Lana was expecting Scott back at any moment. She had her computer beside her on the couch, and the cats were nowhere to be seen. They knew something she didn\u2019t. She was testy and furtive about the computer. She yielded to temptation, and opened it. She rubbed its belly and brought it to life. Facebook was quiet, but there was a link from Lisa to a \u201cFans of Amy Tells All\u201d page. Holy batshit! That seemed crazy to her. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of pride and alarm. She clicked open a new tab, and checked her email. There was a smattering of them, but the one that mattered was from Julian Gray. One of the others also made her heart leap. It was from \u201cHarper\u2019s Magazine.\u201d She looked at that one first.<\/p>\n
\u201cDear Lana,
\nWe\u2019re emailing to ask if you are the author of a blog called \u201cAmy Tells All.\u201d If so, we\u2019d like to run your piece \u201cThe M Word,\u201d edited of course, in the upcoming (March) issue of the magazine in the \u201cReadings\u201d section.<\/p>\n
We require email confirmation giving us permission to edit and publish. We will of course share our final copy with you prior, and you have the right of refusal.<\/p>\n
Let us know your thoughts as soon as possible,
\nBest regards,
\nRalph Gleason,
\nHarper’s Magazine
\n666 Broadway, 11th Floor
\nNew York, NY 10012\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes scanned this bit of unexpected and she felt the first of many qualms regarding that blog. She was cut in half by the desire to accept, and the terror of accepting. At a certain point, she could now see, Scott was going to find out about the blog. Did she think it wouldn\u2019t matter to him? She also understood that Amy had now set foot into the wider world. Her character had taken on a life of her own. How could she not be a good mother to that which she had brought forth? Had Amy been her flesh and blood, and had she excelled at something, ballet perhaps, would she not take her to the best studio? Would she deny her the right to shine? Would she herself forgo the performances? Would she deny herself all of this because her mean-spirited, stupid husband refused?<\/p>\n
So when she opened the email from Julian, she was already upset. Her eyes read his words. She had been close to tears, but now, reading Julian and of his thinking her a man, and his reference to Granny getting run over by a reindeer, his joke about the \u2018mouse,\u2019 and his pot belly, she smiled. She followed the link to \u201cLike It Is.\u201d She read of his students\u2019 attempts to suss her out, to discover the truth of her, and to actually visit Parkersburg. She knew the Bald Eagle men. She and Scott knew every small strip. The Stephens City posse was alarmingly close. She understood, all of a sudden, how publishing in the \u201cMarietta Connection\u201d had blown her cover totally. She understood that her character Amy was stirring up a lot of dust. She understood that an actual professor of literature was over a few mountains to the east, offering a dialogue. She was confused about how to respond. It really would depend on Scott\u2019s reaction. Perhaps he could be made to permit her light to shine a little. She was uncertain about how to tackle that. If she brought it up, she ran the risk that he\u2019d shut her down. If she let him discover it, she risked\u2026 She was not sure what the risk there was, but her gut feeling was that it would not be good. She heard his car pull up. She heard him slam the trunk and the driver\u2019s side door. She was confused all over again, because she also heard the passenger side door slam. She shut the laptop and shelved it. She arranged herself on the couch and waited for him to enter, as she had been taught to do. The turmoil in her mind would have to wait.<\/p>\n
When the front door opened, Lana heard the sound of a conversation between two men. One was her husband, and the other she recognized as the voice of her husband\u2019s business partner, Bruce Sibley.
\n\t\u201c\u2026so the whole thing was useful.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh yeah, totally. He seemed more than interested in doing the deal\u2026\u201d
\n\t\u201cHey, Lana! I\u2019m home! We\u2019ve got company!\u201d
\nThe men were in the hallway, taking off their snowy boots. They continued the indecipherable conversation about the business.
\n\t\u201cGood. Very good, then. If we can get these people on board, we can almost double our volume. Can that twin be far behind, buddy-boo?\u201d<\/p>\n
Scott popped into the living room, with Bruce in tow. He gestured for Bruce to proceed on in, and for Lana to take Bruce\u2019s coat. She got up and complied.
\n\t\u201cOK, I\u2019m just going to pop upstairs and do the luggage. You two make yourselves comfortable. Lana, perhaps Bruce would like a beverage.\u201d
\n\t\u201cBruce, what\u2019s your poison?\u201d she asked.
\n\t\u201cOh, I\u2019ll have what you\u2019re having.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019m having a martini, dry,\u201d she said, with a giggle. She was really glad that Scott had brought Bruce around. She liked Bruce. She liked Scott better when he was with Bruce. The three of them had had great times aloft over the past few years. They\u2019d had some fun on the ground, too. It meant that she wouldn\u2019t have to put out for Scott right off the bat. Bruce followed her into the kitchen and watched as she mixed the drinks.
\n\t\u201cSo. What have you been up to, Lana?\u201d
\n\t\u201cShopping \u2018till I\u2019m dropping, mostly.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah. I saw your piece in the \u2018Connection.\u2019 Great piece on the bars. \u2018Denizens of the dip,\u2019 indeed. Very funny writing.\u201d
\nHe saw her eyes darting this way and that in terror.
\n\t\u201cThanks,\u201d she said quietly, lowering her eyes and handing him his drink. In the silence they could hear Scott upstairs working his post flight checklist. In a near whisper she said,
\n\t\u201cDoes he know about that?\u201d
\nHe suddenly understood that she lived in terror of her husband. This had changed from before. In the past, she\u2019d been more carefree. Scott had been, as he had with Bruce, his usual overbearing self. He could see that she\u2019d been caged. He wondered if that was all.
\n\t\u201cNo, I don\u2019t think so,\u201d he replied, also very quietly.
\n\t\u201cI don\u2019t mean to pry, but are you OK, Lana?\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah, I\u2019m OK. But I don\u2019t think he needs to know about that.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI won\u2019t tell. But he\u2019s gonna find out.\u201d
\nHe saw her helpless look, and felt a pang of fear for her. He knew that she could take the blog down, and withdraw the posts, but he also knew that once a thing was out there on the web, it couldn\u2019t be completely erased. People make copies of things they like and can repost them endlessly. He also understood that living under that burden, having to discontinue doing something that was a joy for her, was a galling limitation being arbitrarily imposed by a bully. If it didn\u2019t kill her spirit, it would surely kill the marriage. Any attempt to talk to Scott about anything having to do with his marriage or Lana had now been completely ruled out. He couldn\u2019t mention things he knew about Lana, or things he\u2019d heard, because he\u2019d just get \u201cthe look.\u201d<\/p>\n
They retreated to the living room, drinks in hand. She\u2019d gotten Scott\u2019s beer from the fridge and poured it in his frosted glass. She\u2019d grabbed a coaster and put all of that on the table next to his side of the couch. She sat at the other end, and Bruce took a seat in the chair. In the next few moments, while they sat alone together, not daring to speak, wanting to say much more, unable to change the dreadful topic on both their minds, Bruce tried to gain entry to Lana\u2019s soul by eye contact. He tried to convey, silently, that if there were anything he could do, he was willing to do it. He tried to let her know that he understood. Her eyes stared at him. She would have now begged for help. She was now quite desperate. Her heart rate was up, and she felt light-headed. She reached for her drink. Bruce saw the tremor in her hand. She put the liquid to her lips and sipped. She artificially smiled at him, and he knew she was prepping for social mode.
\n\t\u201cScott works hard\u2026\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes, Mr. Sibley, he does,\u201d said Scott, entering the room. He took his seat and grabbed his glass.
\n\t\u201cThanks, Bay-buh! You da greatest!\u201d He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
\n\t\u201cI heard you talking. I guess business is good?\u201d She said, brightly.
\n\t\u201cOh yes,\u201d said Scott. \u201cCouldn\u2019t be better.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhat have you been up to, Lil\u2019 Chickadee?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ve been hither and yon. I went down to Mahers\u2019 and looked at a butler\u2019s chest.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhat in hell is a butler\u2019s chest?\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s a big piece of furniture, usually antique, with lots of cubby holes and such.\u201d
\n\t\u201cMy, Bruce, the things you know that I don\u2019t!\u201d
\n\t\u201cI was thinking it\u2019d make a great desk,\u201d said Lana.
\n\t\u201cWhy do we need a desk?\u201d
\n\t\u201cSo that I can work on my writing projects.\u201d
\nThe moment was fraught. Lana\u2019s voice trembled.
\n\t\u201cWhat writing projects?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI was thinking about contributing to a local blog.\u201d
\n\t\u201cA blog?\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou know, a weblog,\u201d volunteered Bruce. He was shocked at the clear possibility that Scott didn\u2019t know what a blog was.
\n\t\u201cOh. You mean one of those websites where people foam at the mouth about politics.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOr anything. There\u2019s a famous blog called the \u2018Pioneer Woman.\u2019 She shares recipes and makes a fortune,\u201d offered Bruce.
\nScott stroked his chin as he considered this.
\n\t\u201cLana,\u201d he said at length, \u201cYou think you can make us a fortune sharing recipes?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI might.\u201d
\nScott laughed. It broke up the tension. Lana relaxed.
\n\t\u201cSo how much is this furniture?\u201d
\n\t\u201cAbout 3.7 thou.\u201d
\nScott laughed again, this time even harder.
\n\t\u201cBabe, you\u2019re gonna need to share a helluva lot of recipes!\u201d
\nAfter a brief spell of aviation gossip, Scott sighed.
\n\t\u201cBruce, I gotta take you home. It\u2019s getting late, and I need to hit the hay.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK, I\u2019m ready when you are.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou wanna come with me, Lana?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo, Scott. I\u2019d rather stay here and clean up.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK, then. Let\u2019s hit it.\u201d
\nThe moment they were out the door, Lana fished her laptop down and got to work on a reply to Julian:
\n\t\u201cI read with amusement your speculation on my location and situation. I\u2019m assuming the bulk of your blogging is no longer visible. From what I can tell all you\u2019ve been doing is talking about Amy. I am very flattered by all of that attention. I urge you to remember, however, that she\u2019s a character. I\u2019m me and she\u2019s she. It\u2019s not that we don\u2019t intersect, but we don\u2019t line up perfectly.
\n\tAs far as aviation and being tomboy, I might be guilty as charged. I\u2019ll tell you right up front that I\u2019m married to a flyboy. Now that you know my name, you can read all about it. I can feel you looking down at my roof, you voyeur!
\n\tYour assessment of the risk your students take by trying to locate my husband\u2019s business is correct. The woman who thinks I am in danger is incorrect.
\n\tThe truth is, I don\u2019t mind your voyeurism. I like older men. Can\u2019t help it.
\n\tThe truth is, I like the way you write.
\n\tWe do not write alike, but we like alike.
\n\tWrite me more, dear sir!
\n\tWrite to me here, or write to me in that blog, in public.
\n\tI adore the words, I await them.\u201d
\nShe sent this, closed the computer, shelved it, and grabbed for her phone.
\n\t\u201cHello, Jill?
\n\t\u201cYes?\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s Lana. Sorry to call so late, but I need you to do something for me.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSure, dear. What?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI need you to disassociate Amy from Lana on the \u2018Connections\u2019 site. Get rid of the link to \u2018Amy Tells All.\u2019 Shorten my name to just Lana Marietta. No one calls me that.\u201d
\n\t\u201cConsider it done. Are you OK? Is there some kind of trouble?\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes and no. I want Amy to be her own character, disassociated with me. I need to be less visible Google wise.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSure. I totally understand. I\u2019ll take care of it right away.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou can also take the latest piece in Amy and post it on \u2018Connections.\u2019 If you like it, that is.\u201d
\n\t\u201cGotcha. I\u2019ll have a look at it.\u201d<\/p>\n
She\u2019d take twenty-four hours to think things over re: \u201cHarper\u2019s Magazine.\u201d She now hoped like hell she\u2019d bought herself some time without giving away all of her chips. It would not do to have a famous Amy intersecting with an imperiled Lana. She knew that if she were smart, she\u2019d ditch Julian. She just couldn\u2019t. Her professor crave was too strong. He sounded too good.<\/p>\n
Then came Christmas Eve.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Lana was expecting Scott back at any moment. She had her computer beside her on the couch, and the cats were nowhere to be seen. They knew something she didn\u2019t. She was testy and furtive about the computer. She yielded to temptation, and opened it. She rubbed its belly and brought it to life. Facebook was quiet, but there was a link from Lisa to a \u201cFans of Amy Tells All\u201d page. Holy batshit! That seemed crazy to her. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of pride and alarm. She clicked open a new tab, and checked her email. There was a smattering of them, but the one that mattered was from Julian Gray. One of the others also made her heart leap. It was from \u201cHarper\u2019s Magazine.\u201d She looked at that one first. \u201cDear Lana, We\u2019re emailing to ask if you are the author of a blog called \u201cAmy Tells All.\u201d If so, we\u2019d like to run your piece \u201cThe M Word,\u201d edited of course, in the upcoming (March) issue of the magazine in the \u201cReadings\u201d section. We require email confirmation giving us permission to edit and publish. We will of course share our final copy with you…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-104","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapters","comments-off"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/104","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=104"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/104\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=104"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=104"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=104"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}