amazingâhorribleâthing heâd ever seenâthe poor man just kept walkingâtrying to walkâwith both his hands he tried to stop the bleedingâGerald shouted out his car windowâthere was more than one of themâthe attackersâGerald never likes to identify them as blackâpersons of colorâ and the victim was a white manâI donât think the attackers were ever caughtâGerald opened his car door, and shouted at themâhe was risking his life interferingâheâs utterly reckless, he has the most amazing courageâthe way Gerald describes it, itâs like I was there with himâI was in middle school at Katonah Day at the timeâjust totally unknowing, obliviousâI dream of it sometimesâthe stabbingâhow close Gerald and I came to never meeting, never falling in love and our entire lives changed like a tragic miracleâ¦
Youâd have thought that Mr. Karr would try to stop his silly young wife saying such things that werenât wrong entirelyâbut certainly werenât rightâand Rhonda knew they werenât rightâand Rhonda was a witness staring coldly at the chattering woman who was technically speaking her stepmother but Mr. Karr seemed scarcely to be listeningin another part of the room pouring wine into long-stemmed crystal glasses for his guests and drinking with them savoring the precious red burgundy which appeared to be the center of interest on this occasion for Mr. Karr had been showing his guests the label on the wine bottle which must have been an impressive label judging from their reactions as the wine itself must have been exquisite for all marveled at it. Rhonda saw that her fatherâs whiskers were bristly gray like metal filings, his face was ruddy and puffy about the eyes as if heâd just wakened from a napâwhen âentertainingâ in his home often Mr. Karr removed his glasses, as he had nowâhis stone-colored eyes looked strangely naked and lashlessâstill he exuded an air of well-being, a yeasty heat of satisfaction lifted from his skin. There on a nearby table was Gerald Karrâs new book Democracy in America Imperiled and beside the book as if it had been casually tossed down was a copy of The New York Review of Books in which there was said to beâRhonda had not seen itâa âhighly positiveâ review of the book. And there, in another corner of the room, the beautiful blond silly young wife exclaiming with widened eyes to a circle of rapt listeners Ohhh when I think of it my blood runs cold, how foolishly brave Gerald wasâhow close it was, the two of us would never meet and where would I be right now? This very moment, in all of the universe?
Rhonda laughed. Rhondaâs mouth was a sneer. Rhonda knew better than to draw attention to herself, howeverâthough Daddy loved his sweet little pretty girl Daddy could be harsh and hurtful if Daddy was displeased with his sweet little pretty girl so Rhonda fixed for herself a very thick sandwich of Swedish rye crisp crackers and French goat cheese to devour in the corner of the room looking out onto a bleak rain-streaked street not wanting to think how Daddy knew, yes Daddy knew but did not care. That was the terrible fact about Daddyâhe knew, and did not care. A nasty fat worm had burrowed up inside Daddy making him proud of silly Brooke speaking of him in such a tender voice, and so falsely; the stepmother who was so much younger and more beautiful than Rhondaâs mother.
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Here was the strangest thing: when Rhonda was living away from them all, and vastly relieved to be away, but homesick too especially for the drafty old house on Broadmead Road where sheâd been a little girl and Mommy and Daddy had loved her so. When Rhonda was a freshman at Stanford hoping to major in molecular biology and sheâd returned home for the first time since leaving homeâfor