No one was upset about it except for me. Dad came back from his trip out west and, as usual, went to sleep. Mom tended the garden, cooked a little, read, and wrote in her notebook, which was no longer behind the buffet drawer, but had been moved elsewhere. As usual, Aunt Ida did more stupid things, all of them related to Marvin or what was left of Marvin - photography. On Saturday morning we dragged her out of the bathroom, where she'd drowned a bunch of negatives she'd found in the tub, and on Sunday we spent an hour convincing her not to take the bus into the city to buy film and printing paper. In the afternoon some friends called me and invited me to a softball game. I declined the invitation. A few minutes later I regretted it. An argument between Mom and Dad that had begun in a series of terse whispers escalated to the slamming of the bedroom door, where Mom isolated herself, fuming. Dad fell asleep on the couch in the living room, the newspaper over his face.
What do You think about The Last Of The Wise Lovers?
