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For the next three months, the mother-to-be ate so poorly, she gained fewer than fifteen pounds. Her diet consisted largely of beans and rice-a perfect protein, she proclaimed, completely disregarding her unborn baby’s need for proper nutrition. She didn’t believe in prenatal vitamins, claiming that women since the begi
Most of the time, she kept a sullen distance, but there were moments when she made a minor effort to get along, thus fostering Deborah’s hopes that a bond could be forged, however limited it might be. Her optimism was always short-lived. Shelly’s mood would darken. The unstable elements in her personality would combine, setting off the inevitable explosion. Once she blew up, Greg stepped into the role of mediator, traveling back and forth between the bus and the house. He made excuses, soothing and mollifying first Shelly and then his parents. Deborah almost preferred Shelly’s hysteria to Greg’s pathetic attempts to broker a peace.
Patrick and Deborah took to eating di
They’d known Kip and A
Kip was an architect who specialized in commercial properties-office buildings, banks, department stores. A
Patrick said, “Take a lesson from us. These kids are malcontents and they’re spoiling for a fight. Our accomplishments are worthless as far as they’re concerned. You two have the same trouble coming up only I’m betting it gets worse.”
A
Kip said, “I don’t see this business with Greg and Shelly as anything new. Kids have always been rebellious at that age, haven’t they?”
Patrick shook his head. “Not like this.”
“Shelly’s a beatnik,” Deborah said. “She told me she lived for months in a crash pad in North Beach, where all the ‘cool cats’ hung out.”
“A beatnik? That’s passé, isn’t it?”
“Not to hear her tell it. She claims she screwed Allen Ginsberg and Lawrence Ferlinghetti in the same six-day period.”
A
“Oh, sure. Proud as Punch. I could see she was hoping I’d recoil in horror so she could accuse me of being uptight and out of it. I just sat there and blinked and then asked if she’d ever had the clap.”
A
“She said that wasn’t the point. She was experiencing life to the fullest, which was more than I could say.”
Patrick said, “I hadn’t heard that bit. Where was Shawn all this time while she was getting it on?”
“They were all there together-kids, moms, strangers, potheads, and heroin addicts. They played guitars and bongo drums and made money writing poems they sold to tourists on the streets.”
Patrick finished his drink and signaled the waitress for another. Kip raised his hand as well, like two guys bidding on the same lot at an art auction.
Patrick shook his head in exasperation. “What’s wrong with these kids? You give them the best of everything and they end up spitting in your face. This girl knows it all. You should hear her mouth off. She doesn’t have a brain in her head and she’s got the gall to criticize the president of the United States, like she has a clue. She can’t even run her own life. They’re vegetarians, for god’s sake. Do you know how much time and energy that takes?”
A
“Oh, please. You think Shelly cooks? No, ma’am. She refuses to subordinate herself. Deborah’s the one saddled with all the meals. You ask me, it’s just one more form of narcissism, making everybody jump to their tune while they sit there thinking they’re above it all.”
A
“My point exactly. Ask her,” he said, hooking a thumb in Deborah’s direction.
“You know what she eats, Patrick. If it were up to her, every meal would be soy cakes, sprouts, and brown rice. Shawn would starve to death if I didn’t give him peanut butter sandwiches behind her back. You should see him wolf down his food. He’s like a little animal.”
The waitress set down two fresh drinks along with a basket of Parker House rolls and a plate of individual butter pats. Kip turned to A
“I better lay off. I’m embarking on a new exercise program-a half-mile ocean swim three mornings a week.”
“Starting on a Saturday? You’re not serious!”
“I am. I leave the kids with a sitter. It’s the only time I have for myself.”
“Must be freezing.”
“You get used to it.”
Deborah said, “I’ll make the sacrifice and drink her wine as long as you’re ordering. It’s the least I can do.”
Kip asked the waitress for a bottle of Merlot, pointing to his selection on the wine list before he surrendered it.
Deborah raised her hand. “Here’s one I almost forgot. Yesterday, I found Shelly sobbing her heart out. It was the first emotion I’d seen that wasn’t anger, petulance, or disdain. I thought maybe she missed her mother, but when I asked, she said she was still in mourning because Sylvia Plath had killed herself.”
A
“A poet,” Patrick said. “She was mentally ill.”
A
That set Patrick off again. “Here’s the kicker as far as I’m concerned. Shelly doesn’t like vegetables. The only vegetable she’ll eat is beans. She doesn’t like fruit either. She says bananas are disgusting and apples make her teeth hurt. She’s got a list of food no-no’s that includes just about everything known to man. Except quinoa, whatever the hell that is.”