Any Resemblance to Actual Persons Read Online Free PDF Page B

continued, “what is your latest project? I’m very interested.”
    I explained that I was, at the moment, between projects, but that my latest novel, Rarer Monsters , was still being shopped around to publishers by my agent and longtime friend Oliver Kelly. It was a coming-of-age story about a boy who blames his father when his mother abandons the family, and finds himself drawn to the more overtly masculine father of his best friend. I hesitated, worried that my summary sounded trite, and admitted that I am not very good at giving concise pitches of my work, that authors never are since we understand our creations to be incredibly complicated and nuanced things, and that a summary is, by its very nature, reductive, though necessary in this marketplace.
    â€œI understand completely,” Rory said. “It sounds marvelously interesting. The title—from Macbeth , yes?”
    It was! As the hostess showed us to our table—a corner booth!—I explained the subtle network of Macbethian themes that interlace the novel, how the perspective of the boy is, in a way, an imagining of Fleance’s perspective, who of course witnessed the murder of his father, Banquo, but eventually became, as was prophesied, the ancestor of a line of great kings. In order to fully explain this, I had to go into some detail about the events in the novel that lead up to the scene when the boy witnesses what he perceives as his father’s metaphorical castration but which turns out to be a contemporary play on what literary critics refer to as “the bed trick.” By the time I got to the part about our young protagonist masturbating into a catcher’s mitt, our waitress was already at our table demanding orders.
    I hadn’t had time to consult the menu yet, so I asked to go last. The menu at Jerry’s Famous advertises an impressive seven hundred items, and I was fairly overwhelmed. This very American overabundance of choice often results, paradoxically, in a subversion of choice. While I was trying to think of a pithier package of that observation to deliver to Rory, the waitress looked at me, and I panicked and simply got what Rory had ordered, a Rueben and an iced tea.
    When the waitress left, I leaned over to Edie and said, “Robert Aldrich.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe autograph on the Baby Jane poster. It’s not Bette Davis or Joan Crawford. It’s Robert Aldrich.”
    â€œPaul,” she said in that doubting way of hers.
    â€œYou don’t believe me? Look.”
    â€œWe need to discuss something.” This was the exact thing our mother said to us before she (Mom) went to Africa. I felt a little offended by her (Edie) co-opting this phrase, along with our mother’s flat cadence, but realized that it could have been unintentional. I also realized—as I had not when I was a kid—that the inclusiveness of the first person plural subject, not to mention that verb, was a lie. We would not be discussing anything. She would be talking . But I played along. I listened. Besides, I knew from experience that if you don’t take Edie’s crises as seriously as she wants you to, she’ll only exaggerate them to absurd heights. So I listened.
    â€œI should say that when I came back last year,” she said, “I was a little out of sorts. I’d gotten into some trouble and needed a home base, needed to regroup. I won’t get into what sort of trouble, just say that it is irrelevant to everything that followed and that it’s all being sorted out. I want to say this up front to apologize for the way I simply arrived back in your life as I did. It was unannounced, unexpected, and I had no right to intrude like that. I say this because it’s important that you know I completely understand why you couldn’t make it to Paige’s funeral and why you’ve neglected my calls since then. Relationships cannot be repaired as easily as a phone can