End of a Long Evening
This is post 38 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here.
Bennett climbed with relief into his wife’s little car. It had been a long evening. First the getting lost and wandering in dangerous parts of town; then the tire, and having to drive on it flat rather than risk death by pulling over and getting out. At the party, where he’d hoped for a quiet drink free from women, even if infested by the wrong sort of men, he’d instead been assailed by mindless blaring and offensive, possibly dangerous, contortions. Immediately after, his son had decided to exhibit masculinity for the first time, but chose as his target the first decent person he’d ever voluntarily associated with. And throughout that enormous Negro androgyne hovering over everything like some sort of sorrowing Buddha. Bennett wondered vaguely if Robert might be into some new recreational drugs.
Now, though, there was the new problem of diagnosing Gwen’s mood. That, at least, was quickly resolved. After berating him affectionately for not carrying a cell phone, she placed a hand on his knee. “Thank God you’re all right, Ed,” she said. “I was worried when you left, but I was proud, too.”
“Proud?” He wasn’t sure he wanted that. Changes disturbed him.
“Yes, she said. “I have to admit I underestimated you. You took a big step tonight toward accepting Robert. I’m sure he and Jack appreciate it.”
Bennett pondered. After the first irritated shock of recognition—only natural, given the misunderstanding that had occurred—perhaps Robert’s incredulity had been tinged with something approaching gratitude. Still, the less said about the regrettable evening the better.
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Bennett climbed with relief into his wife’s little car. It had been a long evening. First the getting lost and wandering in dangerous parts of town; then the tire, and having to drive on it flat rather than risk death by pulling over and getting out. At the party, where he’d hoped for a quiet drink free from women, even if infested by the wrong sort of men, he’d instead been assailed by mindless blaring and offensive, possibly dangerous, contortions. Immediately after, his son had decided to exhibit masculinity for the first time, but chose as his target the first decent person he’d ever voluntarily associated with. And throughout that enormous Negro androgyne hovering over everything like some sort of sorrowing Buddha. Bennett wondered vaguely if Robert might be into some new recreational drugs.
Now, though, there was the new problem of diagnosing Gwen’s mood. That, at least, was quickly resolved. After berating him affectionately for not carrying a cell phone, she placed a hand on his knee. “Thank God you’re all right, Ed,” she said. “I was worried when you left, but I was proud, too.”
“Proud?” He wasn’t sure he wanted that. Changes disturbed him.
“Yes, she said. “I have to admit I underestimated you. You took a big step tonight toward accepting Robert. I’m sure he and Jack appreciate it.”
Bennett pondered. After the first irritated shock of recognition—only natural, given the misunderstanding that had occurred—perhaps Robert’s incredulity had been tinged with something approaching gratitude. Still, the less said about the regrettable evening the better.
Continue
posted by Hobbes at 5:28 PM
2 Comments:
What were the real women doing during this shin-dig? I mean, like, Chloe and Gwen. I wondered how Chloe would react to some of their shinanigans after that episode with her goofy husband. How many of those characters would she shoot?
Haha, Icy. Maybe Bennet should have brought Elizabeth along for the feminine touch.
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