An American Love Story Read Free

cutting his meat into tiny pieces with a look of suspicion.
    “There’s black stuff on this steak,” he said.
    “That’s just the mark from the grill,” her mother said.
    “It looks like dirt.”
    “It’s not dirt. Eat it.”
    He pushed it around his plate some more. “I don’t want it,” he said, and put down his fork.
    “You’re always such a bitch when you come back from visiting your parents’ graves with your family,” her mother said. “Your family always puts you in a foul mood. I suppose they wanted money again?”
    Her father stood up, put down his napkin, and choking backtears ran out of the room. Susan felt as if there were ants crawling all over her skin, and her stomach clenched, but she and her mother pretended nothing had happened. This scene had occurred before, and it would again. Eventually her father came back to the table and murmured an apology, and then Susan cleared the table and her mother served dessert.
    The little family ate in silence. The airless cloud of her parents’ dead dreams filled the room, and Susan found it hard to breathe, afraid to look into their eyes and see their anxiety that frightened her so. She was all they had—their dream of the future since their own had betrayed them. No one had ever made a joke in that house, no one ever laughed, not even at Jack Benny or George Burns and Gracie Allen on TV. How could people live all their lives and not even try to say something funny? It was so different when she was with her friends.
    “The editor liked my piece a lot,” Susan said. “It was the one about the gut course. She said it was good satire.”
    “It was all right,” her mother said. “I would have preferred something more up to your usual elegant style.”
    “It’s a newspaper.”
    Her mother nodded, a sign she was changing the subject. “After you get rid of that boy tonight you’ll have to look around for some new ones,” she said. “Nice boys who’ll stay around and be your friends.”
    “I’m also going to be very busy with my work,” Susan said.
    “Of course your education is important, but you have to go out.”
    “Oh, I’ll go out.”
    “Excuse me,” her father said, and went into the living room to turn on the television.
    What’s wrong with me? Susan thought. Why can’t I just tell her yes yes yes and then do what I want? She’d never know. Why do I still keep trying to get her to be on my side when I know it’s hopeless?
    “We rented a house at the beach again for next summer,” her mother said. “You’ll meet some nice boys from your own background.”
    So soon! She hadn’t thought they would have to talk about next summer this soon. She crossed all her fingers under the table and took a deep breath. “Well … to tell you the truth, Mom … I was thinking about summer school,” she said. She could hear her voice shaking and was ashamed of herself for it. “There’s a writing course I’m dying to take, they want two thousand words a week, and without having to take all the required courses it would give me more time. It’s hard to get accepted, but …”
    “You can’t go to summer school; we’re going to the beach.”
    “I could come out weekends.”
    “I won’t allow you to stay in this apartment alone.”
    Angry frustration was a knot in her chest. “I could commute with Dad.”
    “No. You’ll stay there with me.”
    “But …”
    “No but. If you want to write you can write at the beach.”
    “I want to learn. I can’t learn if …”
    “No, and that’s final.”
    I can’t wait to get out of here, Susan thought, as she so often did; I can’t wait, I can’t wait.…
    Her mother smiled. “Why don’t you and I have a date on Saturday? I’ll take you for a decent haircut and then I’ll buy you a new party dress. I saw something you’d look like a doll in.”
    Your Barbie doll, Susan thought. “That would be fun,” she lied, imagining the haircut that would be too old for her, the dress