Princess Power

This is post 4 of Section V. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here, and Section V begins here.

Lizzy, who had scarcely been able to keep her mind on her computer game that morning, flung herself on him. “Steve! Come on. Let’s play my new Princess Power game. I got to the Emerald Cave this morning.”
Stephen, who had been apprised of his task, made a face. “Do we have to? See, I’m not really good at those games, and I don’t like to lose all the time.”
“It’s o. k., Lizzy said, encouragingly. “I’ll teach you. It’s easy.”

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Hope for the Future

This is post 3 of Section V. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here, and Section V begins here.

Returning her attention to her parents (who were peering at her anxiously) was like waking from a nightmare. Suddenly she knew the color of her cheese without even reading the book. “Actually,” she said, “I’d like to go to law school,” and for the first time in her life she felt cool all on her own.

She left the next day to begin the divorce and collect her things. Bennett drove her to the airport and on the way ascertained that she had not taken any special notice of Jack’s brother at the wedding. After he came back he felt confused and retreated to his chair in the study, where he dozed off and dreamed that Chloe walked down an aisle in a satin dress with a briefcase and hit Jack’s brother over the head with it, but somehow in the dream it was all for the best. He woke feeling better and began to work on the introduction to his book, tentatively titled, “Swords and Ploughshares: Pastoralism and the Western Nation-State.”
Stephen came over that afternoon, and Bennett and Gwen retired to their respective offices, leaving their doors ajar, however, to hear how he did.

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Finding the Yellow Brick Road

This is post 2 of Section V. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here, and Section V begins here.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the encouragement, Daddy. Seriously, it’s about empowering you to go after the job that’s right for you, in the way that’s right for you.”
“(Follow the yellow brick road),” muttered Bennett, recalling Scarecrow Man.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Gwen said, “but Chloe, maybe you should try not reading for a while, dear. At least, nothing recent.”
There was a lull in the conversation while Chloe counted to ten, breathing deeply, a technique she recalled from Good People, Bad Feelings. After all, like it or not, she would have to depend on her parents for a while.
“You could make an exception for The Chronicle of Higher Education,” her father said. “Your mother and I will support you if you want to go back to graduate school.”
Tension gripped Chloe at the very suggestion, undoing most of the good of the breathing exercise. A vivid memory of her boss at North Central, smiling as he encouraged her to substitute authentic, hands-on projects for dry writing assignments, finished the job. Still under the impression that he actually meant to be friendly and helpful, and intending to point out the weakness of such notions if taken too far, Chloe had jokingly suggested that she be allowed to decorate cupcakes with the major characters of The Faerie Queen in lieu of submitting a dissertation. Now, of course, she realized she might have gotten off on the wrong foot with him in that conversation.

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V

This is post 1 of Section V. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

The day after the wedding, while Lizzy was watching her Princess Power DVD, Chloe and her parents had a talk.
“So, honey, what are your plans now?” Gwen asked kindly.
Chloe looked worried. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” she said. “Of course I don’t want to be a drain on you guys. But the thing is, I’ve never been really good at much besides reading books. Speaking of which, have you heard about this new book, What Color Is Your Cheese?”
“Stinky Jobs in a Moldy Economy?” Bennett enquired.

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Fairy Tales May Come True

This is post 16 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Back at home, Bennett sat next to Gwen on the sofa with Fafnir’s head in his lap. Gwen kissed him on the cheek. “It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” she said. “I’ve never seen Robert so happy.”
Bennett nodded, patting the dog’s head absentmindedly. He felt peculiar, and not only because of an overeager consumption of oysters and champagne. Closing his eyes, he saw Chloe floating down the aisle again and wondered if she had the same thought he did, that she should have a day like this, a perfect, fairy-tale day. With the thought came awareness of his omission. “You didn’t get to know Jack’s brother by any chance, did you, Gwen?”
“What’s to know?” she said, dismissively. “He’s not as big a homophobe as the parents, according to Robert.”
“Oh dear,” Bennett said, trying not to sound too pleased. He closed his eyes again, and this time enjoyed the vision of Chloe in the satin dress. Her day would come.

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Where Troubles Melt Like Lemon Drops

This is post 15 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Bennett, Gwen, Chloe and Lizzy had arrived early and thus avoided the Grout menace. Bennett stood as near as he could to the door of the sanctuary, listening to the delectable strains of a string quartet recruited for the occasion and wondering moodily if homosexuals would be the sole heirs of civilized culture in a generation or two. He was dimly aware of a sort of angry buzzing from time to time among the guests, and gathered that the Grout boy was at the bottom of it, but he refused to allow any of that to impair his listening pleasure. Gwen, it is true, had come in from the steps, where she was helping Chloe with Lizzy, ablaze with righteous indignation, but apparently the problem had been handled, because Bennett escaped conscription. Chloe was too busy containing the peripatetic Lizzy to get involved with anything else.
Bennett enjoyed the ceremony, in so far as that was possible. He liked coming in to Haydn’s Emperor Quartet. He enjoyed the other music too, mostly. The counter tenor aria made him feel a bit hinky, but it was mercifully short, and the hymns and prayers were old favorites. Gwen spent the first few minutes whispering some unintelligible story about the man in the loud tie who was stretched out in the back pew massaging his ankle, but once she saw Lizzy and Chloe start down the aisle she squeezed Bennett’s leg and dabbed her eyes like any sentimental mother of a bride. Chloe floated past them in a simple cream satin confection of a dress that caused Bennett himself to get misty-eyed for a moment. It did not escape him that Jack’s square-jawed, granite-faced best man and brother lost his grip on the proceedings from the moment he saw her, and Bennett made a mental note to get to know him better at the reception. Lizzy, who accompanied her mother, holding a pillow with the rings, did indeed look, as her grandmother said, like a little angel, but the heavy bribery this illusion had entailed was apparent when she interrupted the ceremony to enquire in audible stage whispers about when Chloe was planning to purchase the Princess Power movie on special edition DVD as promised. The tactful Stephen, who had settled in a front pew after ushering, eventually removed the little girl, to everyone’s satisfaction.
The reception, at the Enders art museum, was tasteful and gourmet, with a woodwind quintet—Frank was feeling well enough to play—and at the end the happy couple left to catch a flight for a few days on Key West amid a cloud of bubbles and the quintet playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

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Judgment Day

This is post 14 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

“Oh no,” Mitchell said, looking around in case any more apparitions were preparing to rise up around him. “I know my rights. Your kind always think you can flaunt your twisted, sinful ‘lifestyle’ and silence all the God-fearing citizens of this great country. Well, let me tell you, I’ve read the Constitution, and last time I checked I was still free to—”
“Listen honey,” Sheba cut in. “Alls I know is, I just saw what sure looked like a hate crime. Now why don’t you get your little Rush Limbutt outa here, before I call the cops. O. k.? Let me escort you to your car.”
Sheba stood, smiling encouragingly and offering a large arm that seemed meant to be comforting. Grout looked behind him wistfully at the cars that had begun to come in a steady stream. “All right,” he said. “All right, I’ll go. But you keep your filthy hands off me. And just remember this. We’ll all be judged one day. And when that great day comes—” “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” Sheba said. “And don’t forget your Fist of Adonis.” She threw it in the back, and after seeing Grout off returned to the church, humming melodiously.

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Groutrage*

This post contains a dirty, stinky word.

This is post 13 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

At last Grout reacted. “You perverted little shit—” he glanced upward nervously—“excuse my language.” Stepping heavily forward, he pushed Frank hard in the chest, causing him to lose his footing and lurch backward into the drainage ditch beside the driveway.
Sheba seemed to materialize out of nowhere. A few recent arrivals also hurried over. “I’m o. k.,” Frank said weakly, enjoying their ministrations. “Just help me inside, please.”
“Mr. Grout!” Sheba intoned. “Such unpleasantness. Shame on you.” She stooped and picked the arm out of a puddle. “Come on, now. Take your present and go home.”

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Frank's Gift

This is post 12 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

“Of course they do,” Frank said, placing an understanding hand on Grout’s arm and chuckling inwardly at the instant rigor homophobis this provoked. “I just wanted you to know that I personally read your materials and found them absolutely fascinating.”
While Grout was looking at him suspiciously, several cars drove in unmolested. Frank moved his attack into phase two. Looking earnestly into Grout’s eyes and now stroking his sleeve, Frank continued, “To tell you the truth, you got me really worried.”
With an awkward twitching movement, Grout threw off his admirer’s caressing hand. His eyes darted to the item swathed in a plastic bag under Frank’s other arm. “Good. That’s the first step, like it says right here--” he pointed to a paragraph in one of his pamphlets. “But don’t stop there. You’ve got to get right with God. Because God is love, buddy. The greatest love you’ll ever know. Believe it.”
“Oh I do, Mitchell,” Frank said, halting Grout in the act of turning away. “That’s why I’m worried about you.” He unshrouded the object—a rubber arm with a fist at the end—and extended it toward Grout. “I worry that people like you don’t feel enough of God’s love. Deep down, where you need it, I mean.” Grout stared at the thing in disbelief. “Don’t worry. It’s lubricated.”

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Flouting God's Word

This is post 11 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

In the parking lot Frank stopped at his vintage purple MG, withdrew an item from his little blue gym bag, and waved it at Sheba, who laughed approvingly. Then he strolled to the mouth of the driveway, leaving Sheba by the car. As Frank approached, another car gunned its engine, accelerating past Grout, who smacked his leaflets angrily against his free hand and strode after the car, aiming to accost the passengers.
Frank distracted him. “Oh Mitchell,” he called, waving. “Over here!”
Grout crossed the driveway opening, apprehension writ large on his coarse features. “I have a right to be here, you know,” he said. “People have a right to know how this ‘church’ is flouting God’s holy word.”

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Cleaning Crew

This is post 10 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Frank raised a hand. “Children, children. Please! I will scrub the Grout. (It’s the least I can do to make amends),” he added, in an aside with a wink to Robert.
“Wait for me, honey!” Sheba called, tripping after him. They went out arm in arm. At the door Sheba looked back and sang, “‘We are family. I got all my sisters with me’” in falsetto. Frank joined in.
On the way out of the church they passed several guests with disgusted looks and the nervous priest, who was stuffing his leaflets into a wastebasket. “Do you know what’s going on out there?” he asked. “Condoning same-sex union ceremonies is a pretty recent development for our church, you know. I mean, we don’t want to seem as if we’re flaunting it or something. Some people might misinterpret—”
“Relax—it’s under control,” said Frank, breezing by.

Çontinue

Close Encounter

This is post 9 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Sheba fluttered nervously. Frank burst out laughing and declared Glenn was priceless. But before he could say more, Willie Eisenberg, the woman who had danced so provocatively on the bar at the bachelor party, strode in, towing her date for the occasion, a wiry looking African American woman who made up for very short hair with very long earrings. “Jack,” Willie said, biting off each word with her faint German accent. “Something has got to be done about that Troglodyte out there.”
“Hi everybody. I’m Karen,” Willie’s date put in, shaking hands firmly all round. “We made the mistake of trying to have a discussion with him.”
“Wow—a close encounter,” Robert said in an awed voice. “A rational exchange with an alien life form. What was it like?”
Karen snorted. “You’re giving the alien too much credit.”
“I never wanted to strike somebody so much in all my life,” Willie said grimly. She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other like a boxer. “He desecrated my grandparents’ memory.”
“We tried to draw an analogy between the way the religious right stigmatizes people who disagree with them and the tactics of the Third Reich,” Karen explained.
“He went berserk,” Willie said, taking over. “Started yelling about how the religious right was going to be the victims of the next Holocaust, and how there ought to be a Holocaust Museum for all the unborn children we butcher each year.”
“Wil was practically frothing at the mouth,” Karen said. “I had to drag her away—and only out of consideration for you guys. Can we beat him up after the ceremony? Please?”

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Symptoms of Grout

This is post 8 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Robert recognized the symptoms immediately. “Mitchell Grout,” he said. “Has to be.”
Glenn, who had been propped morosely in a corner since Frank’s arrival, snorted with disgust. “Damn hypocrite Bible thumpers. Why can’t they mind their own business?”
Everyone looked startled. “Ex-wife,” Jack explained. “Long story.”
Sheba made a sympathetic cooing noise and everyone else nodded, but Glenn said, “No, it’s not just my marriage, actually. I’d be the first to admit I don’t exactly—understand you, Jack, or all these—people—you hang around with” (here he looked distastefully at Frank). But you’re my little brother. I’ve stood up for you all my life, and if you want me to go out and deck that bastard, I will.” He detached his large frame from the wall he had been leaning against and adjusted the bow tie on his tuxedo.

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Godly Relationships

This is post 7 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

As he opened the door to leave, he heard his son say, “Mom, do we have to eat Dad’s casserole? It tastes like poop.”
The mouth on that boy. Mitchell’s hand drifted toward his belt as he heard the surprise and hurt in Denise’s reproval. “Spare the rod. . . . ” But his business wouldn’t wait. If he left right now he could swing by the church, pick up some leaflets, and be at their so-called church in plenty of time. He started his car and drummed impatiently on the steering wheel, waiting for some black kids to get out of his way. Too many bad influences around here, he thought.

Frank came bouncing into the “groom’s room,” where Sheba was just touching up the makeup over Jack’s bruised jaw. “Sorry to interrupt,” Frank said happily, “but who invited the jackass in the parking lot?”
Reveling in their attention, he proceeded to relate, with appropriate dramatization, Mitchell’s approach, buttonholing, and forceful leaflet distribution. He showed them the ones he had: “‘Gay’: The Saddest Word”; “Homosexuality: Jesus IS the Cure!” and “Biblical Sexuality,” with “Why God’s Love Is Better Than Your Wildest Dreams!” in bold letters under the title.

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In God We Trust

This is post 6 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

She was unpacking the groceries now, almost flawlessly graceful. It was startling to see a box of Hamburger Helper fall out when she was unloading the rice. “Whoopsy-daisy!” she exclaimed, scooping it up in one fluid motion, but casting an appealing look in his direction.
“It’s all right,” he reassured her. “You do a beautiful job, Denise.” He passed her the celery from the bag nearest him. “You really do.”
She smiled timidly, looking at him from under her long lashes. “I made your favorite casserole for dinner,” she said. It was almost a question.
He straightened, reminding himself of how well he could have done in the Marines if his parents hadn’t always belittled his dreams. “Sorry, hon. No can do.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said, laying the celery down. “Do you have another meeting?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m going on an errand for the Lord.” He took her in his arms. “Denise, honey. You know how much I’d like to be here with you and the kids. But I was—called today, and I’ve just got to go. I’ve got to protect the sanctity of marriage. I’ve got to stand up and testify, even if they put me in jail for it.”
She looked up into his eyes. “We’ll be praying for you, Mitch. You tell us all about it when you come back—if you want to.”
He kissed her forehead and folded her in a quick, tight hug. “God bless you. I’ve gotta go.”

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Mitchell the Promise Keeper

This is post 5 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Mitchell Grout ended his conversation with his father abruptly as he pulled his Chevy under the porte-cochere of the mobile home his family occupied in the trailer park he managed. He strode in, slamming the car door behind him.
Mitchell’s wife, Denise, rose smilingly from the table where she had been homeschooling their eldest, Matthew, and ran to get the two heavy bags of groceries he had left out in the car. “How was the store, honey?” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek as she went out.
Mitchell trailed out to the kitchen with his bag and set it on the counter. Through the window over the sink he watched the white kids and black kids riding their bikes together under a golden sky that promised an unusually glorious sunset. He was of two minds about the scene. On the one hand, it showed America was the greatest country—God’s country, in fact, where white people and black people could live in perfect harmony, if it weren’t for the liberals (like his father) and their Affirmative Action crap. On the other hand, it showed he wasn’t wealthy enough to buy a home in a really good neighborhood, a fact his hypocrite father’s face never failed to register on those rare occasions when he visited and saw the black kids playing around.
Denise’s reentry distracted him. She was lovely, he thought, as he watched her hoist the two plastic bags onto the counter. No one would ever call her exactly a looker—she was a little too thin, perhaps—but he didn’t want some floozy mothering his children. He remembered making this point at his last Promise Keepers meeting. A man can’t lead without the right kind of follower.

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Apprehensions of Grout

This is post 4 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Gwen smiled, but still looked concerned. Then she shrugged. “Oh well. Probably nothing will come of it.” She hung the suit on the door and started to go into the bathroom. Then she came back. “Still, it couldn’t hurt to have your father put in a call to his father.” She started toward the door, but nearly collided with Bennett.
“Oh—ah—Gwen,” he said. “Just the person I was coming to see. I just had a call from Don Grout.”
“Oh?” Gwen gave a meaningful glance at Chloe, who pricked up her ears. “He said he didn’t want to worry us, but Mitchell called him up, apropos of nothing and was asking a lot of questions about Robert’s wedding—where, when, and so forth.”
Gwen blew out her cheeks, considering. “I guess it’s too late to prepare a PFLAG contingent.”
Bennett looked startled. “Gwen, dear, wouldn’t it be better to call as little attention to the proceedings as possible? Keep a low profile, I mean, so as not to spoil the occasion,” he added, seeing her look at him suspiciously. Of course he did mean the other things as well, that he was not allowed to think: he wished his son were not gay, saw no need to celebrate his gayness, and especially did not appreciate concerned friends and their semi-deranged offspring dragging the so-called celebration into any sort of spotlight.
But Gwen was too anxious to take further notice of his political incorrectness. They dressed in silence, except for the protestations that wafted down the hall as Chloe combed Lizzy’s hair in the guest bathroom.

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Fagomosexuality

This is post 3 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

“He’s certainly devout,” Gwen said brightly, still putting a hostessy spin on Mitchell. She began to disentangle Bennett’s suit from its dry-cleaning wrappings.
“That’s what worries me,” Chloe said. “He asked me how Robert was, and before I realized what I was doing I had mentioned the wedding and said how happy we all were for him.”
Gwen straightened, looking concerned. “What did Mitchell say?”
“He looked strange and said, ‘That’s funny. I always thought Robert was a fagomosexual.’”
“A what?”
“That’s what he said. You know, switched to the ‘right’ word halfway through.”
Gwen nodded thoughtfully. Did you explain to him?”
“I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t think he would have believed Robert had seen the error of his sinful ways. So I just said, ‘Oh that’s all right. His fiancé’s a fagomosexual too,’ and lost him in the feminine hygiene aisle.”

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Mitchell Grout

This is post 2 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.

Most people who met him remembered Mitchell, the way they might remember a place where they had stepped in dog droppings.
Gwen put on her hostess voice, used for company and all-purpose defense against the unpleasant. “Of course. Your father and I had dinner with him and his parents just a couple of months ago. He was a classmate of Robert’s, you know.”
“Yes, I remember,” Chloe said. “He was always huddled up in the carrels in the library before tests, praying. Robert said with grades like his you’d think he’d turn atheist, but I always thought he was just doing it so someone would ask him what he was doing and he could tell everyone.”

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IV

This is post 1 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here

The next morning there was a brief run-through of the ceremony. Lizzy and Chloe were subdued by the preceding day’s traumas and appeased by the Stephen solution, especially after meeting the young man. Jack, whose jaw was already feeling better, had managed to catch Glenn before he checked out of his hotel and explain things, if not to his satisfaction, at least sufficiently to prevent his decampment. All went smoothly right through the sumptuous brunch, provided by Jack and Robert. Chloe was downright penitent, in fact, and not only volunteered to go to the grocery store that afternoon, but coaxed Lizzy to go with her, even though the little girl’s favorite TV show, Princess Power, was coming on.
When they returned, however, Chloe had worrying news. “Mom?” she asked, as Gwen was getting her suit out of the dry cleaning cellophane.
“Yes dear?” Gwen was anxious to put the past behind them.
“Do you remember Mitchell Grout?”

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Tapped Out

This is post 45 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here

Back at home, they settled the dogs and gazed briefly at their incomprehensible descendants, curled together in Chloe’s old bedroom, then climbed into bed with pajamas on for form’s sake, even though Bennett believed they would soon come off. But Gwen still had one last concern to air.
“Ed?”
“Yes?” He felt the darkness and warmth settling over him and fought against them, placing a hand on Gwen’s still shapely leg beneath the blankets.
“You haven’t said much about tonight. Was it a nice party?”
Evasive maneuvers seemed in order. “Oh yes,” he said. “Quite a shindig.”
“That’s good. I’m happy for them.”
Danger averted. He resumed his tentative exploration of the leg.
“Ed?”
“Yes?” The exploration halted.
After a silence she continued. “I can’t believe it’s so hard to say this. But you know how when we first discussed your going to the party you mentioned something about your ‘untapped sexual potential’?”
Bennett recollected with effort. “Yes?”
“Do you think you might really have some?”
He laughed aloud.
“Shh, Ed. You’ll wake the kids,” she said, but she had her arms around him now, and his were around her.
“Trust me,” he said, looking down at her eyes, faintly visible in the light from outside filtering in through the sheers. “It’s tapped.” He kissed her deeply and gratefully.

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Gwen Approves

This is post 44 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here

“Come on, now,” she said, but she was smiling. “Buckle your seatbelt.”
He re-buckled laboriously. “I can’t redeem the past for you, Gwen, but I did have a possibly productive discussion with Jack. He suggested sending Stephen over to help with Lizzy.”
She gave him a shining-eyed look that made him adjust his tie modestly. He could do with a few more of those looks, he felt. “Ed, that’s a terrific idea. I can’t believe it never occurred to me. Somebody with good values, old enough to direct her, but young enough to be ‘cool.’ Would he be interested, though?”
“Apparently he has been a big hit with dubiously raised step-siblings.”
“Sounds perfect. Ed, I can’t tell you what a load you’ve taken off my mind. We’ll introduce them tomorrow. Lizzy should be on her best behavior, and the sanctuary is still computer-free, so if we cross our fingers and bribe him heavily, this just might fly.”
They were quiet the rest of the way. Bennett basked in the unaccustomed waves of approval emanating from the driver’s seat.

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Politically Incorrect

This is post 43 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here

She smiled. There was a pause. “Ed?”
“Yes?”
“Did we drive Robert to homosexuality?”
Bennett sighed and looked out the window at the dilapidated farms. It was a victory, but hollow, like most. “Do you remember what you said when I asked you that, oh, about ten years ago?”
She held up a hand. “I know, I know. I should be ridden out of PFLAG on a rail for even thinking such a question. It’s utterly bigoted and narrow-minded, not to mention self-defeating and negative parenting of the worst kind. But did we?”
They were on the highway now. Bennett leaned over and kissed her. “Careful,” he said. “Your human limitations are showing. You know I can’t resist them.”

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Revisionist Parenting

This is post 42 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here

Bennett patted her knee. “You did the right thing.”
“Did I?”
“Sure. We just probably should have done it a long time ago, as you said.”
“Done what, exactly?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Encouraged autonomous psychic development.”

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Satanic Verses

This is post 41 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here.

“Well I never suspected it, but according to Chloe, that book might as well be the Satanic Verses. She blamed it and us for every problem she’s ever had. She said we completely failed to understand the importance of socialization or multiple learning styles—What was that honking?”
Bennett had been clutching the door handle for some time. “Oh nothing. I think you ran a red light back there.” It seemed his ordeal was not over yet.
“I’m sorry, but she got me so worked up. Does she ever have that effect on you? Anyway, we, along with L. Frank Baum, have ruined her life by turning her into a geek. Oh—And we drove Robert to homosexuality. She actually said that.”
“And you said?”
“A lot of things I probably should have said a long time ago. I told her she wasn’t in Kansas any more, and that if she’d learned anything from that book she should know that no one was going to wave some magic wand and make her life perfect. I told her you and I gave our kids the finest education available, and if that made me the Wicked Witch of the West, then I happily accepted the title. I was just telling her that no grandchild of mine was going to end up an intellectually challenged, socially delayed, Ritalin-popping alternative learner, when Lizzy began to scream.”
Bennett nodded, remembering. “She has terrific breath control.”
Gwen hit the brake with unnecessary violence this time. “Fortunately, your call interrupted us, or I don’t know what would have happened.”

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