Family Dancing by David Leavitt Read Free Book Online Page A

her to a woman who was involved with holistic healing. “Meditate on your cancer,” the woman had said. “Imagine it. Visualize it inside of you. Then, imagine it’s getting very cold. Imagine the tumors freezing, dying from freezing. Then a wind chips at them until they disappear.”
    “Oh,” Mrs. Harrington said, overcome again. “Oh.”
    “Mom, what’s wrong?” Roy asked her. In the dark car, concern seemed to light up his face. She could only look at him for a second because the road was curving up to meet her stare.
    “Nothing,” she said. “I’m sorry. Just a little pensive tonight, that’s all.”
    But in her mind she could see Dr. Sanchez’s hairy hands.
     
    The party was already in full swing when they arrived. All over the Lauranses’ carpeted living room the clink of drinks sounded, a slow, steady murmur of conversation. Ernest held Mrs. Harrington’s hand.
    She lost Jennifer and Roy instantly, lost them to the crowd, to their friends. Suddenly. They were on their own, moving in among the guests, who said hello, asked them what their plans were. They smiled. They were good kids, eager to find their friends.
    “Hey, Harrington!” she heard a gravelly adolescent voice call, and Roy was gone. Jennifer lost as well, to the collegiate generation—a boy just back from Princeton.
    Mrs. Harrington’s friends the Lewistons were the first to greet her. Mr. Lewiston had taught in the law school with Mrs. Harrington’s ex-husband, and they had remained friends.
    “How are you feeling, Anna?”
    “How’re the kids?”
    “You know, anything we can do to help.”
    She motioned toward Ernest with her eyes, don’t talk about it. Ernest, who had not been listening, asked, “Where’s Timmy?”
    “Timmy and Kevin and Danielle are in the family room playing,” Mrs. Lewiston said. “Would you like to join them?”
    “Kevin!” Ernest turned to his mother, his eyes and mouth breaking. There was a red sore on his chin from drool. He started to cry.
    “Ernie, baby, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Harrington said, picking him up, hugging him fiercely.
    “I don’t like Kevin,” Ernest sobbed. “He’s mean to me.”
    Kevin was the Lewistons’ son. As a baby, he had been on commercials.
    And the Lewistons looked at Mrs. Harrington in vague horror.
    “When was he mean to you?” Mrs. Harrington asked.
    “The other day on the bus. He threw—um, he threw—he took my lunch and he threw it at me and it got broken. My thermos.”
    Mrs. Harrington looked at the Lewistons, for a brief moment accusingly, but she quickly changed her look to one of bewilderment.
    “He did come home the other day with his thermos broken. Ernest, you told me you dropped it.”
    “Kevin told me not to tell. He—he said he’d beat me up.”
    “Look, Anna, how can you—how can you think . . .” Mrs. Lewiston couldn’t complete her sentence. “I’ll get Kevin,” she said. “Your son’s accused him of something he’d never do.”
    She ran off toward the family room.
    “Anna, are you sure Ernest’s not making all this up?” Mr. Lewiston asked.
    “Are you accusing him of lying?” Mrs. Harrington said.
    “Look, we’re adults. Let’s keep cool. I’m sure there’s an explanation to all of this.” Mr. Lewiston took out a handkerchief and swatted at his face.
    Ernest was still crying when Mrs. Lewiston came back, dragging Kevin by the arm.
    Ernest wailed. Mrs. Laurans, the hostess, came over to find out what was causing such a commotion. She ushered the families into the master bedroom to have it out.
    “Kevin,” Mr. Lewiston said, seating his son on top of forty or fifty coats piled on the bed, “Ernest has accused you of doing something very bad—of taking his lunch and hitting him with it. Is this true? Don’t lie to me.”
    “Bill, how can you talk to him that way?” Mrs. Lewiston cried. “You’re never that way with him.”
    Kevin, a handsome, well-dressed child, began to cry. The adults stood among their