{"id":769,"date":"2024-02-04T19:21:40","date_gmt":"2024-02-05T01:21:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rainmountainpress.com\/wordpress\/?post_type=product&#038;p=769"},"modified":"2025-09-05T12:57:48","modified_gmt":"2025-09-05T17:57:48","slug":"where-the-survivors-are-buried","status":"publish","type":"product","link":"https:\/\/rainmountainpress.com\/wordpress\/product\/where-the-survivors-are-buried","title":{"rendered":"Where the Survivors are Buried"},"content":{"rendered":"<h3>by\u00a0Nava Renek<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<style>\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t#tab_container_768 {\r\n\toverflow:hidden;\r\n\tdisplay:block;\r\n\twidth:100%;\r\n\tborder:0px solid #ddd;\r\n\tmargin-bottom:30px;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_768 .tab-content{\r\n\tpadding:20px;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #e6e2cc !important;\r\n\tmargin-top: 0px;\r\n\tbackground-color:#fffbe5 !important;\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tfont-size:16px !important;\r\n\tfont-family: Open Sans !important;\r\n\t\r\n\t\tborder: 1px solid #e6e2cc !important;\r\n\t}\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs {\r\n    border-bottom: 0px solid #ddd;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a, #tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a:hover, #tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a:focus {\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tcursor: default;\r\n\tbackground-color: #fffbe5 !important;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #e6e2cc !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a {\r\n    margin-right: 0px !important; \r\n    line-height: 1.42857143 !important;\r\n    border: 1px solid #ece8d2 !important;\r\n    border-radius: 0px 0px 0 0 !important; \r\n\tbackground-color: #fffbe5 !important;\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tpadding: 15px 18px 15px 18px !important;\r\n\ttext-decoration: none !important;\r\n\tfont-size: 14px !important;\r\n\ttext-align:center !important;\r\n\tfont-family: Open Sans !important;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:focus {\r\noutline: 0px !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:before {\r\n\tdisplay:none !important;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:after {\r\n\tdisplay:none !important ;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li{\r\npadding:0px !important ;\r\nmargin:0px;\r\n}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:hover , #tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:focus {\r\n    color: #000000 !important;\r\n    background-color: #fffbe5 !important;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #ece8d2 !important;\r\n\t\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a .fa{\r\n\r\nmargin-right:5px !important;\r\n\r\nmargin-left:5px !important;\r\n\r\n\r\n}\r\n\r\n\t\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs a{\r\n\t\t\tbackground-image: none;\r\n\t\t\tbackground-position: 0 0;\r\n\t\t\tbackground-repeat: repeat-x;\r\n\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\r\n\r\n#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n    float: left;\r\n    margin-bottom: -1px !important;\r\n\tmargin-right:0px !important; \r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n#tab_container_768 .tab-content{\r\noverflow:hidden !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n@media (min-width: 769px) {\r\n\r\n\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li{\r\n\t\tfloat:left !important ;\r\n\t\t\t\tmargin-right:-1px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs{\r\n\t\tfloat:none !important;\r\n\t\tmargin:0px !important;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav{\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n@media (max-width: 768px) {\r\n\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav{\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n\t.wpsm_nav-tabs li:before{\r\n\t\tdisplay:none !important;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n\t@media (max-width: 768px) {\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t.wpsm_nav-tabs{\r\n\t\t\tmargin-left:0px !important;\r\n\t\t\tmargin-right:0px !important; \r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\t#tab_container_768 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li{\r\n\t\t\tfloat:none !important;\r\n\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t}\t\t\t\t<\/style>\r\n\t\t\t\t<div id=\"tab_container_768\" >\r\n\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t<ul class=\"wpsm_nav wpsm_nav-tabs\" role=\"tablist\" id=\"myTab_768\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  class=\"active\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_768_1\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_768_1\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>Overview<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_768_2\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_768_2\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>Excerpt<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/ul>\r\n\r\n\t\t\t\t\t  <!-- Tab panes -->\r\n\t\t\t\t\t  <div class=\"tab-content\" id=\"tab-content_768\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane  in active \" id=\"tabs_desc_768_1\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p style=\"text-align: left\"><em>Where The Survivors Are Buried<\/em> contains two novellas that explore the eternal struggles couples endure to capture and hold onto illusive everlasting love.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: left\"><em>Walking East<\/em>, set in post-9\/11 Brownstone Brooklyn, follows the life of Miriam Cornish (Meem), a 42 year-old married mother and former music critic who finds herself at a crossroads in life where she must choose between satisfying her own immediate sexual and emotional desires by joining forces with a charismatic entertainment editor who promises passion, excitement, and the possibility of reigniting her flagging writing career, or forgoing personal and immediate satisfaction to maintain the stability of the family she\u2019s spent the last ten years creating and nurturing.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: left\">In <em>Fly Away Home<\/em>, world weary couples therapist, Elliot Rapp, tries to escape his awareness of the emptiness he sees at the heart of many things by self-medicating, using alcohol, pharmaceuticals, and casual sex, while carrying on his role as attentive listener, devoted husband, and dutiful father of two young daughters. Elliot observes: \u201chuman beings use each other like tools: a fulcrum, hammer, screwdriver, or wedge, something that provides the manner from which one can extract oneself from an unpleasant situation.\u201d Set on the Upper West Side and the Jersey Shore, this novel details the collateral damage brought on by infidelity and divorce, as each member of the family struggles through the dissolution and slowly finds resolution in the act of moving on.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: left\">\"Nava Renek embraces life, both literally and figuratively. In clear, evocative prose, Renek trains her gaze on the everyday demands and conflicts as well as on the joys of intimacy of married life, as couples try to reconcile the clash of domestic duties with their personal ambitions and aspirations.\"<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: right\">\u2014Tsipi Keller<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: left\">\"Populated by middle aged characters who have \u201ca difficult time assessing what [is] true or false, happy or sad, real or imagined, even in their own lives,\u201d(146) <em>Where the Survivors are Buried<\/em> overlays the familiar coming of age story with 40 years of living in NYC, and has come up with a sturm und drang more poignant than one about adolescence could ever be. I was really affected by \u201cWalking East.\u201d I love that protagonist\u2014 the punk rock mother. I mean, what does happen to punk rock women when we reach middle age? When we discover we\u2019ve bought into the idea of a normal life but there is really nothing normal about this life or any other? When we realize we\u2019ve put down the bass guitar\/stopped singing\/stopped being cool? Can we get it back or is it like our once-flat abdomens?\"<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: right\">\u2014Robin Martin<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: left\">\"Exposing a world where couples are like frayed pieces of jigsaw puzzles that will never fit together again and the sexes fight eternal battles between freedom and captivity, <em>Where the Survivors Are Buried<\/em> contains two short novels, both darkly funny, deeply poignant, and filled with complex and engaging characters with the contemporary post-feminist bent of Mary Gaitskill and the carefully detailed social realism of Doris Lessing.\"<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: right\">\u2014Aimee Parkison,\u00a0<em>Refrigerated Music for a Gleaming Woman<\/em><\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: left\">\"Nava Renek is a knowing chronicler of the confusions into which love\u2019s contradictory needs deliver women and men \u2013 and bury them. But while these two novellas of difficult marriages show us the \u201cneurotic toxicity\u2026 only New Yorkers can emit,\u201d Renek\u2019s feeling for her characters also delineates how humans are built to survive, to rock all night long, finding the stories that sustain them. This is a wry and compassionate writer, a novelist for adults.\"<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: right\">\u2014Ted Pelton, author of\u00a0<em>Bartleby, the Sportscaster<\/em><\/p>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: left\"><strong><img fetchpriority=\"high\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-853\" src=\"https:\/\/rainmountainpress.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/08\/Nava-Renek-headshot.jpg\" alt=\"Nava Renek\" width=\"200\" height=\"250\" \/>Nava Renek<\/strong> is a writer, editor, and educator. \u00a0She has published two novels,\u00a0<em>Spiritland<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0<em>No Perfect Words,<\/em>\u00a0a collection of short stories,\u00a0<em>Mating in Captivity\u00a0<\/em>and a children\u2019s picture book<em>, Venice is for Cats<\/em>. \u00a0She also conceived of and edited\u00a0<em>Wreckage of Reason: \u00a0Anthology of XXperimental Prose by Contemporary Women Writers<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0<em>Wreckage of Reason 2: Back To The Drawing Board<\/em>. She lives in Brooklyn.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane \" id=\"tabs_desc_768_2\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: center\"><strong>Chapter 1<\/strong><\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\"><em>Marriage: Two cups desire mixed with one cup constancy, a tablespoon of indifference, half a cup of melted dreams, a pinch of humor, add friends and children to taste.\u00a0 Blend well and let sit.\u00a0 Still married?\u00a0 Mix ingredients and repeat again.<\/em><\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">When Meem thought about sex with him, she remembered the cream colored Acura--a rental car, and the Sunset Arms, the cheap hotel where she imagined a succession of B-movie stars had taken their own lives, and on occasion, she remembered doing it in her own Honda Accord, the one she and her husband had taken out a loan to pay for, all the while hissing like angry snakes at each other over her indiscretions.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">It was in these noncommittal spaces, seemingly so transitory and brief, that she and Jeff had feasted on each other\u2019s bodies (always a quick meal), while whispering painful admonishments, wishing to wipe away any thoughts of the future before they even occurred. After all, they\u2019d come together under another pretense\u2013certainly not to end up in each other\u2019s arms--and as always in everything they did, the clock was ticking, and didn\u2019t Meem know it!<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">When Meem thought back to the moment she first met him, almost two years before, when her marriage was still intact, her family humming along in a strangely reassuring manner, she pictured Jeff sitting on the edge of his desk, left leg swinging back and forth like a pendulum already ticking off the seconds, him eyeing her in a curious yet distant sort of way, arms folded across his chest as if protecting himself from some unwanted intrusion.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Months later, he confided to her that after she\u2019d left his office that day, he had a hard on.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">She never told him this, but as his hard on must have been edging towards the inseam of his jeans, she was thinking:\u00a0<em>thank-God, for once, I am so totally un-attracted to a man\u2014this man who could sit so casually in his office, drinking from a pint of Jack Daniels and not even offer me some.<\/em><\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Perhaps it was his five o\u2019clock shadow that hung like a veil between his sharp cheek bones to his jutting chin, or the way his jeans fit loosely off his hips like the pants worn by men who stand outside subway stations begging quarters from blurry-eyed passengers? Or it could\u2019ve been the white athletic socks that covered his otherwise shoeless feet and the fact that white athletic socks were (at least to her) a turn-off. But most of all, she suspected it was the way he didn\u2019t actually speak to her, but to some larger audience (the whole world perhaps?) as she listened to him rant on about music, politics, and obscure artistic movements, all the while throwing back shot after shot of whiskey, until she felt so exhausted she could barely stand and wanted desperately to sit on the chair nearby, but for some neurotic reason was politely waiting for him to offer her a seat and a shot from that goddamn bottle of booze.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">When her husband asked her how she could ever have fucked up\u00a0 their family so badly, she thought of Jeff\u2019s eyes and the deep layers of sadness she imagined hidden behind them, the personal sorrow she knew she could never make right, but a pain that seemed so familiar she wanted to squelch it with the first thing on hand--her body, of course. But she kept those feelings to herself as Jeff had explained the responsibilities of the job. Afterwards, she thanked him and walked out the door, carrying with her a sense of undefined yearning that would stay with her long after she felt comfortable taking liberties with him lying naked on a hotel bed or sipping from a bottle of Vinho Verde.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">How was she to know that soon his office would become their arena for painfully slow foreplay: discussions of bands and music, rehashing personal traumas that they folded lightly into the batter of their pasts?\u00a0 And, as she thought of him sitting there so casually against the back drop of Fourteenth Street with its crumbling pre-war buildings, water towers, and soot-streaked skies, she wondered when her change of heart had occurred? Was it just after her initial proclamation while descending in the freight elevator that she found him so utterly unappealing, so obviously self-centered, maybe even egomaniacal, never once offering her a seat across from his desk or a hit from that bottle of Jack that stood sentry over the articles and advertisements he\u2019d been marking up for typos and grammatical errors?<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Yet, they\u2019d had a congenial conversation about his business and hers as she glanced around\u00a0 room lined with posters of 1970's punk bands: The Ramones, Dead Kennedys, MC5, album covers for The Stooges, Blondie, and Television, stacks of CDs, magazines, and other music paraphernalia, long enough to spot a copy of\u00a0<em>The Village Voice<\/em>\u00a0opened to the \u201cClassifieds,\u201d specifically: \u201cApts\/Manhattan\u201d with cloudlike circles traced around various listings in his multipurpose red pen. He and his wife were moving, he\u2019d explained. His wife needed more space to expand her catering business.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Meem had nodded sympathetically. It\u2019d been a long time since she\u2019d referred to that paper for apartments or jobs, although she couldn\u2019t deny never having done so. It\u2019d just been a while, like say a decade or two, since she\u2019d been forced to pack up her belongings and seek refuge wherever she could afford it.\u00a0 In other words, his lifestyle seemed vaguely familiar, one she might have led some time ago, but somehow seemed to have wormed her way out of by clutching onto the first safety device available--her husband; then loving and caring for him in return for what she considered his dramatic rescue.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">When Meem thought about sex with Jeff, she believed it was his brain she wanted to fuck: penetrate his gray matter for past history, stories, lives. On the way, she\u2019d allow him to cup her belly (which was softer than it should be, or softer than it was when she was nineteen or twenty) and ask: \u201cwhat\u2019s this?\u201d as if none of his other lovers had ever had the pleasure of a good meal, skipped a decade of going to the gym, or given birth.\u00a0 At 42, there was so much history to be found in a stomach, and hers was no exception. If he\u2019d ever taken the time to look any closer, he might\u2019ve seen the scar of her emergency caesarian, the mark that would always be there, just under her panty line\u2013a constant reminder that she was in no way perfect.<\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cFor why?\u201d The question kept coming to her; the same question her seven year old son, Oscar, asked whenever he didn\u2019t understand something.\u00a0 <em>For why<\/em>\u00a0did everything that had once meant so much, mean nothing anymore?<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">On the way home, she couldn\u2019t help peering into the different parlor floors of the brownstones along the way. With their cut glass chandeliers, walls line with bookshelves and abstract paintings, the stone and mortar structures seemed like little oases. She knew Oscar would be in their apartment, probably watching TV, or chatting with his dad about rodents or different modes of transportation while Grant prepared dinner. There\u2019d been a time before she\u2019d been married when she hardly ate at all, or didn\u2019t eat regularly, and certainly didn\u2019t eat at the same time every day. Now, they were so punctual. Almost regimental. Oscar anticipated his meals on schedule. In exchange, they expected Oscar to go to bed on time, and usually he obliged.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhat weighs more, a pound of chicken or a pound of meat?\u201d Grant asked, as she opened the door and found them exactly where she expected, seated at the kitchen table, Oscar stabbing a fork into a piece of barbequed chicken and sucking the sauce off with his lips.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cThat\u2019s easy,\u201d Oscar answered. \u201cThey both weigh the same.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHow about this one. What was the color of Napoleon\u2019s white horse?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhite!\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cAnd if an airplane crashed on the border of Canada and the United States, where would the survivors be buried?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cDuh! You\u2019ve asked me that a thousand times. Survivors don\u2019t get buried.\u201d Oscar laughed, and then went back to licking the barbecue sauce off another piece of chicken.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI\u2019m going to run his bath,\u201d Meem announced, pleased that both father and son were engaged in conversation, even if they seemed to be talking nonsense.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhat do you like more: a rat or a pigeon?\u201d Oscar asked as he followed her down the hall and began to undress for his bath.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cNeither.\u201d Meem answered, taking a seat on the side of the tub.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cPigeons are good because they can fly wherever they want, but rats are soooo cute.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI\u2019ve never heard anyone call a rat \u2018cute.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cBut they\u00a0<em>are<\/em>.\u00a0 I love rats, and squirrels, and chipmunks, and hamsters.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cSo, you\u2019re an animal lover.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cNo. I\u2019m a rodent lover. Phyllum Rodentia.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIt\u2019s a good thing you live in the city. Most kids in the country don\u2019t get to see too many rats.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhat happened to all the animals that lived near the World Trade Center, mom?\u00a0 On the news they said there was a dog in Battery Park City. Everyone knew him because he begged food from all the restaurants and the construction workers fed him scraps. After September 11th, they forgot about him, but then one day a few weeks later someone saw him running around a mall on Staten Island. How do you think he got there.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIt\u2019s almost time for bed.\u201d Meem reached for a towel and held it open for him.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cNo, mom. How do you think he got there? Maybe he took the Belt Parkway and crossed over the Verrazano?\u00a0 He could have swum, but\u2026\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cDo you want me to read you a story?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cMaybe he took the ferry or was transported by one of the garbage trucks loaded up with all that World Trade Center junk.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cOscar, it\u2019s almost time for bed.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIf there was a disaster, what would be the fastest way to get out of the city: car or ferry?\u00a0 I think ferry because you wouldn\u2019t have to worry about the bridges being blown up.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cStop talking so you can get into your pajamas.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhat do you think the name of the dog was?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d Meem sighed.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHomer.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cYou mean like the Greek poet?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cNo. Like Homer Simpson.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Being born wasn\u2019t the hard part.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIt didn\u2019t hurt a bit,\u201d Meem\u2019s mother told her, which\u00a0 made some sense, since to her mother who died when Meem was 16, pain had become both ever-present and totally unrecognizable. Now, in middle age, Meem felt those sharp contractions beginning to push her out of the birth canal into the world of sensation, noise, and light, followed by the bloody afterbirth, and the adult Meem dangling loosely by her own umbilical cord, still tethered to her former self, but flailing to exist anew.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Seven years earlier, Oscar had been born under duress beneath operating room lamps. No one had really warned Meem about the hours of labor, the doctors and nurses in their surgical masks poking and prodding as if she were a sputtering roast they needed to determine was\u00a0<em>done.<\/em>\u00a0 With the laboring woman in the next room hollering: \u201cmotherfucker, get this damn thing outta me,\u201d it was no wonder Meem\u2019s body had closed up, her cervix refusing to fully dilate, then finally shutting down completely like the lowering of an F-stop.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">When she\u2019d first started experiencing contractions, she received little help from the midwife who complained about the slow progress of her labor and how late it was going to make the midwife for her own daughter\u2019s Girl Scout meeting. Then Meem, ever wanting to please even when shot up with Pitocin, blamed herself for keeping the woman from her coven of Scotch clad girls, planning territory and routes, hawking their boxes of Thin Mints and Do Si Do\u2019s.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Why couldn\u2019t she have had her baby on time, in the most classic of ways, pushing him out\u00a0 while angels played on high and golden rays kissed the newborn\u2019s dewy hair?\u00a0 Instead, she never knew she had him until four hours later when a bundle of cloth blankets and flesh was placed in her arms. By then, the infant\u2019s face had been wiped clean of sinew, his head covered in the tiniest of cotton caps, little hands and toes swaddled in straight jacket rigging, button nose poking out, becoming familiar with air.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Note to new mom: Take that infant into your arms. Wrap him in swathes of fabric. Kiss his silky cheeks. Press him to your swelling breasts.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">For two weeks Oscar stayed asleep, except to nurse. Then, when he finally woke up, he opened his mouth, filled his lungs with air and released a long drawn out yawl, letting the world have it. These days, Meem thought she knew what that scream felt like. It sat deep inside her like the sharp edges of a four cornered box, pressing tightly against her rib cage and malleable organs.<\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Inside Calcutta II, strings of fairy lights dripped like hanging vines against crimson wallpaper. Calcutta I was just around the corner, and the real Calcutta was six thousand miles away. Several years earlier, Grant had worked on a dam project in India and had never stopped talking about the vivid contrasts he\u2019d found there: the teeming city streets vs. the tranquil country roads; the colorful intensity of Old Delhi\u2019s Main Bazaar vs. the human waste and squalor down the back alleys nearby, the poverty vs. opulence, spicy curry vs. cool mango lassi, air-con vs. non air con, veg vs. non-veg.\u00a0 After a month of being in that strange land, he\u2019d seemed relieved when he finally returned home.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cDid Oscar ask how hurricanes get their names?\u201d Meem asked while taking in the refracting colors of the kaleidoscopic lights dangling from the walls. \u201cHe thinks the names are based on some kind of anthropomorphic logic, like hurricanes have distinct personalities.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cJust tell him the truth. Meteorologists assign hurricanes their names.\u201d Grant glanced around for the waiter to come open their bottle of beer.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cBut the\u00a0<em>names<\/em>. Where do they come from?\u00a0 Is there some standard list, or does someone\u2019s mother have to die or girlfriend leave him? And why are the names always so exotic, like Hurricane Ingrid, Carmen, Isobel?\u00a0 I\u2019ve never heard of Hurricane Lisa or Sue.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cThere was Hurricane Bob.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cMaybe it\u2019s the opposite for men\u2019s names: only ordinary white men\u2019s names. No Hurricane Jermaine or Leroy.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhat about Hurricane Aretha or Tanesha or Daquan?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cListen to this: Hurricane Ravi. Hurricane Sanjay. They should give those names to hurricanes in India,\u201d Meem giggled, enjoying being out of the house, laughing with her husband, but then Grant\u2019s persistent logic brought her back to Earth.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIndia doesn\u2019t have hurricanes. They have monsoons and tsunamis. Naming hurricanes is ridiculous anyway. Why would anyone give a storm a name?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cTo connect us to more powerful events. Deep down, we don\u2019t want to know that we can\u2019t control nature.\u00a0 Living in the city, we never have to experience actual\u00a0<em>weather<\/em>. All we really see is what\u2019s on a map on TV. Sometimes it\u2019s raining or sunny, hot or cold, but what difference does that make if we\u2019re walking from the subway to the office and home again?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cAre you singing the praises of nature?\u201d Grant teased.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI\u2019m just saying that most people are out of touch with the weather. It\u2019s either: \u2018going to be a great day, Willard\u2019 or \u2018Willard, when will the rain ever end?\u2019\u00a0 Do you think animals complain each time the temperature changes?\u201d Then she stopped and wound her fingers between the water glasses and plates of mixed appetizers, wanting to hold his hand. \u201cI love you,\u201d she murmured, but watched disappointedly as he withdrew and turned his gaze down to the threadbare carpet.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI just don\u2019t know what\u2019s happening to us.\u201d He finally confessed.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c<em>Life\u00a0<\/em>is what\u2019s happening,\u201d she replied, thinking that until that moment, she\u2019d always considered him youthful, handsome, but recently she\u2019d begun to notice a few lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. \u201cI need to go home and lie down,\u201d she sighed, feeling all the chicken korma and alou shag sloshing around inside her.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIt\u2019s not even nine o\u2019clock.\u201d He reminded her. \u201cI remember when we would drink all night and didn\u2019t go home until four in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cThat must\u2019ve been someone else,\u201d she laughed. \u201cNow we\u2019ve got that subway ride, and I don\u2019t want to be sick on the train. Besides, I can\u2019t stay out like I used to. I should be able to tell you I\u2019m tired without feeling like I\u2019m disappointing you. Now I\u2019m tired, and like a fucking pig, I\u2019ve eaten too much, and I just want to go home. Isn\u2019t that okay?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">She looked up at the ceiling lights and let the colors linger behind her eye lids for a while. \u201cI think I found someone for you.\u201d Grant offered. \u201cHe\u2019s a therapist.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cNothing\u2019s wrong. I don\u2019t need a doctor.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHonestly, I don\u2019t know how much longer I...\u201d\u00a0 But he stopped himself before he said anything more.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIf you can\u2019t take it,\u201d Meem challenged, half wanting him to finish the sentence for her. How many times had she wished he\u2019d just tell her their relationship was over, but she knew he wasn\u2019t going to give up so easily.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI love you. We have a family. I want us to be together, but I have to know that\u2019s what you want\u00a0 too.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">She knew exactly what he was talking about. Those empty hours she spent in bed listening to the sounds of the different vehicles passing below their window. While under the covers, she\u2019d gotten to know her block\u2019s daytime routine: the shuffling footsteps as the neighbor\u2019s kids got ready for school, the low decibel rumble of the UPS truck idling across the way, the clanking of empty bottles as collectors bumped their shopping carts down the cracked sidewalks, halting every few yards to rummage through someone else\u2019s trash. Sometimes while she was lying there, she\u2019d feel Grant sidle up to her and wrap his arms around her as if he believed that if he just kept holding her tight, she wouldn\u2019t want to get away, but even in all her confusion, she knew she was AWOL: her body present; her mind far away.<\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Out on the street, she took his arm, hoping to feel something--anything that would bring them back to the place they were when they\u2019d first met and there was no question that they loved each other completely and would do anything just to be near each other.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cPlease don\u2019t hold a grudge because I ate too much, and now like a fat pig, I want to go home.\u201d She begged.\u00a0 \u201cThat should be the beauty of our relationship. I should be able to tell you that I\u2019m tired, or sick, or ecstatically happy, without worrying about how you\u2019ll respond.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhen was the last time you were\u00a0<em>ecstatically happy<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIt\u2019s been hard. I admit, I\u2019ve been incredibly sad lately, but we can tell each other that too, can\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Suddenly, Grant pulled her into a doorway and pressed himself against her. \u201cWhen was the last time you made love standing up?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cJesus,\u201d Meem groaned. \u201cWe\u2019re in the middle of New York City.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cThat never stopped us before.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHow about we wait until we get home?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cYou\u2019ll be too tired.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">She let him kiss her for a while, trying to find the passion in the warmth of his tongue as it rummaged in her mouth, but easily became distracted by the sounds of taxis barreling down the avenue.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Soon enough, he realized she wasn\u2019t into it and stopped; then wordlessly, they continued towards the subway on their way home.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">In Brooklyn, their fifteen-year-old babysitter was asleep on the sofa, headphones covering her ears, a reality show muted on TV, and a fat chemistry text book lying across her chest. \u201cTalk about sensory overload,\u201d Meem whispered, remembering her own babysitting days: the endless hours waiting for the parents to return, sampling everything in the cupboards from Cherry flavored Jell-O to Cointreau and stale cigarettes. Then, when the couple finally arrived with their crooked smiles and staggering gaits, she was no longer able to see them as ordinary moms and dads, because between the time they walked out the door and when they returned four hours later, something secret, transformative seemed to have happened. Until she had a family of her own, she never knew what troubles could lurk in everyone\u2019s closet like water damage or dry rot behind the pressed suits and silk dresses.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cGina,\u201d Meem whispered, tapping lightly on the girl\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Gina was wearing a tight V-neck T-shirt and fitted jeans\u2013not baggy Levis like Meem\u2019s generation had worn\u2013but jeans that left the girl\u2019s midriff exposed, allowing Meem to peek at her washboard abs and budding breasts. Did the babysitter even realize how coveted her physique would be? Boys would surround her. Grown men would ogle her. Boyfriends would be entranced by her, but eventually her slender hips would widen, her thighs thicken, her breasts conform to the laws of gravity, and she\u2019d long to be back in her beautiful body that she\u2019d taken for granted way back then.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cOh hi.\u201d Gina jumped up, seeming to want to appear as if she hadn\u2019t been asleep.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Meem pushed some bills into the girl\u2019s hand and told her that Grant was waiting to walk her home. Thirty dollars for four hours of adult time with her husband was an investment all couples needed, a sort of topping off of the tank in anticipation of more chaotic times to come, and if Meem had been in a better frame of mind, she might\u2019ve been able to enjoy the evening, but even after their night out, she still felt completely unable to muster the kind of excitement Grant was asking for. By the time he returned home, she knew she\u2019d be asleep, their futile discussion having come to another inconclusive end. She didn\u2019t know how many more talks like that they could have. She didn\u2019t want to go to any doctor or therapist because a doctor meant explaining, and explaining meant exploring, and exploring would only lead somewhere she didn\u2019t want to go.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHow was he?\u201d Meem asked, suddenly aware that Gina was still standing in front of her expecting her to want a status report on her son.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHe named all the herbivore dinosaurs from the Mesozoic era. I don\u2019t know where he gets all that information. I sure didn\u2019t know that stuff when I was his age.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Meem smiled proudly. The mere thought of Oscar never failed to bring her out of her funk. Then Grant appeared, ready to take Gina home, and for a brief moment, Meem imagined the two of them as lovers. What was to stop a man of Grant\u2019s age from coveting such a precious creature? Talk about May-December romances. Statistics practically guaranteed that by the time a woman reached fifty, her husband would have had at least one affair with a woman half his age. But not Grant. Not him. Grant was still fiercely hanging on, determined to make their family work. Had knowing he was so committed allowed her to stray?<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Maybe she\u2019d gotten Gina all wrong?\u00a0 Perhaps she was already screwing one of the other dads on the block? The trick would be simple: to appear innocent and na\u00efve but carry on like a lap dancer, working these poor middle aged shlubs in their susceptible states of decline into a sexual frenzy. But no, Gina seemed to be in full possession of her innocence, genuinely still a child, at least for a little while longer.<\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cName two mammals that also lay eggs,\u201d Oscar quizzed at 6:00 the next morning, while standing in the middle of their bedroom dressed in red and blue Spider Man pajamas. Over the last few weeks, they\u2019d been trying to discourage him from jumping onto their bed the moment he woke up, and although he tried to contain himself, it was hard for him to change a habit they\u2019d let him hold onto for so long.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">The sky beyond their windows was dark, and Meem pulled the covers over her head, having already assessed that this was a scientific question\u2013definitely not her domain\u2013and waited for Grant to rouse himself and respond.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cName two mammals that also lay eggs,\u201d Oscar repeated, his tone becoming more insistent.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cNot now, Oscar.\u201d Grant groaned. \u201cWhat time is it?\u00a0 Go back to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cBut I want to talk about mammals that lay eggs!\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cStop it.\u201d Grant pulled himself up to a sitting position. \u201cYou need to go into your room and take care of yourself. We haven\u2019t finished sleeping yet.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cPlatypus and Echidna. But they live in Australia. Do you think there were other mammals like them in prehistoric times?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cGrant, do something.\u201d Meem whimpered.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cOscar, go to your room. We\u2019ll talk about it when we wake up.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Meem heard a long exhale, then the soft padding of Oscar\u2019s footsteps as he moved down the hall.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHe gets enough attention, don\u2019t you think?\u201d She asked.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cFuck. I\u2019m awake now.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cDon\u2019t you want to sleep some more?\u201d Meem wrapped her arm around his waist, thinking she might be able to make up for her lack of enthusiasm the night before.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cJesus, Meem. Someone has to work. Doesn\u2019t Oscar have school today, or is it another one of those goddamn holidays?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Oscar\u2019s footsteps got closer as he entered their room again. \u201cSee, you\u2019re awake. I didn\u2019t wake you, but now that you\u2019re up, we can talk, right?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI\u2019m not talking about egg laying mammals at 6:15 in the morning.\u201d Meem snapped.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Oscar was already nestled between them, his thin legs intertwined through hers.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHow about making us some coffee?\u201d She nudged Grant who was already putting on a T-shirt as he got out of bed.<\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Futility: Watch a fledgling fly into glass. Take two tablets and cry in the morning. Fall in love with someone who can\u2019t love you.<\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Dr. Lauder nestled his oval body into a worn armchair while fingering one of the little soap stone statues of Shiva or Vishnu or another one of the Hindu gods. Meem didn\u2019t tell him that similar statues sat all over her own apartment\u2013distant deities Grant collected, but that they only really had an aesthetic connection to. As far as religion went, she and Grant didn\u2019t pray to any higher beings or covet too many bourgeois totems.\u00a0 In fact, she told the doctor, they\u2019d been getting along fairly well\u2026until recently.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">At her initial visit two weeks before, she\u2019d taken a seat on a sofa\u2013a folded up futon, really--which faced a large canvas filled with what looked like giant space age nodules. The painting seemed interesting an abstract kind of way. Perhaps, she thought, each bubble was meant to be a Rorschach that revealed a tiny microcosmic world filled with symbols pointing to specific neurosis and psychopathology? But as the weeks went by, the work slowly lost its intrigue until it became merely wallpaper, rather than something that possessed any deeper meaning.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">When she arrived that first day, there\u2019d been no sign that read: \u201cMentally Disturbed Patients: Do Not Sit Here!\u201d so she didn\u2019t see any reason why she should have chosen the\u00a0<em>other<\/em>\u00a0sofa, which she was soon to learn was the sofa that the doctor considered the more preferable place to sit. In fact, the futon looked so familiar, just like the one she and Grant had set up in their living room. So, from her point of view, there was no reason for the shrink, therapist, mentor, guru, quack\u2014whoever he was, and who didn\u2019t know a thing about her--to call her out for her poor choice of seating just to prove his psychoanalytic chops. And maybe now he\u2019d say that her resentment and counter analysis of his initial interpretation was some sort of defense mechanism preventing her from thoroughly examining her own life, but when he chastised her for choosing that piece of furniture that he\u2019d deemed so uncomfortable, then proceeded to diagnose her as being mildly depressed, she wasn\u2019t really in any position to refute him. But, at the very next session, she smiled to herself as she sunk her derriere into the supposedly more luxurious sofa just to avoid any further therapeutic condemnation, while patient and doctor rooted around for reasons that explained her recent unhappiness.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Lauder had alternating opinions. As far as he was concerned\u2026in the grand scheme of things\u2026 people were constantly falling in and out of love, being unfaithful, and making bad decisions. But from a humanistic standpoint, as in how one treats another living person, he suspected she could be a \u201cmonster.\u201d Only a \u201cmonster\u201d could directly disregard her partner\u2019s feelings to carry out actions that would solely benefit herself. Only a\u00a0<em>monster<\/em>\u00a0would lie and cheat and concoct stories to achieve her own ends, jeopardize the well-being of the family and disregard social norms to create a seismic shift that could shatter all aspects of life as she knew it.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">At the conclusion of their forty-five minutes, there were tears, and then Meem\u2019s subsequent humiliation for having used up the cache of tissues that had been placed on the tchotchke table in between the saucer of shiny stones and the crop of miniature brass Buddhas. It was at this point that she\u2019d actually thank the doctor for making her feel so bad and reminding her how pitiful she was for first allowing herself to fall in love with another man\u2013not her husband\u2013then have to seek help from a stranger to straighten herself out.<\/p>\r\n\u00a0\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHow are you?\u201d Lauder intoned, his usual question, as he scanned her face for possible clues.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d came her natural response, until she remembered why she was there: her inability to get out of bed in the morning, the shortness of breath, irritability, the feeling that she was being persecuted by everyone she knew, the wide open chasm between what she wanted and what she had.\u00a0 \u201cWell, not really,\u201d she amended, then launched into the story that she came prepared to tell him.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cA few days ago, I took Oscar to see his friend Davy play soccer. We\u2019ve never really encouraged him at sports, and I guess I feel bad about it because on weekends, while all the other kids are busy with football or Little League, he can\u2019t even get a playdate, so once in a while, I take him to the park to watch his friends on their teams.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cGrant\u2019s much better at it than I am. He never gets impatient with the other parents\u2019 small talk. You\u2019d think two adults would want to have a more sophisticated level of conversation than discussing their kid\u2019s latest digestive disorders. I can\u2019t even fake my interest.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cAnd that upsets you?\u201d Lauder probed as Meem reached for a tissue just in case.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cMaybe everyone\u2019s right. Maybe there\u00a0<em>is<\/em>\u00a0something wrong with me. Like this day I\u2019m telling you about at the soccer field. Oscar ran up and asked if he and Davy could have a playdate. I looked around for Davy\u2019s mom, hoping she\u2019d take them to her house, not the other way around, because her little Davy was as grumpy as an old man, and I didn\u2019t think I could stand even a few minutes with him, but it was too late. His mom was already coming towards me, eager to hand her son over to me.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cOscar shrugged when I asked the boys what they wanted to do. Having gotten through the first stages of initiating a playdate, he seemed incapable of finessing the rest.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I have a gazillion things to take care of,\u2019 the mom went on. \u201cThere\u2019s shopping, laundry, Napoleon needs a walk. I can\u2019t do anything with the kid around, but if you want to take him, bless your heart. I mean, how do you do it? I get everything done, but it seems like there\u2019s always something more to do.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I try not to do too much,\u2019 I told her. \u2018Maybe I don\u2019t wash the dishes or buy groceries as often as I should, but no one\u2019s complaining.\u2019 Then I laughed because no one was complaining\u2026about that anyway.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018What I wouldn\u2019t give for two or three days off,\u201d the mom continued. \u201cI mean completely off.\u00a0 No husband, no kid. No dog. You know what I\u2019d do?\u00a0 Just sit on my ass eating bon-bons and watch\u00a0<em>Judge Judy.<\/em>\u00a0Some women go to spas, but why waste good money? You strike me as the type that when given the choice would go off somewhere romantic with your husband. Well, not me. I...\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Pick up Davy around 4:00. We should be home by then.\u2019 I told her.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Can we go to the Elephant Playground?\u2019 Oscar started jumping up and down while Davy stared at me as if I\u2019d just come from Mars and landed on Earth. I guess I must look pretty strange.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhat\u2019d you mean?\u201d\u00a0 Lauder wondered.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cOh, I don\u2019t know. I\u2019m just not like everyone else.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Lauder seemed to take note, then asked what happened next.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI like that playground. The swings and monkey bars are just the right size, and I knew Grant wouldn\u2019t mind if we came home a little late. He was probably on the computer reading\u00a0<em>National Geographic<\/em>, or tinkering with something to take his mind off of what\u2019s been happening with us.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cBut then, as we were walking, I watched Davy run up and pull Oscar\u2019s arms behind his back. \u2018You\u2019re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have a right to an attorney.\u00a0 If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.\u2019 Davy announced.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Rights?\u2019 Oscar balked. \u2018What\u2019re\u00a0<em>rights<\/em>?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cDavy stopped for a moment and pointed a finger into the air as if he was some kind of attorney. \u2018The government gives you these rights that are yours and they\u2019re called inalienable rights. Haven\u2019t you ever heard that shit on TV?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Davy,\u2019 I cut him off. \u2018We don\u2019t use that word.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018What word.\u2019 Davy looked baffled.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018That word you just said.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018<em>Rights<\/em>?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018You know what I mean.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Come on, mom,\u2019 Oscar pleaded. \u2018I\u2019ve heard it before.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Which word?\u2019 Davy\u2019s eyes grew wider.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018<em>Shit<\/em>!\u2019 I said, stomping my foot on the ground. \u2018That\u2019s the word we never use. At least Oscar doesn\u2019t.\u2019 Then I breathed deeply because my chest was tightening like it\u2019s been doing lately, and I felt like I was going to suffocate. \u2018Now, can we have a good time,\u00a0<em>please<\/em>?\u2019 I begged.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cYou know,\u201d Meem looked up at Lauder, stepping outside her story. \u201cI\u2019ve stopped being shocked at how often Oscar\u2019s friends use bad language. I have no idea what really happens behind closed doors but judging from their behavior, I can only guess at all the fighting, cursing, pornography, violence. Don\u2019t parents know that their kids are these fledglings looking to us for guidance? Instead, we give them talk show explanations and sitcom dialogue. Soon, not only my son, but the whole country will be acting like Bart Simpson.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Lauder\u2019s cell phone went off and he looked down to see the number of the caller, then excused himself to take the call. Obviously, someone with more pressing issues, Meem reasoned, disappointed that she hadn\u2019t even gotten to what she really wanted to tell him.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">When he stepped back into the room, he nodded for her to continue, but it took her several seconds to recover her momentum. \u201cThis is really what I want to say: At the playground, I found a quiet bench far away from everyone else where I could sit in the sun and read while keeping an eye on the boys. Nearby, infants with their round bodies stuffed into saddles on the swings, rocked back and forth, their mothers or babysitters pushing them, while staring blankly into space talking on their cell phones.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI still remember Oscar at that age. Everything was so exhausting. Grant and I were too sleep deprived to have had any new thoughts or to really carry on a conversation even with each other. We\u2019d walk around that playground like zombies, happy to put Oscar in the swing and give ourselves a break for a moment or two. Maybe our marriage was unraveling even back then and we didn\u2019t know it? The effort to understand a needy creature drained us of our energy and prevented us from paying attention to each other.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIsn\u2019t that what child rearing is all about: giving yourself over to your baby\u2019s needs? You were only doing what came naturally.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cBut I was losing myself.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c<em>That<\/em>\u00a0was who you were, who you needed to be. If you want, you\u2019ll find that self again.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cAnyway,\u201d Meem continued, thinking that Lauder hadn\u2019t really grasped what she was saying. \u201cAt the playground, I watched the older kids dangling from the jungle gym and racing across the wooden bridges, and for a moment, I thought I\u2019d lost sight of Oscar, but then I spotted him in the middle of a group of boys gathered around the water fountain. I checked for Davy too, fully aware that he was my responsibility and no matter what I really thought of him, I was bound by play-date etiquette to give him the same vigilant care I\u2019d give my own son.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cA strong wind swept through the park, and I remember wishing I\u2019d brought a scarf or sweatshirt, but the breeze passed, and I was left in the sunshine again. I think I was reading an article about Courtney Love, a different kind of mother. Courtney did what Courtney wanted, and the public hated her for it.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cSuddenly, some commotion brought my attention back. At first, I couldn\u2019t tell what direction the shouts were coming from, but then I looked over to the water fountain and saw that a group of older boys had pushed the younger ones aside. Although the newcomers were probably only a couple of years older, they were unaccompanied by any watchful adults.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI searched to see if another grown-up was close enough to intervene if the new boys caused trouble, but the other mothers and care givers had all moved away, making it seem as if the dynamics in the playground had shifted, but the boys didn\u2019t scare me. If there was a problem, I knew Oscar wasn\u2019t the one who was going to get hurt.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cWhy do you say that?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Meem smiled proudly. \u201cOscar knows how to take care of himself and has a good sense of danger. I never worry that he\u2019ll walk off with any stranger, stick his finger into an electric socket, or chase a ball into the street. It was Davy I was more concerned about. Something in that kid\u2019s brain just didn\u2019t seem wired right. Then I heard it. A high pitched squeal. \u2018You\u2019re under arrest! You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you\u2019re not able to afford one, one will\u2026\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cIt was too late. One of the older boys socked Davy right under his eye. For a moment, Davy stood there stunned as I rushed towards them yelling for the older boys to get away; then I grabbed and pulled him and Oscar close, glancing around to the other adults to confirm that an injustice had just taken place.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Are you all right?\u2019 I asked Davy who was whimpering at my side.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Are you okay?\u201d Oscar repeated and turned to me. \u2018Why were those boys so mean? That kid just punched him.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018He\u2019s under arrest!\u2019 Davy shouted impotently.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Do you need some wipes?\u201d Another mom handed me a packet of tissues. \u2018Those boys shouldn\u2019t be allowed in the playground. Someone should have stopped them.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI brushed the tears from Davy\u2019s face, thinking about what the mother had just said. I don\u2019t know where my feelings were coming from, but instead of wanting to comfort Davy, I felt angry and just wished he\u2019d shut up and stop crying. A round welt was coming up below his eye, and suddenly, I knew it was all my fault.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018It\u2019s over now. It\u2019s not so bad.\u2019 I tried to comfort him.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018It\u2019s over now. Those were very bad boys. They shouldn\u2019t be allowed in the playground.\u00a0 Someone should keep them out,\u2019 Oscar echoed.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I want my mommy.\u2019 Davy whelped.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cHow was I ever going to explain it to her? It\u2019d\u00a0 just prove everything she probably already suspected: I was an unfit mother. I didn\u2019t know how to care for a child. But then there was Oscar, as safe and as well cared for as any other kid in the park.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Let\u2019s go on with the playdate,\u2019 I suggested. \u2018Do you think you can still have a good time?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018It hurts,\u2019 Davy whimpered, holding his hand to his face.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I know, but it\u2019s going to be okay. That boy did a very bad thing. Nobody should hit another person like that.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018My mom hits me, but that\u2019s okay because she\u2019s my mom.\u2019 Davy sniffled.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Well, nobody hits me.\u2019 Oscar offered.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018People have different ways of letting their children know they\u2019ve done something wrong.\u2019 I tried to explain. \u2018Not everyone is brought up the same way. You two are lucky. You have moms and dads who love you. Some kids don\u2019t even have that.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Yeah,\u2019 Oscar agreed.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I\u2019m gonna tell my mommy.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I\u2019ll tell her too,\u2019 I assured him. \u2018I\u2019m sorry I didn\u2019t get to you in time to stop him.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI could feel the other mothers\u2019 eyes on me as I walked back to the bench. They were probably judging me just like I\u2019d asked the boys not to judge others. For a moment, I wished I could explain how I was feeling, maybe sit down with them and talk about nannies, diaper rash, rectal thermometers, Pre-K, jogging strollers, nursing bras--whatever was on their minds. But then I looked at my magazine and knew I\u2019d rather read about Courtney Love.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cBy 3:30, Oscar and Davy were back in the apartment drinking chocolate milk and eating Oreo cookies. At 4:00, Davy\u2019s mother rang the buzzer, and before I could stop him, Davy charged downstairs. From where I stood on the landing, I heard the woman gasp, then her footfalls coming up the steps.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018What\u2019s this?\u00a0 What\u2019s happened to my boy?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">She\u2019d twisted Davy\u2019s arm above his head and\u00a0 pushed him forward as if she were presenting me with Exhibit A.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018It\u2019s really not as bad as it looks.\u2019 I tried to reassure her.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018He\u2019s been hit. Somebody\u2019s hit my baby. You should\u2019ve called me the minute it happened.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018They\u2019ve been playing nicely all afternoon.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018What if the same thing happened to your kid?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I guess I would\u2019ve handled it the same way. I don\u2019t want them to be scared of other people. The more frightened they think we are, the more scared they\u2019ll become.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018If bad boys are after my child, I want to know about it.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018He told me he was okay, and I knew you\u2019d come get him soon enough.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Well, he\u2019s not okay. He\u2019s got a shiner the size of Shea Stadium.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018We put ice on it.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018At least you got the names of the kids who did it?\u00a0 Did someone call the police?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018They were just kids. They ran away. And I doubt they would\u2019ve given me their names anyway.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cThe mother shook her head. \u2018You bleeding hearts amaze me. Everyone gets the benefit of the doubt, but somebody has to take the blame. Come on Davy. Let\u2019s get out of here.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI looked after them as she grabbed her son and hurried down the stairs, rounding the landing until they were out of sight. Then I sat down on the top step and lowered my head so Oscar wouldn\u2019t see me cry.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Mommy,\u2019 Oscar tried to soothe me, but even that didn\u2019t help. With my eyes closed, I imagined a gust of wind flinging out a deck of playing cards: the Jack of Hearts, the Three of Spades, the Queen of Diamonds--cards flying everywhere, each one hitting a brick wall in front of me then landing face up on the ground. That\u2019s when I realized that my life is like those playing cards: random, incomprehensible, and impossible for me to put back together again.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Come here, baby.\u2019 I said, reaching out for Oscy.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018What\u2019s wrong, mom?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to hurt Davy.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018I know.\u00a0 A bad boy hit him.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018My sweetheart.\u00a0 I\u2019m so glad the bad boy didn\u2019t hit you.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018It\u2019s still our playground, right? We can go there whenever we want.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018Whenever we want.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018And daddy too?\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201c\u2018And daddy too.\u2019<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Meem stopped telling her story and took a deep breath, glancing quickly at Lauder\u2019s travel clock to see how many minutes were left.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cSo you blame yourself?\u201d\u00a0 Lauder asked.<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u201cNot exactly. I mean, it could\u2019ve happened to anyone, and there were all these other factors. It seems as if I\u2019m always walking this tightrope, trying to do an impossible balancing act.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">\u2018You can\u2019t expect to cure an incurable illness or stop the way other people think.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;text-align: justify\">Then the knot in Meem\u2019s chest loosened and it happened again as it happened each time she was about to leave his office: she began to cry. \u201cMaybe I could\u2019ve done things differently? 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