Will You Won't You Want Me?: A Novel by Nora Zelevansky Read Free Book Online Page B

gray-streaked, chin-length hair, once auburn like Marjorie’s, was tucked behind her ears. “Everyone burns everything until they learn to cook. You have to be bad to get good.”
    Just another reason to feel inept, thought Marjorie. Her mother had gone to Fairway Market, bought food, and prepared a no doubt amazing meal—no big deal. Where had Marjorie been at that time? Pulling on underwear in Mac’s doorway? Getting fired?
    She stroked Mina the Cat in silence, as her mother lifted the artichoke pot’s lid, pulled off a leaf, and handed it over. Marjorie tasted it and nodded.
    Turning off the burner, Barbara faced her in proper greeting, brushing her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “You look pale. Are you feeling okay?”
    “Um,” began Marjorie, suddenly undone by her mother’s touch. “Um, um, um.”
    Barbara’s forehead crinkled in concern, and it occurred to Marjorie that she might have caused the three jagged lines traveling faintly across her mother’s otherwise youthful face. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Did something happen?”
    Through crossed blue eyes, Mina the Cat stared her in the face too.
    “I’m okay—” Marjorie’s voice faltered. “I just didn’t have … a very good day.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, trailing off into the dry creek bed of her jaw. She wiped it away. What a disappointment she must be. “It’s nothing.”
    As if sensing a coming storm, the cat leapt off of Marjorie and scampered to the safety of the living room.
    “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
    “I’m fine.” Marjorie exhaled, a vibrato wheeze. “Only, I think I can’t breathe.”
    Barbara put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and led her to the couch. “It’s okay,” she said. “ Are you okay?”
    That’s when Marjorie’s father arrived. And, from the look on his face, he wished he’d waited a couple minutes. Chipper Plum disliked confrontation; he contributed opinions—gruffly—only on politics and TV. Years before, he’d perfected the art of zoning out when tension arose between his two favorite women, answering “ What? ” with genuine confusion when asked to take sides. Now, with his long limbs and pale skin, he stood by, evoking a birch tree. But there was no hope of escaping undetected. Instead, he adjusted his round wire-rimmed glasses and ambled to Marjorie’s unoccupied side. “What happened?”
    Marjorie took another shaky, accordion breath. She needed to offer an explanation, lest her parents imagine something catastrophic. Anything but the truth would do. “It’s the Middle East,” she tried, covering her eyes with her palm, “It’s just so messed up over there.”
    “Over where exactly?” asked her father doubtfully.
    “You know. There! Syria, Egypt, Morocco … whatever.”
    The Plums exchanged a look.
    “If it’s any consolation, sweetie, Morocco is in an unrelated part of Africa,” said her mother. “They really did a horrible job of teaching geography at that school of yours.”
    “Well, it’s everything. I mean, what’s wrong with this world? Did you know that they might cancel Parenthood ? Sometimes I just want to give up.”
    “You’re having suicidal thoughts because of a TV show?” said Barbara.
    “It’s not like it’s Cheers, ” said Chipper seriously, whose deep love of television history made the complaint more plausible.
    “Oh, forget it,” Marjorie wheezed. “I can’t even lie effectively! I got fired. That’s why I’m upset … fired, fired, fired. ”
    “Okay, sweetie. Stay calm.” Barbara pulled a travel-size Kleenex pouch from her purse and offered a tissue.
    “Mom. I’m not crying! I’m hyperventilating!”
    “Right. Remember what I learned at that seminar about anchoring yourself in the present when you feel anxiety? Look around the room and identify what’s physically here to stop the emotional spiral.”
    “Mom!”
    “Just try it!”
    As a life coach, Barbara Plum stayed abreast of current