced in my direction.
“I think you’re really brave to talk to Dobie Jay Johnson,” Donna said. Russell turned his glasses toward her. “The poor guy sounds like he’s had an incredibly painful childhood. I mean, it makes me almost physically ill just to think about it. Is he getting therapy?”
“Oh please,” Nan objected. “This guy killed six women.”
“He’s still a human being,” Donna replied, her soulful eyes widening. “He can still learn. We’re all children of the same universe, after all. We need to take loving care of each other no matter what.”
“Including your father?” Nan inquired, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
“Of course, including my father,” Donna answered, throwing up her hands. Unfortunately, one of her hands still held a fork, which went flying, just missing Travis’s head. “I may have…well…a complex relationship with my father, but love is still at the base of it.”
“Then why are you trying to drive him crazy writing a book about his mob connections?” Nan demanded.
“I’m not trying to drive him crazy,” Donna retorted, her voice squeaking on the high notes. “Just the opposite. The truth will set him free. It’s all part of the healing process. See, the thing is, my whole family is in this incredible state of denial. But if they can learn to communicate with real integrity, then they can learn how to be a real family again.” She smiled broadly in closing.
“Oh sure,” Nan drawled. “Right after they pull their bodies out of the bay.”
Donna’s smile disappeared. She frowned and looked at her plate. “Where’d I put my fork?” she murmured.
Travis picked it up from where it had landed on the floor and handed it to her without comment.
Everyone was quiet after that. I was surprised that no one jumped in to defend Donna, not even Travis. But maybe they were all considering Nan’s suggestion. I certainly was. Could Donna’s exposure of her father’s organized crime connections amount to a form of murder? His business associates weren’t going to be real happy about it if they were mentioned, that was for sure. No wonder he was so frantic to retrieve the copies of her manuscript.
When Carrie broke the silence a few minutes later, both my mind and my body were full. Only my plate was empty.
“As most of you know, I am endeavoring to write a novel of speculative fiction,” she said to the table at large. “I’ve written a few short stories. Two have been published. But this is my first attempt at a novel-length work. It’s set in the not-so-far future. The AIDS virus has infected the animals of the world.” She winked largely at Travis. “Everyone is a vegetarian now, of necessity. But there is a new plague upon the earth. One that affects the mind as well as the body. One that affects the spirit.” She opened her mouth to go on, then seemed to change her mind. “I don’t want to give too much away.”
“Carrie!” I yelped. “You can’t leave it there. I want to know what happens.”
“You’ll be the first to read a copy of my manuscript once I’m completely finished,” she promised.
“That’s what she told us,” Mave said with a chuckle. “Gotta admit she’s whet my appetite. Great build-up.”
“It’s an age-old technique,” said Nan. “Fictionus Interrup-tus.”
This time I wasn’t the only one who laughed at Nan’s words. She was a funny woman, even more so when she left the cruelty out of her jokes.
After the laughter had died away, Joyce told me she was writing a cookbook to raise funds for Operation Soup Pot.
“The recipes are easy,” she said, “but I’m supposed to insert little human interest pieces between them. About the people that work at the Operation and about some of our clients.” She sighed. “I’m not
“I think you’re really brave to talk to Dobie Jay Johnson,” Donna said. Russell turned his glasses toward her. “The poor guy sounds like he’s had an incredibly painful childhood. I mean, it makes me almost physically ill just to think about it. Is he getting therapy?”
“Oh please,” Nan objected. “This guy killed six women.”
“He’s still a human being,” Donna replied, her soulful eyes widening. “He can still learn. We’re all children of the same universe, after all. We need to take loving care of each other no matter what.”
“Including your father?” Nan inquired, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
“Of course, including my father,” Donna answered, throwing up her hands. Unfortunately, one of her hands still held a fork, which went flying, just missing Travis’s head. “I may have…well…a complex relationship with my father, but love is still at the base of it.”
“Then why are you trying to drive him crazy writing a book about his mob connections?” Nan demanded.
“I’m not trying to drive him crazy,” Donna retorted, her voice squeaking on the high notes. “Just the opposite. The truth will set him free. It’s all part of the healing process. See, the thing is, my whole family is in this incredible state of denial. But if they can learn to communicate with real integrity, then they can learn how to be a real family again.” She smiled broadly in closing.
“Oh sure,” Nan drawled. “Right after they pull their bodies out of the bay.”
Donna’s smile disappeared. She frowned and looked at her plate. “Where’d I put my fork?” she murmured.
Travis picked it up from where it had landed on the floor and handed it to her without comment.
Everyone was quiet after that. I was surprised that no one jumped in to defend Donna, not even Travis. But maybe they were all considering Nan’s suggestion. I certainly was. Could Donna’s exposure of her father’s organized crime connections amount to a form of murder? His business associates weren’t going to be real happy about it if they were mentioned, that was for sure. No wonder he was so frantic to retrieve the copies of her manuscript.
When Carrie broke the silence a few minutes later, both my mind and my body were full. Only my plate was empty.
“As most of you know, I am endeavoring to write a novel of speculative fiction,” she said to the table at large. “I’ve written a few short stories. Two have been published. But this is my first attempt at a novel-length work. It’s set in the not-so-far future. The AIDS virus has infected the animals of the world.” She winked largely at Travis. “Everyone is a vegetarian now, of necessity. But there is a new plague upon the earth. One that affects the mind as well as the body. One that affects the spirit.” She opened her mouth to go on, then seemed to change her mind. “I don’t want to give too much away.”
“Carrie!” I yelped. “You can’t leave it there. I want to know what happens.”
“You’ll be the first to read a copy of my manuscript once I’m completely finished,” she promised.
“That’s what she told us,” Mave said with a chuckle. “Gotta admit she’s whet my appetite. Great build-up.”
“It’s an age-old technique,” said Nan. “Fictionus Interrup-tus.”
This time I wasn’t the only one who laughed at Nan’s words. She was a funny woman, even more so when she left the cruelty out of her jokes.
After the laughter had died away, Joyce told me she was writing a cookbook to raise funds for Operation Soup Pot.
“The recipes are easy,” she said, “but I’m supposed to insert little human interest pieces between them. About the people that work at the Operation and about some of our clients.” She sighed. “I’m not
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