She used this word- stability-so often that Janet couldn’t help wondering what it really meant. Sasha didn’t not want an interesting life, but first she wanted a stable life.
There were lots of interesting things to do with a law degree. “The game is at eight,” he said, lowering his weapon. A middle-aged man standing in front of the display of remotes lifted one of them and pointed it straight at the girl’s chest, closing one eye as if taking careful aim.
#TRUE AUTUMN VS DARK AUTUMN ORANGE FULL#
Janet followed the teen-ager down an aisle full of plastic devices in plastic packages.
#TRUE AUTUMN VS DARK AUTUMN ORANGE MOVIE#
Privately, Janet had hoped that Sasha might be swept up in a cause-she’d seen a movie about a small-town lawyer battling an evil power plant-but something in her had proved not sweepable. This wasn’t a passion, which she said wasn’t the point: what she wanted was a purpose. A blessing and a curse, Janet thought, but never said out loud. The girl smiled, and it was a pretty smile. “You’re right,” she said to the girl, forgiving her. Or had she only thought about telling her? Janet was always thinking of good advice too late. “This is really old.” She glanced nervously at Janet. Janet approached one of them, an acned girl with hair dyed orange, and showed her the remote. Why was it a bad thing to have an attitude? Besides, kids were good with electronics. Janet liked teen-agers, partly because most people didn’t. Inside, all the employees were teen-agers. She pressed the button again and again, until several shoppers glared at her and the sound was just a sound again. She thought it sounded sad, which was a ridiculous thing to think. Was it going to be O.K.?Īt the entrance of the store, she turned around and beeped the car once more, just to be sure. She hurried diagonally across the lot, crossing one line after another. She should at least have said something like It’ll be O.K. When Janet hung up, it occurred to her that she should have offered some reassurance. Podcast: The Writer’s Voice Listen to Clare Sestanovich read “You Tell Me.”ĭanny didn’t say, About what? As usual, he was patient and kind. When Danny finished speaking, Janet nodded for a while, long enough that he asked if she was still there. The bad news was that fear-her boss, her deadlines, the phone that she kept under the pillow, buzzing with middle-of-the-night emergencies-was the one thing that got her out of bed.
The good news was that, on most days, she still went to work. She was rarely hungry, unless, in a burst of energy, she baked an elaborate cake. Sasha couldn’t sleep, or else she slept all day. Like Sasha, Danny was the kind of person who trusted textbooks. The symptoms, Danny was explaining, were textbook: excessive crying, loss of appetite, feelings of hopelessness. It wasn’t clear whether he had reached the age at which you could say, He lived a full life. He hadn’t been old, but he hadn’t been young, either. Janet herself had not been anyone’s wife for almost a decade, since Sasha’s father died. Danny and Sasha had been married for less than a year, and Janet, who had no objection to their union in particular, was not yet used to the idea in the abstract: her child was someone’s wife.
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