The Family Fang: A Novel by Kevin Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

finally stood up and walked over to her husband. When she arrived, Mr. Fang dropped to a knee, opened the tiny box in his hand, and displayed the ring, her own wedding ring. Their four days in the sun had caused the tan line on her finger to disappear. “Grace Truman,” their father said, “would you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” Annie was sketching a picture of onlookers throwing handfuls of peanuts into the air as a married couple walked down the aisle of a plane while she waited for her mother to answer. “Oh, Ronnie,” Mrs. Fang said, looking like she might cry, “I told you not to do this.” Their father looked uncomfortable to be kneeling for so long but he would not stand. “C’mon, honey, just say yes.” Mrs. Fang looked away but her husband raised the microphone to her face. “Just say yes into this microphone and make my dreams come true.” Annie and Buster had no idea what was going on but they both had the same sick feeling that things were about to get worse. “No, Ronnie,” Mrs. Fang said. “I will not marry you.” There were gasps from some passengers in the cabin and their mother walked back to her seat, leaving their father on his knees, still holding the ring. After a few seconds, he stuttered into the microphone, “Well, folks, I’m sorry to take up so much of your time. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” He then stood and walked back to his seat beside their mother and sat down, neither one of them looking at the other.
    The rest of the flight was so tense and uncomfortable in the cabin that a plane crash would have been welcomed to avoid the embarrassment of what had happened.
    In the car, driving home from the airport, the Fangs did not speak a single word. It had all been fake, a choreographed event, but they could not escape the dread that rattled inside their chests. It was a testament to their proficiency and talent as artists. They had affected themselves with the authenticity of the moment.
    Annie and Buster imagined a world where their parents had not married, had separated and never returned to each other, a world in which, to their horror, they did not exist. Buster rested his head in Annie’s lap as she stroked his hair. As they pulled into the long, winding driveway of their home in the woods, Mr. Fang finally pulled his wife close to him and whispered, “I love you, Grace Truman.” Their mother kissed him on the cheek and responded, “I love you, Ronnie Payne.” Annie leaned over her brother’s open face and kissed him softly on the forehead. “I love you, Nick Fury,” she said. He smiled and said, “I love you, Clara Bow.” Even after the car was parked and the ignition turned off, the Fangs sat, their seat belts still fastened, and allowed the world to turn without any help from the four of them.

Chapter Three
    S tanding next to a Whac-A-Mole game in an arcade in Los Angeles, Annie chewed on her fingernails and waited for the journalist from Esquire to arrive. He was fifteen minutes late and Annie began to hope that perhaps he wouldn’t show and she wouldn’t have to go through the awkwardness of revelation, of being interesting.
    Annie slid a quarter into the game and picked up the mallet. As the plastic rodents peeked their heads out of their holes, Annie whacked them with such vigor that when they once again popped up, unfazed, she took it personally and smashed them even harder.
    She was here, flashing lights and electronic blips and beeps, to promote the movie, Sisters, Lovers, which had premiered at Cannes and been uniformly hated. “Self-indulgent, faux-intellectual, soft-core Cinemax tripe masquerading as cinema” had been one of the nicer reviews. The movie was a bust and, though Annie had been singled out by several critics as the only honest performance in the film, there was to be little to no promotion in advance of its release. However, there were a few incidents regarding the making of the movie that had resulted