The Sun in Your Eyes Read Online Free PDF Page A

his dishes before getting in the shower.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Luxelovah, Massachusetts: I heart Jastine! I haaaaated Jason when he was with Lillian. They were the most boring couple ever (lol!). Justine brings out his fun, verbal side. But don’t tell me Justine is carrying Count Andre’s baby.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Debbysmom, Michigan: Why did they kill off Liza if there just gonna bring her back??!! I hurt she lost weight but shes not even pretty. She looks like a wrinkled raisin!
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  CaseyP, Florida: If I wanted left-wing politics, I’d watch network news. Enough with the Afghanistan veteran story line. NOT. BUYING. IT. Writers, you are running the show into the ground. Hel-LO? You are driving away your fan base!!
    I had seen CaseyP before, though I hadn’t noticed until now that she (he?) had a black-and-white image of Ayn Rand for an online icon. Debbysmom had a kitten, Luxelovah a hot-pink handbag. CaseyP vented with a prune-consuming regularity and I had tried to stop taking the remarks personally because it only led to a reflexive antipathy ( Who takes the time to write these things? ) that turned in on itself ( Who takes the time to read these things? ). The dignified reaction was to see this as proof that viewers still cared enough about To Have and to Hold to get worked up and post in forums. Proof that we still had viewers, despite the constant, dispiriting reports of dwindling ratings. To Have and to Hold (THATH to its devoted audience) belonged to a dying breed: daytime, English-language soap operas. And its few surviving New York kin had decamped to Los Angeles to cut costs.
    It was time to stop procrastinating and head to my boss’s office to discuss Samantha Trudeau, who had come to Mill River, a fictional town located somewhere between Manhattan and Philadelphia, as a conniving call girl and blackmailed her way to becoming a cosmetics executive at Blythe Beauty. We were in the process of revealing that she was the long-lost daughter of district attorney Saul Rappaport.The news would not only rock the town, it would start Samantha on a path of transformation, which would involve her discovering her Jewish heritage.
    â€œIf you are now or have ever been a whore, do you have to go through a special cleansing ritual?” Frank asked as I came in and took the chrome-and-leather chair facing his desk.
    â€œI’ll have to check my handbook and get back to you.”
    â€œI didn’t know they still made handbooks. That’s why I count on you, young person. You keep me up to date.”
    Frank Sussman: mid-fifties, tailored khakis, V-neck sweaters, and the driest delivery of anyone I have ever known. His first day, he’d gathered us around and said, without breaking stride: “I’m not into posturing, but we do need to pump some virility into the shriveled men of Mill River. I think the last time Rick Howard’s dick saw the light of day, or even the crepuscular half-light, was 1985. I know we love us some divas around here but—” He sighed then plaintively sang the words “vagina dentata” to the tune of “Hakuna Matata.”
    â€œSpecial cleansing ritual. You mean like a mikvah?”
    â€œYes. Do we need to go there?” Frank shifted his chin in rumination. “How about we wait a few months, back-burner it for the summer, then have her atone on Yom Kippur and apologize to all the people she’s hurt clawing her way to the top. We could do for Yom Kippur what we do for Christmas.” Christmas on the soaps was an expertly sentimentalized snowy time of hearth and home. Frank stopped himself. “On second thought, no. We’d have to keep this somber. Have Samantha really struggle with who she is. For a day or two.”
    â€œWhat if we gave her a friend? A woman she could talk to, confide in?”
    â€œHumanize her in a