The Dinner Party by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online Page B

restaurant stove, its small microwave subsidiary, its enormous refrigerator, its island work counter bearing eight-slice toaster, Cuisinart, Kitchenaid dough hook and two blenders, she remembered, for some reason, a story she had read as a child. In this story, a king had invited one of his powerful noblemen to dinner. It was a very elegant dinner, and course after course was served; but as the dinner progressed, the nobleman realized that no bread was being served, and he also realized that when the dinner was over, he would be killed. Thus the absence of bread on the table, since if one breaks bread with a guest, one cannot do him harm. The story had chilled her blood when she first read it, and now the memory of it sent a chill through her and caused Ellen to ask, “Are you all right?”
    Dolly managed to smile. “Of course. I was thinking about bread.”
    â€œNo trouble,” Mac said. “I picked up half a dozen french breads day before yesterday. Four of them still in the freezer.” But the thought of death, not bread, had chilled her.

EIGHT
    I think we ought to go to someplace quiet, where we can meditate,” Jones said.
    â€œAnd what will that do for us?” Elizabeth demanded.
    â€œIt helps.”
    â€œIt helps,” Leonard repeated. “Nothing else helps.”
    â€œI don’t know how to meditate,” Elizabeth said, her eyes full of tears.
    â€œIt’s easy, Liz.”
    They went to the old barn. The senator’s place was five acres, and the old barn was hidden from the house by a roll of the land. The house that had once been its companion had burned down long ago, leaving only its fieldstone chimney, covered over with honeysuckle and poison ivy. The glade where the barn stood was reached by a narrow dirt road that wound through high, sweet-smelling grass, netted over with insects and birds, all of it succulent in the morning warmth. Once, when Elizabeth was eleven, her mother yielded to her pleading and allowed her grandfather, Augustus Levi, to buy her a horse. At that point, the old barn was hardly more than a pile of barely joined boards, but the senator had it rebuilt for the beautiful little filly that took up residence there—at least for the summer months. In the winter, it was boarded elsewhere. Leonard had never been interested in horses, and by age fourteen, Elizabeth had passed through her horse phase. The horse was sold and the barn abandoned.
    They had changed into jeans and cotton shirts, all three of them dressed alike without thought or choice. “We’ll sit cross-legged,” Clarence said. There was an old decaying English saddle in one corner of the barn. “You can use that, Liz, if you have to.”
    â€œI can sit cross-legged,” she said. “I’ve been doing it since age two.”
    Leonard had fallen into position, legs crossed, hands loosely clasped in his lap. They formed a triangle, the three of them, each at a corner.
    â€œI pick a spot in the center for my sight,” Clarence said. “I keep my eyes open.”
    There was a pungent, lonesome barn smell to the place, full of memories and the nostalgia of time and the pain of time. Why had Leonard picked this place? She thought of getting up and telling them that it was no good and that they must go elsewhere, but instead she asked Leonard, “Are you going to tell Mother and Dad?”
    â€œI have to, sometime.”
    â€œBetter if we don’t speak. I’ll speak a little—just to help Elizabeth,” Clarence said.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œWipe your tears, Liz. It’s this moment—only this moment. Nothing is happening now. Don’t think about anything at all. I’ll count my breaths. Ten.”
    She counted her breaths, one to ten.
    â€œAnd now I stop counting,” Clarence said, “but I watch my breathing. I watch it rise and fall, and at the same time, I make myself aware of my body. I sense toes, feet,