Lbonded by lovebut get away During the years, both live the body and life itself according to incompatible creeds.
In the third chapter of the book (which we offer to our readers in the translation by Mario Mancini), Pandora and Edison will meet again, after a long separation, at theairport. And immediately they will collide in a thin body to body. Because theirs is un tragic swing between love and repulsion, dancer like the tip of the balance.
***
«Don't you recognize your brother?»
Turning to a familiar voice was like being hurled from a revolving door into a wall. The welcome look I'd prepared for curled up on my face. The muscles in his mouth stiffened and began to contract.
«... Edison?» I stared into the large round face, his features relaxed as if on a balloon. Looking for the hooded black eyes in his face, I thought I couldn't recognize him. His long hair was straight and thick. But the grin was unmistakable – made sulfurous with tobacco and tinged with a hint of melancholyonia mixed with ancient wit. "Sorry, but I didn't see you."
"It's hard to believe." Somewhere under all that fat was still meaning of my brother's humor. "Don't hug me."
«ma s. " My hands met somewhere on her round shoulders, a soft and warm shape, but alien. This time, hugging me, he didn't lift me off the ground like he usually did. As we parted I met her gaze, my chin lifted slightly. Edison had always always been taller than me, but not now. It wasn't natural to look down on my brother.
«You do not need wheelchair, then?”
«Nooo, has been the airline's zeal. Not approxmmino faster as it used to be.»Edison – the creature that had swallowed Edison – panted towards the nosetro baggage carrier. «PI thought you hadn't seen me."
«It's been more than four years. I thought it would take me a minuteor. Please leave it to me." She allowed me to shoulder her battered brown bag. The last time that ero went out with my brother in New York I had had to chase him as he proceeded with his awkward, crouching gait, at the risk of falling behind in a foreign city with him nimbly slipping between pedestrians without bumping into lit cigarettes. Now, walking towards the exit of the airport, I had to proceed in short steps like a bride down the aisle to the altar.
"How was the flight?" stupid question, but my mind was whirling. Edison had aroused a series of emotions in me over the years: amazement, admiration, frustration (and he always left them open). But I never felt sorry for my brother and pity was horrible to me.
«The plane managed to take off – he grunted – even with me on boardor. Is that what you mean?”
"I meant nothing."
"Then say nothing."
I stayed there without saying anything. I was already making a journey, all uphill, to learn a new type of etiquette totally foreign to me. Edison might as well have made some sarcasm about se himself and, if he had presented himself in front of me with an appearance even vaguely similar to the brother I remembered, he almost certainly would have taken the piss on me too but, when a brother who weighs fifty kilos heavier appears in front of you in an airport of the last time you saw him, you say nothing at all.
Finally we reached the exit. You offer mei to bring the car to the place despite having parked a few hundred meters ahead. A middle-aged lady with a good haircut, hanging around the information office, he confirmed that we were being watched.
"Sorry to disturb you," said the stranger. «Is not by chance Pandora Halfdarson?»
For many, a young girl along with an older brother being approached for an autograph or, for anything else, feel a sense of gratification. However not today, in order to leave I almost denied being that person. But on the other hand, explaining the reason for the lie to Edison would be difficult, so I said: "Yup".
"I thought so," the woman said. «I recognized her from her profile on Vanity Fair. Well, I have to tell you that my marito gave me a Baby doll Monotonous for our anniversary. I don't know if you remember – certainly not, you will have seen many – she is wearing a stiff dress, a haughty hat and a stitched remote control in her hand. She says things like this: “George, you know you need to cut back on the salt! AND, George, you know I can't stand that shirt! AND, George, you know I don't understand politicsof the Middle Easte"! Or sometimes he preens: "I went to Bryn Maaaaaaaawr!". I almost got offended, but then I knowno laughing. I didn't think di be so indulgent and controlled. That doll saved my marriageI. So I wanted to thank you."
Don't get me wrong, I'm generally very nice to happy customers. I don't like being recognized in public as many would like – including Edison –, because I don't like to indulge in affectation. What baffles me about these encounters is the embarrassment that comes from being recognized without recognizing anda my turn, that's not right. As, I'm usually warm, chatty, and appreciative, but not today. Turn off the enthusiasm by saying: «Good, I'm happy for her», and headed for the pedestrian crossing.
«It is true that ifi the daughter of Travis Appaloosa?!” the woman shouted from behind my back.
Annoyed, because of the reporter di Vanity Fair that he had found out without my having declared it, I did not answer the question. Edison exploded behind me: "Don't mess around, lady. Travis Appaloosa he is Pandora's father Halfdarson. Ctake this bullshit!"
Luckily, when I got back to the car from the curb she was gone. Putting the suitcase in the trunk, I said: "I'm sorry about that womanto. Honestly, it rarely happens."
"It's the cost of success, dear" said Edison with a hoarse voice.
It took us a while to push the front seat of our Toyota Camry down to the last notch. Climbing inside, Edison aput a hand on the door: I thought the hinges took the weight, I would have gladly helped, but I was afraid that leaning towards me we would both end up on the ground. She lowered herself into the seat as gently as a giant crane moving a container off a ship. As the last few inches came in, the chassis of the car leaned to the right. The knees were wedged in the glovebox and I had togive a smack to the side to close the door. The strong hips were good for something too. I had some trouble pushing the handbrake, against which he pressed an Edison thigh; his forearm fell on the gear lever, so as to make it difficult to operate. I didn't know whether to call Fletcher [her husband] to warn him, even if anticipating that the brother-in-law who landed at the airport was three times the size of the brother-in-law he had hosted the last time seemed pointless to me. As I pulled out of the parking lot, his phone rang and I acknowledged the call. After the meeting on the sidewalkand with the woman passionate about Baby Monotonous it was the last thing I wanted and so I didn't answer.
Edison rummaged in the pockets of his black leather jacket – a high-fashion design with flashes that had taken half a cow to make. He had replaced a long leather coat he had worn for years with a belt as smooth as the skin of an eggplant; he always wore it with the collar turned up. It made him look so fabulous, so mysteriously mafia and elegant. I wondered what happened to the original, because, in addition to nostalgia, knowing what happened to the smallest clothes could be a key to understanding how Edison imagined his future. This looser, oversized jacket had the look of shapeless plastic and not the stuffy style of his old wardrobe. I had no idea di where did he get those clothes, i haven't seen sizing like this since Kohl's or even at Target.
He pulled out what looked like a large donut with a white glaze, as congealed on baking paper. Not him I said: “Leaves, I feel like the last thing you need". I didn't tell him: "You know, I read that donut tops out at 900 calories a piece". Not him I said: "You know, we'll have dinner in half an hour". Anything I didn't tell him could have filled the entire recorded groove of one of my talking dolls.
instead, even the most innocent phrase sound full of tension. I said then: "What are you doing?". As if it weren't obvious.
«Qualche cdhe said, chewing on the icing. «Mostly concerts in New York, here the scene has moved to Brooklyn. I'm hooked on guitarist Charlie Hunter, which is really screwing up. Other up-and-comers like John Hebert,John O'GallagherBen World, Bill McHenry. All thrown into an event with Michael breckers last year at 55 Bar, and it's a damn shame he died of leukemia. We would have sold out at Bird hernd. It's a normal act nyack Rrestaurant which is boring, even if with so many places closing we have to take what comes along. The Hair Jazz Camp for bread, but believe it or not, your brother has raised some promising students. Naturally sto working on my pieces. Coming up in December is an extensive tour of Spain and Portugal. Maybe next fall the London Jazz Festivals. Some interest from Brazil, not yet materialized. Money is not enoughwhoa Cat he's working on it in Rio."
I was used to the catalog of names that meant nothing to me. Eyes on the road, I could hear my brother the way I'd always heard him: cheeky, clear-headed, confident, no matter the disappointments of the present – something profitable and important was just daround the corner. In the meantime I was thinking that it was not clear on the phone that he was so fat.
“Speak to Travis After?"
Travis appalosa it sounded fake – and it was. “Papa”, born Hugh Halfdarson, had taken the pompous stage name when I was six and Edison nine, too late not to seem false. That's what we always called him Travis, with an implied elbow striketo the ribs, as if to say “Btake this”. And yet in childhood and adolescence Travis he had delighted us with Bill's musical familiarity BixbyDanny Bonaduce and Barbara Billingsley. Perhaps the string of syllables that rings out across the nation every Wednesday at nine may not sound so ridiculous. From 1974 to 1982, Travis Appaloosa it was part of the landscape, just as Hugh had always hoped Halfdarson [real name of the father].
"One month ago - I said - he was obsessed with his website. Did you see it? There was a trivial quiz about Joint Custody [series tv where Travis was the star". A “Where are they now? Keep up to date with any substanceat tiffany Kite he is shooting". "
«Generally Travis it's not one of those television names that are available to youin your head in childhood" I said.
«You'd be surprised. You don't use her last name. But I'm asked about him more often than you think."
In fact, I had used Pandora's name a few times in college appalosa. I naively thought that, if others knew who I was, I would have gotten better acquainted. But pretty soon the question I would be asked - “Some kinship do you have with Travis? " - began to appear deceptive and counterproductive to me. The my classmates at Reed they would have liked to talk only about my father, the TV star, in current terms. I would have reduced myself to a hyperlink to someone else on a Wikipedia page. So I went back to the name of Halfdarson when I moved to Iowa.
In recent years not even fans of the tv once upon a time they know how to recognize my father's pseudonym, the current disuse of which resigned it to the foolishness that had made my mother burst out laughing. But I was glad to be back to the awkward Swedish singsong my father had replaced, because Halfdarson it was my real name. I had often enjoyed the teasing of my father's and Edison's surname, that ritual contact with our silly and unusual history.
I rarely talked to Fletcher about my childhood. In the beginning of my relationship with him, I didn't even mention that my father had been a television actor in a very popular program until I was sure he had seen Joint Custody when it was first scheduled. Nevertheless, however firmly I have remarked that my upbringing anonconformist a Tujunga hills, was a minor episode in an otherwise ordinary life by fate, Fletcher saw it as an increase in rank and I never mentioned the subject again. Only with Edison can I return to a past which, howeverervi, I'm reluctant to throw completely nettles.
In any case it was my past. The only one I had. I grew up with a series of parallels that expressed varying degrees of distortion and caricature of reality. Not only did I have a father named Hugh Halfdarson, which had ridiculously changed it to Travis Appaloosams e who played anotheror father by name Enroy Field, a fake father who was much better than the real dad, monomaniac and self-centered, whom I occasionally saw at home. I wasn't just Pandora Halfdarson, but I could choose to be, if I wanted, Pandora Appaloosa and for eight years every Wednesday night I could identify with an idealized version of myself, MapleFields [daughter of the protagonist of Joint Custody], a sweeter and more generous girl than me who always tried to put her parents back together. In turn, Maple Fields she was played by one of those rare child actresses who aren't disliked both on screen and in life, though floy Newport wasn't even his real name. I adored her and sometimes thought they should keep producing the show and cancel the real family. You can thus see that my tendency to model life doubles was almost inevitable. After all, the episode of night gallery which I liked best was The Doll.
This time back to New The Netherlands, our traditional exchange of comments – primarily on the extravagant strategies that Travis had elaborated to get back into the public eye – it felt diversionary and dishonest. As we continued to talk about the latest on JoyMarkle and Tiffany Kite, I could only continue the conversation by holding fix your eyes on I-80. Take a look at the shapeless mass that was on passenger seat would have broken the spell, and it would have been unfair for Edison in those conditions to be mocked for failing to meet the expectations of youth. Because the excruciating pain of seeing ithe great gentleman in a chair the airport had only gotten worse, and I had no idea how to get through the whole evening without falling apart.
Lionel Shriver
She was born in 1957 a Gaatonia in North Carolina in a presbyopic familyorthodox erian, very religiosto. He studied at Columbia's Barnard College University and, after having lived in various Paesi, Now lives in London. Sposed with jazz drummer Jeff Williamself journalist for big titles (The Guardian, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal) and highly successful writer. THE his novels have been translated into twenty five languages. Between these, We need to talk about Kevin (Piemme, 2006) won the Orange Prize and has sold over a million copies worldwide; Shocking effects of a birthday (Piemme, 2009) was on the best list seller of the New York Times. With A whole other life (Piemme, 2011) was a finalist in the 2010 National Book Award, America's most prestigious literary award.
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