Family Dancing by David Leavitt Read Free Book Online Page B

sobbing children.
    “Oh dear,” Mrs. Harrington said. Then she laughed just a little.
    Mrs. Lewiston took her lead, and laughed, too. The tension broke.
    But Mr. Lewiston, overcome by guilt for treating his son badly, was holding Kevin, and begging his forgiveness.
    Mrs. Harrington knew what that was like. She also knew that Ernest had lied before. She led him over to the corner.
    “Did you make that story up, Ernest?” she asked him.
    “No.”
    “Tell the truth.”
    “I didn’t,” Ernest said.
    “Kevin says you did,” Mrs. Harrington said with infinite gentleness.
    “He’s lying.”
    “You can’t pretend with me, young man.” Her voice grew stern. “Look, I want the truth.”
    Sternly, she lifted up his chin so that his eyes met hers; she was on her knees. For a moment, he looked as if he might once again break out in full-fledged sobs. But Ernest changed his mind.
    “All right,” he said. “He didn’t throw it at me. But he took it.”
    “I gave it back!” Kevin yelled. “I threw it to you, and you dropped it and the thermos broke!”
    “Ah!” all the parents said at once.
    “Two parties misinterpret the same incident. Happens all the time in the courts. I teach about it in my class,” Mr. Lewiston said. Everyone laughed.
    “Now, Mrs. Harrington, I think both these young men owe each other an apology, don’t you? Kevin for taking Ernest’s lunch, and Ernest for saying he threw it at him.”
    “Boys,” Mrs. Harrington said, “will you shake hands and make up?”
    The children eyed each other suspiciously.
    “Come on,” Mr. Lewiston said to Kevin. “Be a good cowboy, pardner.”
    Kevin, like a good cowboy, reached out a swaggering arm. Sheepishly, Ernest accepted it. They shook.
    “All right, all right,” Mrs. Lewiston said. “Now why don’t you two go play with Timmy and Danielle?”
    “O.K.,” Kevin said. The two ran off.
    “And we’ll all get a drink,” Mr. Lewiston said.
     
    The adults emerged from the bedroom and made their way through the crowd. All of them were relieved not to have to face the possibility that one of their children had done something consciously malicious. But Mrs. Harrington had to admit that, of the two, Ernest had come off the more childish, the less spirited. Kevin Lewiston was energetic, attractive. He had spirit—took lunch boxes but gave them back, would go far in life. Ernest cried all the time, made more enemies than friends, kept grudges.
    Small children, dressed in their best, darted between and among adult legs. Mrs. Harrington, separated from the Lewistons by a dashing three-year-old girl, found herself in front of a half-empty bowl of chopped liver.
    A trio of women whose names she didn’t remember greeted her, but they didn’t remember her name either, so it was all right. They were talking about their children. One turned out to be the mother of the boy from Princeton. “Charlie spent the past summer working in a senator’s office,” she told the other women, who were impressed.
    “What’s your daughter doing next summer?” the woman asked Mrs. Harrington.
    “Oh, probably doing what she did last summer, working at Kentucky Fried Chicken.” Or, perhaps, living in another town.
    The ladies made noises of approval. Then, looking over their heads to the crowd to see if her children were within earshot, Mrs. Harrington saw someone she had no desire to talk to.
    “Excuse me,” she hurriedly told the women. But it was too late.
    “Anna!”
    Joan Lensky had seen her; now she was done for. Her black hair tied tightly behind her head, dressed (as always) in black, Joan Lensky was coming to greet her.
    “Anna, darling,” she said, grasping Mrs. Harrington’s hand between sharp fingers, “I’m so glad to see you could come out.”
    “Yes, well, I’m feeling quite well, Joan,” Mrs. Harrington said.
    “It’s been so long. Are you really well? Let’s chat. There’s a room over there we can go to and talk