Infestation: A Small Town Nightmare by Tanya R. Taylor Page B

book being published and all. I never knew some of these
things about you. I wish you would've shared them with us." Steven
said. Marie was becoming noticeably uptight, glancing back at the
amazingly tolerant people behind him.
    Steven cleared his throat. "Mom asked
for you lately."
    "Steven, I don’t think this is the
place…"
    "I know. I know," he glanced back.
"We'll talk soon?"
    "Yes," Marie answered
softly.
    "Give Dave my regards."
    "I will." She watched as he exited the
bookstore.
     
     
    "What a great turn-out it was!" Dave
said as they buckled up to leave the parking lot of the store. "The
people of this town absolutely love you."
    "I wouldn't call it love , Dave. They
appreciate what I was crazy enough to share with them. That's
all."
    "You know that's not true." Dave made
a left-turn onto the freeway.
    "My publisher accepted my manuscript,
did some really good marketing—that's pretty much it," Marie
delineated. "Sometimes, I wonder what got into me to write a
self-help book that's so unconventional in this Bible-belt town. To
be honest with you… I didn't think anyone would buy it. Everyone's
controlled by tradition around here and mere church attendance that
they never get any deeper; you know? Anything that's outside the
box scares them and they shun you."
    "From the massive crowd inside that
bookshop today, I couldn't tell that that was the case," Dave
said.
    "I feel that people who faced some
really tough circumstances in life yearned for something more.
That's probably what prompted many of them to take a chance on the
book and to read it with an open mind. By doing so, they were able
to see where it wasn't one to veer them away from any religious
beliefs, but one that would deepen their spiritual experience based
on my own experiences. Furthermore, I'm pretty sure that a lot of
people who showed up today actually came in from nearby
towns."
    "Maybe you're right." Dave glanced at
her. "I saw Steven there. He didn't see me seated at the
back."
    Marie was quiet.
    "What did he say?"
    "Nothing important."
    Dave glanced her way again. "You
haven't as much as mentioned even one of their names in at least a
year."
    "And that's just perfect," Marie
answered.
     
    They pulled onto the drive-way in
front of the single-storey white, trimmed yellow house. Marie
stepped out first. Dave immediately noticed that the most recent
topic had agitated her a bit. Inside, Marie tossed her coat onto
the arm of the couch and proceeded into their bedroom to
undress.
    "We need to talk." Dave followed
her.
    "Why? What do we need to talk about?"
She sat down after pulling off her stockings.
    "Your family."
    "My family is here, Dave," Marie gave
him a look that spoke volumes.
    "You know what I mean." He sat next to
her. "I know they caused you a lot of pain, honey and I realize
that for the sake of sanity, you had to create a distance. I know
that. You just haven't been the same since your dad died last
year."
    "Do you expect me to be?" Marie's
response was rigid.
    "What I'm trying to say is that you
haven't really grieved since he passed away and I'm afraid your
feelings concerning your family is what's preventing you from doing
so," Dave cautiously explored.
    "That's where you're wrong." Marie's
eyes welled with tears. "All I've done since Dad's death was
grieve. You have no idea. Every day of my life, I think about him.
I reflect on how he made me feel as his daughter—like there was
nothing too good for me, nothing that I could not achieve. I think
about how he was the only one who ever cared about me in my whole
family and believed in me." She angrily wiped the tears that had
streamed down her cheeks. "He was the only one that stood up to my
mother when she treated me like I was trash, knowing that each
time, he would pay a price with mercilessly cynicism or the silent
treatment because she couldn't get him to feel and think the way
she felt and thought about me." Dave looked on, sensing the pain in
his wife's heart. "I don't