Sex and Death in the American Novel Read Online Free PDF

exchanged looks. After a few moments my mother said, “I'm heading up to my room. Coming dear?” Her eyes burned; the last thing I wanted was time alone with her. Maybe Tristan would let me stay in his room.
    I stood and grabbed Tristan's hand. “We're getting in line,” I said. She shrugged a forced gesture that betrayed her resignation—this gave me a bit of hope and I softened my tone. “After all the buildup, I have to see how this turns out.”
    We got to the back of the line and Tristan pulled out both books he'd brought to have Jasper sign: Forests and Filial . As we inched forward I connected with those eyes again, dark now that I was closer, and rimmed with black lashes. Jasper's eyes moved from me to the person in front of me, maybe gauging how many were left before he could scoot out of there. I watched Tristan make notes on top of his notes, and rearrange his books, as if he were trying to figure out what to ask of the great man first, an autograph or to have questions answered.
    When we got closer, Tristan's posture changed. The smile left his face and his brow furrowed. Jasper was gathering his briefcase and had his jacket slung over his forearm. He spoke to a young woman in a tight blue dress. Her blonde hair was piled up on her head, and she wore chunky red bracelets and earrings to match. Her laugh at everything he said hung in the air, her perfume was nauseating, like the scent of honey, gardenia, and garbage disposal sludge. I made a face and bore my eyes into the back of her head, hoping to psychically move her along. Tristan was the last person in line, Jasper had to see that.
    Before I knew it, Jasper moved forward, gave us both a quick nod, looking away when I met his eyes, and when he looked up again, the blondereached out and stroked his arm. He fixed his eyes on the pile in my brother's hands and with a half-hearted wave he said, “Do you mind too much if I take a rain check? It has been a really long night. How about you find me at breakfast?”
    Before my brother could answer, or I could say anything, Jasper turned and held an arm in front of the woman, and they both set off together.
    “What the fuck?” I said loud enough to be heard, though neither Jasper nor the book groupie turned. Tristan stood there with a blank look on his face, watching his hero stroll away.
    He looked down to his notes. “Doesn't matter. I got good notes.”
    “Probably won't get it up,” I said, hoping to say something to make this better for him. I wanted him to be mad at this guy for being so rude.
    Tristan shrugged. “You know he never scored like that before he got famous. Did you see the rack on that wench?”
    We walked toward the elevators and I said to his back, “Just a big weenie as far as I can tell. Who wears their hair like that?” I wanted to tear the guy up, if only for my brother's benefit.
    “Imagine that now, all of a sudden, something that had been kept from you your whole life was now right there, in a tight dress, in that body, eager and ready. It would be impossible to turn down,” he said.
    “Tristan, fuck, man. Grow a set. Really?” I said, my voice rising. I was glad there was no one else on the elevator with us. “This is just like how you used to act around Dad, all humble and…not yourself…taking shit you shouldn't just to make them like you…”
    “What am I supposed to do? Chase after him?”
    He was talking about Jasper, I thought, but the same could have been said about our father when he was alive.
    “You know, I was never going to tell you this, but I wrote Dad a long letter after he missed your graduation. I told him how totally lame that was, what a horrible excuse for a father he was.”
    His shoulders slumped. “Why did you do that?”
    “I made time to see you walk, collect your degree, so did Mom. She had to rearrange lots of stuff in her schedule, and she was glad to do it. Dad gave the lame fucking excuse that he had to work. Work, something he could