Don't Cry Now by Joy Fielding Page A

her surprise. “What about her do you find ‘cool’?”
    Lauren shrugged. “I think she helps people.”
    â€œHelps them? How—by exploiting them in front of millions of people?”
    â€œHow is she exploiting them?” Lauren asked.
    â€œCan you pass the chow mein?” Sam said.
    â€œShe exploits them because she misleads them into thinking that by confessing their problems in front of millions of people, they can solve them. She offers thirty-second sound bites as solutions. And she provides a forum for every kook and exhibitionist in the country. She legitimizes their highly questionable behavior by making it sound like the norm, which it definitely is not.” Bonnie paused, her mind still reeling from her earlier confrontation with Rod, anger fueling her words. “How many twin lesbians are out there who have seduced their mother’s boyfriends, for God’s sake? Or Peeping Toms who married their first cousins after spying them making love to their fathers? Do you think that’s normal? Do you think that by having these people on her show that Marla Brenzelle, whom I used to know as Marlene Brenzel, by the way, is interested in helping anyone other than herself and her precious ratings? I mean, whatever happened to discretion? Whatever happened to common sense?”
    Her unexpected outburst brought silence to the room.
    â€œThat was some speech,” Rod said quietly.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Bonnie quickly apologized. “I’m not sure where that came from. I didn’t mean to sound so—”
    â€œDisdainful?” Rod asked, pointedly.
    â€œI’m sorry. I really didn’t mean…”
    â€œI hadn’t realized you had such strong feelings about what I do every day,” Rod said.
    â€œWhen did you know Marla Brenzelle?” Sam asked.
    â€œWe went to school together,” Bonnie told him, eyes on Rod.
    â€œCool,” Sam said.
    â€œLook,” Bonnie said to her husband, “I wasn’t trying to denigrate what you do….”
    â€œGood thing you weren’t trying,” he said.
    â€œShe asked me if I’d like to come on the show someday,” Lauren said, dragging a forkful of long yellow noodles into her mouth. “She said it might help me come to terms with what’s happened if I were to talk about it.”
    â€œIt would certainly help you to talk to someone, yes,” Bonnie quickly agreed. “But talk to your father. Talk to a therapist. Talk to me,” she offered.
    â€œWhy would I want to talk to you?” Lauren asked.
    â€œLauren,” Rod cautioned. “Take it easy.”
    â€œWell,” Bonnie began, the words emerging painfully,scratching against the sides of her throat, “I know what it’s like to lose a mother you love.”
    â€œI didn’t lose my mother. She was murdered. Was yours?” Lauren asked provocatively.
    â€œNo,” Bonnie said. Not exactly, she thought.
    â€œThen you don’t know anything.” Lauren pushed her chair away from the table. “I’m not very hungry. Can I be excused?” In the next instant, she was gone.
    Rod reached across the table to pat Bonnie’s hand. “Sorry, honey. You didn’t deserve that.” He lay down his fork, stared out the front window at the quiet suburban street. “It’s been a horrible day for everyone.” He ran his hand through his hair, pushed his plate away. “I’m not that hungry either.” He stood up, stretched. “Actually, I’m kind of restless. Would you mind if I went out for a bit?”
    â€œNow? It’s after nine o’clock.”
    â€œJust for a short drive. I won’t be long.” He was already on his way out of the kitchen. Bonnie quickly followed him into the hall. “I just need some time to clear my head,” he said at the front door.
    â€œRod, I’m sorry,” Bonnie began. “You know I