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.
Continue
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.
Continue
posted by Hobbes at 4:55 PM
4 Comments:
You know, I'm starting to worry that this novella might end after the ceremony. Say it ain't so.
It ain't so.
Phew. My relief is sincere. I've doing something I usually only do with crossword puzzles, which is strategize when and how often to enjoy this site in order to maximize my pleasure.
You're always welcome, Doug. I know this is not the best format, but I'm compulsive and have to finish the way I started.
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