lost son by june stephenson reading sample

8/6/2019 Lost Son by June Stephenson Reading Sample

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As with most of the nation recuperating after World War II, spendingin Emeryville, California was almost unlimited. New businesses roseto meet the pent-up demand for goods which had not been availablefor more than four years. In Emeryville, across the bay from SanFrancisco, businesses such as Sherman-Williams Paints, Judson IronWorks, and Pabco Linoleum bought inexpensive land with a readydisposal in the San Francisco Bay for their refuse. Their waste wasmixed with the mudflats saturation of effluence from previous meat

packing plants, which had also dumped stripped animal carcasses intothe bay. Also raw sewage from Berkeley, and Oakland was pipeddown into the bay at Emeryvilles muddy feet before there were laws

prohibiting pollution. Toxins not only killed oyster fields and clamsthat had provided the small population with a reliable livelihood, butalso contributed to the noxious smell so pungent that most motoristsdriving on Eastshore Highway held their noses as they drove pastEmeryville.

As a child growing up in Emeryville, Margaret, like most of theresidents, tolerated the smell, often not noticing it. Or they traded itfor inexpensive housing, good schools supported by a high tax basefrom new industries, easy access to Bay Area jobs, and the BayBridge on-ramp to San Francisco.

In spite of the odor, Emeryvilles citizens were proud of the tax base that provided by their new industries. They were especially proud of their champion high school football team and their hugelighted stadium.

Ed Anderson, Margarets father was born in Berkeley GeneralHospital to parents who had settled in Emeryville in 1920. He marriedwhen he was twenty to a sister of one of his co-workers, and together they raised three children in one of the small housing developments.


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His elder daughter Elizabeth married when she was eighteen, movedto Vallejo fifteen miles north, and like her parents, also had threechildren. Eds son Stanley immediately went to work for Judson IronWorks as soon as he graduated from high school. His younger daughter Margaret prepared herself through high school to attend theUniversity of California, four miles way. Though she had been on thehonor roll all through her school years, she could not earn a passinggrade in geometry and was denied admittance to the university, aheartbreaking experience for her.

There were no local junior colleges in the area at that time whereMargaret could make up her math deficiency. And because of her fathers limited factory salary, there was no dormitory money for schools away from her home. After Margaret had exhausted allavenues to a college education, she resigned herself to a sales job atSears. Determined to continue her desire to be a writer, she set a strictschedule for herself, selling at Sears in the daytime, and writing her short stories after work.

Margaret lived at home, paying her parents twenty of her sixtydollars a month for room and board. Though attractive and friendly,she spent most of her free time reading and she avoided opportunitiesto date. A devastating experience with a popular boy in her last year of high school, had turned Margaret inward. She had been foolishlyflattered by the attention of the high school Romeo, Roy Carlson. Shewas astonished that he seemed smitten with her, but unaccustomed to

praise of any kind, she eventually succumbed to his sexual pleadings,mistaking them for love.

Be careful Margaret, her older sister Elizabeth warned her. RoyCarlson has a reputation. Love em and leave m.

He loves me. I know he does.

Elizabeth was right. Margaret in the throes of her first love, gaveherself completely to Roys experienced lovemaking. It was the mostmagical, though at times painful, night of her life. She would forever love Roy and he would forever love her. That is what he told her as


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he undressed her. But the next day at school he didnt even look ather when they passed in the school hall. Maybe he hadnt seen her. Inthe English class they attended together, Margaret made a point tostand by his desk when he came into the room. He purposefullyavoided her as he talked with animation to several girls waiting for class to begin. This time Margaret was sure he had seen her.

Her heart sank as she realized Elizabeth was right. Everyone inhigh school must know she had become one more of Roys conquests.He had flaunted her like a trophy he had won before he dropped her completely. Her fathers suspicions were justified when his wife toldhim why Margaret spent so much time in her room, crying.

Lets hope to God he didnt get her pregnant. Ill kill that Son of aBitch.

Shes not pregnant, his wife assured him.

Now who the hell is going to marry her? Who doesnt know aboutthis? Roy and his dad are both braggarts.

After high school graduation and for several years Margaretsfather found having a single daughter at home was an embarrassment,and he did not like his wifes defending their daughter.

I wish youd stop nagging her, Ed, his wife would say. Margaretis not Elizabeth. Margaret will do all right.

Shes twenty-five, Evan reminded his wife. She gonna live withus the rest of her life? Its not normal.

His wife would drop the discussion.

Though Margaret appeared unconcerned about her marital status,she often wondered if her life at Sears, selling sheets and frying panswould be her life-long fate. Also her dreams of being a writer beganto fade. After a day of walking around on Sears concrete floors in thehouseware department, Margaret was too tired to be creative. Sheused up her persuasive energy to encourage customers purchases, asher sales commission depended on her sales volume.


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She had seen her high school girlfriends, one by one married atseventeen or eighteen. During the war she said her goodbyes whenthey left for various military camps to be near their husbands before

being shipped overseas. Margaret sensed she was being left behind.

She consoled herself by enjoying her few girlfriends at Sears,where they talked of books they shared, or discussed movies they hadseen together.

Though she had given up on her writing, in the evenings for something to do she sometimes sat in on the poker games with her

brother Stanley. One of his friends, Andy Marshall, a boy she hadheard about when he was one of Emeryville High Schools bestfootball players often joined them. Though he was a few grades aheadof Margaret, she knew of him because football stars were important inEmeryille. In the Bay Area Football League, Emeryvilles team wasconsidered tough to beat. It was an especial victory for Emeryvillewhen their High School won a game against Berkeley High.

Though Margaret knew Andy as a football star, she otherwisethought of him as rather dull. At poker games she noticed that all hedid was make his bet, pay up, or collect chips, drink a couple of the

bottles of beer he had brought for everyone, and then politely saygoodnight. He had no conversation to offer.

One night at the end of the game while her brother was putting thechips away, Margaret went out on their front porch and sat down,oblivious as always to the odor surrounding her. Andy stepped out onto the porch and stood awkwardly, seemingly not wanting to leave.She saw that he was embarrassed, and surprisingly had something tosay. To make him feel comfortable, she invited him to sit in one of the porch chairs.

Thank you, he said, rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants.

Did you win any money tonight? she asked, knowing he had.

Margaret, he said, ignoring her question, and speaking slowly,word for word, his hands in continual motion, Would you marry


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me? Then into the silence, in a rush of words, he continued. I makegood money at P.G.& E. I would buy us one of those houses onSecond Street. I have enough money so you could furnish it the wayyou want. Ive been saving my money living at home.

Andy didnt look at Margaret. He just kept his hands moving on hisknees.

Margaret was stunned. Words wouldnt come. They both sat, silent.Andy, mortified by what he had done, and not getting a reply,assumed there would be none. He got up from his chair and took acouple of steps to the stairs as though trying to escape.

Wait, Margaret said. Let me think about this. We dont really

know each other.Margaret, Andy said, sounding her name carefully, when I have

been coming to your house, mostly I came to see you. I didnt careabout the poker game.

It was awkward for them both, but in the days ahead they saw eachother somewhat frequently. Margaret opened herself up to seequalities in Andy she could appreciate. He was a man she coulddepend on, but mostly she saw a man who loved her, something shehad not known before.

They managed to get through a short engagement period beforetheir quiet wedding two months later. Margarets mother and father were delighted about the marriage. They knew their daughter was notin love with Andy, but as her father said, Hes got a good steady job.Hell get her nose out of all those books.

Her mother was happy that Margaret would be living, right here inEmeryville where youve lived all your life. No flitting off to all thoseother states where your girlfriends went when they married thosearmy boys. You see them coming home now. Some without husbandswho got killed overseas, or husbands without legs, or who are blind.Youre safe here and nearby.

Margaret had not wanted to be safe. And she especially did not


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want to live in Emeryville with its foul smell. But Andy had bought ahouse two blocks from Margarets mothers home, and opened anaccount at Breuners Furniture Store in Berkeley, telling her shecould buy anything up to a total of three thousand dollars to furnishtheir home. He had invested his total life savings in their marriageand Margaret in exchange was determined to be the good wife hedeserved in return.

Through the first years of their marriage, she saw Andy as an idealhusband. He worked hard every day, turned over his monthly

paycheck to her, never looked at another woman, didnt drink. Headored their only child, Raymond, born on their first anniversary.From the time he was about two years old, every night Raymond ranto greet his father when he came home from work, bounding out their screen door to be lifted into Andys arms.

Just as her mother had done for her father, Margaret had dinner waiting for Andy on the table at five thirty every night. When theyate, they exchanged few words. Raymond alternated between banginghis spoon on his high chair tray, and eating mouthfuls offered by hisfather. Margaret cleared the table while three-year-old Raymondattempted to help. Andy and Margaret shared the dishwashing anddrying as Raymond played with his toys in their small living room.

Continuing the nightly ritual, after the dishes were dried and putinto their cupboards, Andy leaned back in his overstuffed chair tolook at the evening newspaper, usually falling asleep before hereached the third page. The water running in the tub for Raymonds

bath woke him from his after-dinner nap. Then he would joyfully bathe his son while Margaret relaxed in her easy-chair, finding her place in one of the many books sitting by her table.

From the living room, Margaret could hear the laughing andsplashing in the bathroom. She could picture Andy wrapping hissmall son in the bath towel, tossling his wet hair and getting him intohis sleeper-feet pajamas. Together they put their son to bed, kissedand snuggled him, turned off the light in his room, and went to their


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newspaper, and never read a book or magazine. He listened to weeklyradio programs such as Fibber Magee and Molly , and on TV watchedThe Ed Sullivan Show. On weekends he listened to football games allday Saturday and Sunday.

There was a time she thought she could love her husband. He was agood man and he was reliable. If he said hed do something, he did it.He was not handsome, but he was not ugly. To Margaret he seemedto be all angles, and he walked as though his shoes were too big for him, though she knew they were not. When he combed his hair italways looked too slick for the rest of his appearance.

During the first months of their marriage, Margaret was busyfurnishing their home, and then getting ready for her baby. She madefrequent visits to the public library, bringing back enough books tolast a week or so. She knew after her babys delivery it would bedifficult to leave the house to get books, so she jammed as muchreading into her days as she could.

When Raymond was born, Andy could not contain his excitement.It was as though the birth of his son gave value to his life. He not onlyhad a child, but he had a son. He was pleased that Margaret decidednot to nurse her baby because he could then give Raymond his bottle,holding him firmly in his arms, first testing the warmth of the milk onhis wrist.

Margarets parents and Andy delighted in watching Raymondchange from an infant to a toddler, taking his first steps, cutting hisfirst teeth, crawling, and speaking his first words. Not that Margaretdidnt also love to see Raymonds progress, but it was just that yearsof child caring responsibility weighed heavily on her. She knew itwas not motherly to feel the way she did, so she tried to change her feelings, checking out child-growth books from the library, andstudying things she needed to do for Raymond. She especially took toheart the suggestion from one child expert who wrote, Even a veryyoung child needs reassurance that he is loved. He should never befed and then abruptly put back in his crib. There are two kinds of


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nourishment a small child needs: food and love. When feeding time isover, hold your child in your arms and talk to him in soothing tones.

There was no question she loved Raymond. When he put his smallarms around her neck she sensed a mixture of rapture and guilt. Shewould always resolve to show him more affection, but when shenuzzled him and made baby sounds she was forcing it, it didnt feelnatural.

Nevertheless, their small family settled into a smooth routine.When Raymond was three years old, every morning after Andy leftfor work, Margaret took the curlers out of her hair, put on whatever her arms reached for in the closet, got Raymond out of his diaper thathe may or may not have wet during the night, dressed him, fed him,made her bed, did the breakfast dishes, put Raymond in his stroller and wheeled him to the playground two blocks away. Too small to

play by himself, he relied on Margaret to help him up the stairs to thetop of the slide and wait for him at the bottom. She pushed him in theswing interminably. Knowing it was good for Raymond to be in the

park, when the weather was good, she stayed there with him for over two hours.

On rainy days when they couldnt go to the park, Margaret walkedRaymond to the new Emeryville public library where they selected

picture-books for toddlers. Sometimes when it rained too hard to evenventure out doors, Margaret cut figures out of magazines and made upstories with the cut-out people that Raymond played with. She longedfor the days when he wouldnt need her as a playmate. Then shecould read, and she could write the stories shed been making up for Raymond.

Andys days began differently than Margarets. So as not to wakeher with a noisy alarm clock, he replaced that with a shake-awakealarm he put under his pillow. He maneuvered himself out of bed,

barely disturbing the covers, gathered his clothes set up the night before, with clean socks and clean underwear, and dressed in the bathroom. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal, drank a cup of freshly


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perked coffee Margaret had prepared the night before. He put hissandwich, apple, and piece of cake in his metal lunch box, peeked inon his sleeping son and smiled. Then he crept down the back stairsand out onto the street, starting his 1953 Chevy coupe that he drovethe fifteen miles to the Pacific Gas and Electric Company CentralPlant in Oakland where he picked up his work schedule for the day.

He greeted and was greeted by fellow workers as they weredisbursed to their various sections of town, driving singly or in pairsin the brown Pacific Gas and Electric Company pick-up trucks. Andywould not think of anything except his work until he arrived back home in the evening, heard the screen door bang open, and saw hislittle laughing son rushing toward him. It was the sweetest moment of the day.

Occasionally Margaret would greet Andy with news of a break intheir routine Were having barbecue at Sanders tonight. As soon asyou clean up we can go. Andy didnt tell her hed rather stay home.

Neighborhood barbecues were all the same to Andy. It didnt seemto matter whose backyard the charcoal smoke came from. It was thesame neighborhood people, the three or four cans of beer per man, thesame, How do you want your steak?

He actually liked barbecues better when they were held in his backyard because he didnt have to walk around and mix with hisneighbors. He could just stand at the grill and watch the steaks get

brown and then take the orders. The man at the grill was the mostimportant man at the barbecue, and his job was the easiest. Margaretwould have prepared salad and warmed up packaged French fries.Together they later served ice cream and cookies and basked in thethank yous as it got dark and the neighbors left.

At Sanders, where neighbors teenage daughters shepherdedtoddlers and other youngsters to the backyard play equipment, Andycould hear Raymonds squeals of happiness as his son played withother children. After about an hour of beer drinking andneighborhood conviviality, everyone was seated on benches at the


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picnic table, children wedged in between parents. Raymond climbedup into Andys lap, nestled in the crook of one elbow, and sucked histhumb in total contentment.

Hes sleepy, Margaret said.

Ill take him home. Ill eat this and then take him home. Youstay.

No. Margaret said. Lets stay. Hes okay.

After about a half hour with Raymond sound sleep, Andy suggestedagain that he leave. Margaret, laughing at the mans joke across fromher, indicated that Andy should stay.

Well leave in a minute, she told him.

Andy would wait, though he was weary of forcing laughter to seem jovial, which he knew Margaret wanted him to be.

Eventually when the barbecue party began to leave, Andy carriedthe sleeping Raymond to their home a few doors away, Margaretwalking by his side.

When they were undressing for bed Andy began thinking of thehappy noises the children made in the playground area at the

barbecue. He ventured, Its not good for Raymond to be an onlychild.

Margaret straightened herself and said, Weve had thisconversation before, Andy. I dont want another child. She slippedher nightgown over her head, her back to Andy.

Andy watched all her movements wanting to embrace her, butknowing she would resist. He watched her slide in between thesheets, facing the wall. He sat down in the bedroom chair andwondered why he was there. Obviously Margaret was not happy withhim. He thought at times he would do her a favor and leave, but heloved her. She had been smart in school and he was so average. Shewas so much more than he was. He couldnt leave her. He would benothing without her, and heart-broken without Raymond.


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The day after that barbecue, Margaret woke up to the sound of lightrain on her window and immediately felt gloomy. There would be no

playground today. After breakfast she bundled Raymond in his sheep-skin lined jacket, put on his goulashes and waterproof hat, put her raincoat over her sweater and skirt, stretched rubber protectors over her shoes, picked up the umbrella and locked the front door as theyleft the house.

She walked as fast as Raymond could go. When they stopped at oneof the street lights, they both got splattered by passing cars. Raymondstarted to cry but there wasnt time for consoling because the walksign came on and they had to practically run across the wide streetwhich was awkward for Margaret, holding Raymond with one handand the umbrella with the other.

The librarian who had become, as they said, her rainy-day friend,always welcomed them cheerfully. While Raymond was looking athis picture books, she and the librarian exchanged comments aboutvarious books Margaret had read or was checking out. The librarianwould save newly published books she thought Margaret would enjoy

before she catalogued them and put them on the shelves. She watchedMargaret and Raymond walk into the Childrens Room and one byone, select large picture books. Then, arms loaded, they went to theshort table with child-sized chairs, piling all the books in front of Raymond.

You stay here, honey. Ill be right back. Im going to get a book.

Raymond held a book toward her. Heres a book, Mommie.

No. I mean a Mommie book. Like I usually do. You look at your books. Ill bring a book back here and read mine. Ill come right back.

Okay?If she didnt get an okay, from Raymond, he might start a noisy

protest.

Okay, he muttered.

In the library stacks she took a Somerset Maugham book back to


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the Childrens Room and sat in one of the small chairs next toRaymond. She had read The Moon and Sixpence in high school, butshe would enjoy it again. She remembered the first part clearly whereGauguin left England, quitting his job, abandoning his wife andchildren, and going to Paris to paint, without any money or a place tostay. When she read it before, she did not understand how he coulddesert his family. She kept thinking about his wife and children back in Paris while he became a painter in Tahiti. As she read that book

back in high school she kept hoping Gauguin would have a change of heart and go back to his family. How could anyone need to paint so

badly hed leave his children?

She wanted to read more sitting in the library, but Raymondsinterruptions were persistent enough for her to put her book on the

pile of books to carry home, deciding to read more later, maybe after Raymond was in bed.

When Andy came home from work and told her they would begoing out to dinner the next night, she was surprised and confused.

It will be your birthday, he explained.

I know, but we dont usually do anything.

This time we will. I talked to Henry at work today.Yes?

He said there was a restaurant near where he lives in Berkeley thatis good.

Is it expensive? Places in Berkeley are expensive.

I dont think so. I have money. Ive been saving.

Margaret wondered how he could save any money. He gave her hismonthly one hundred fifty dollar pay check which she used to pay

bills and buy groceries, after she gave him twenty-five dollars cashfor personal expenses. She didnt know how he spent his money sincehe used their Standard Oil credit card for gas and then she paid the

bill when it came in the mail.


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On their dinner-out, leaving Raymond with Margarets parents,they enjoyed raviolis, even with red wine, and later Spimoni icecream. Andy pleased with himself, told her he had a birthday presentfor her which would be delivered the next day.

A present to be delivered? That was another surprise.

Yes. Its a surprise. Way too big for me to carry, he laughed.

Margaret wondered, puzzled. To be delivered? Too big? Could it bea car? Some of their neighbors had two cars. What freedom thosewives had. She could picture herself driving alone. She smiled therest of the evening and leaned against Andy as he drove them home,giving in to her fantasy of having her own car..

In bed Margaret permitted an embrace and even sex. Though shehad gone to bed happy and maybe a bit tipsy not being used todrinking wine, she soon stiffened and was repulsed at Andysclumsiness, though she pretended enjoyment, not wanting to hurt hisfeelings.

The next day when she and Raymond came home from the playground, a delivery truck drove to the front of their house.

Mrs. Marshall? the young driver asked.

Yes, she answered, confused.

He put his clipboard away, opened the back of his truck, loweredthe trucks step and wheeled out a huge cardboard container. Smilinghe said, Heres your new General Electric dryer.

Margaret looked to the ground not wanting the young man to seeher shocking disappointment. So this was her car? This was why shewas happy last night? How silly of me, she thought.

Wheeling the cardboard hulk, and still smiling, the delivery boyasked her where she wanted it. On the porch next to the washingmachine I guess.

It says here Mr. Marshall will connect it.

When the carton was emptied Raymond crawled into the box.


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Kids like to play in these big boxes, the delivery man said. Theycall them their houses. Want me to put this box in your backyard? Or I could haul it away.

No, she said, barely hearing him, in the backyard will be fine

Andy came home all smiles, anxious to see Margarets pleasure.She camouflaged her disappointment as he spent that evening happilyconnecting the dryer.

Last week I had 220 volts run to the house, he explained. I knewyoud be at the playground in the morning so you didnt even see our men working here. It really was a surprise, wasnt it? he asked,

proud of himself.

Margaret had never seen him so happy as when he was setting upthe dryer and connecting it to the new outlet in the wall. When heturned it on and Margaret heard the motor and saw the drum goingaround and around, she felt ashamed at not showing him anyappreciation at his thoughtful gift.

Thank you, Andy. I really need the dryer. Especially in winter.


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So?

At that moment, Raymonds friend Kenny hopped off the teeter-totter, running off to something he saw, sending Raymonds end of the totter banging to the ground. Margaret and Larry rushed to soothethe screaming Raymond. Larry called Kenny back, and scolded himand then they both walked to their car.

Margaret watched them drive away, fantasizing running after him,to talk more.

Silly me again, she said to herself.

She looked for Larry each day at the playground, but didnt see himuntil the end of the week.

You look better, he said when they were pushing their childrentogether on the swings.

Yes. I feel better. Ive been forcing myself to eat. Hows school?she asked.

Its good on Fridays. No classes. Just catch-up lab time.

When you dont bring Kenny here, a woman brings him. Is thatyour wife? She looks so young.

Larry smiled. No. Thats our baby sitter. She helps us five days aweek, but on Fridays, or any day I dont have morning classes, I bringKenny. Its our father-son time. Does Raymonds father come to the

park? Larry asked.

No. He works.

Whats he do?

Hes a lineman for P.G.&E.

Whats he do when hes not working?

Mostly he listens to football games on weekends. Thats what hisfriends at work talk about, so he says he needs to have something tosay.

Larry kept pushing the swing and looking at Margaret, quizzically.


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What do you do when your husband is listening to football?

Oh, I dont know. Read, when Im not doing something withRaymond.

Besides reading?Writing. Ive tried writing some short stories. I used to write in

high school. My teachers told me I was good at it. Im going to writewhen Raymond starts school. Right now I cant write. Hes tooyoung. Too many interruptions. Ill wait.

Why wait?

Thats what I have to do.

You could wait your whole life away. If you really wanted to do it,youd do it. Maybe you could take a writing course atU.C.Extension.

I cant do that. I have Raymond.

I dont want to tell you how you could, but if you really want towrite, or paint, or sing, or, he laughed, study medicine, youd find away, even with Raymond.

After that, anytime she saw Larry at the playground she waited for him to bring up the subject of her writing, but he didnt mention it. Sohe didnt know she had phoned the U.C. Extension as he hadsuggested, and received a schedule of classes. Nor did Andy knowwhat she had done.

She talked to her mother about taking care of Raymond one day aweek.

Id love to. But what are you going to do?

If youll take care of Raymond, Ill take a course at Cal.In what?

Creative writing.

But you couldnt get in to Cal. How can you do that now?

Its different. Its an extension course. Anyone can take an


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extension course. Its not for units. I wouldnt graduate or anything.

Well Im glad for you, dear. I think thats a good idea. I dontknow why you couldnt get into Cal. Youre smart.

Not smart enough, Mom. I couldnt understand geometry. Youhave to have geometry to go to a university, and I couldnt do it. Itdidnt matter how good my grades were in anything else.

Margaret worried what Andys reaction would be, and wassurprised at his response.

It will be good for you, he said. I think you have enough to dotaking care of Raymond and the house. But one day a week it wonthurt to get out and see other people.

Each Wednesday morning, after riding the bus up UniversityAvenue, Margaret felt uplifted when she walked on to the campus.Her class in Wheeler Hall was conducted as a seminar, wherestudents read aloud what they had written for the weeks assignment,and then listened to the instructor and other students critique their writing.

Margaret could feel herself coming alive when she wrote. Doing awriting assignment, she would be sitting at her kitchen table in theevening when Raymond was in bed sleeping, as was Andy in his easychair in the living room, and when she started her sentences and feltthem take, she could actually feel her heart beat faster.

She loved the assignments. The initial one was to express their memory of the first house they lived in as small children, with manyconsiderations such as possibly the noise of creaking floors, or kitchen sounds and smells. To Margaret, reflections came easily. Sheeven remembered the flower design on her bedroom wallpaper andwhat she thought about it then. There were a couple of times whenshe was writing as the dinner was cooking before Andy came home,when she became so engrossed she didnt know the potatoes were

burning until she smelled them.

One evening after she and Andy had put Raymond to bed and Andy


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picked up the newspaper to finish reading, she asked if she could readsomething to him. Her instructor had said it was a learning experienceto actually hear what one had written. The particular assignment wasabout peoples facial expressions.

Thats nice, Andy said when she had finished. I can almost seethose kids youre writing about. But what are you going to do withsomething like that?

Nothing. Its just an exercise to teach us different things. Shewanted to tell him more about how she had tried to express the look of surprise and betrayal on Raymonds face when the end of histeeter-totter banged to the ground, and his friend Kenny ran away.But Andy had picked up the newspaper again.

Thats nice, honey, he said, looking up, seeing that Margaret waswaiting for him to say something more. Margaret felt let down. Shedidnt know why her happiness evaporated so quickly.

That next Wednesday she read that same paragraph to her class.Her classmates and the instructor found almost nothing to critique,although as he said, not complimenting a work is a critique also.Through the weeks she began to look forward to criticisms and

suggestions, where she previously had felt hurt and personallyoffended when anyone said something negative about her writing.

It was more than just the class that stimulated Margaret. She lookedforward to the after-class discussion at the Telegraph Avenue coffeeshop where six or seven of the class met and talked about their writing ambitions, or about their personal lives. All were in their thirties and forties, with more women than men. There were severalhousewives and mothers who were looking to improve the writing

theyd had to put aside in the first years of raising their children.One man worked in the mens department at Mervyns which he

hated. Hed always admired Hemingway and Faulkner and wanted tolearn how to incorporate some of their style into his own writing. Theother man was a civil engineer who didnt like the exactness of hiscareer, though it paid well. His plan was to stay at his job because it


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would support his writing. Margaret was impressed with his looks, but not with his writing. He probably was a good engineer, but he hadno confidence as a writer. But that was something one learned, shetold herself.

The next time Margaret saw Larry at the playground she told himshe had signed up for an extension class at U.C. Surprisingly hehugged her.

Im proud of you, he said.

While their children went up and down the slide, and Margaret andLarry were engrossed in conversation, Margaret realized all their talk was all about her.

Some day, she said, weve got to talk about what youre doing.Right now what Im doing hardly interests me, so I cant expect it

to interest you.

Like what? What does a pre-med student do besides go to classand learn to memorize?

He laughed. Im making slides. If I were a doctor Id tell my nurseto make a slide, or send something to the lab. But I have to know how

to do it myself. Its tedious and it has to be exact. Not like your writing. You can kind of play at it. He saw Margaret frown.

I mean, he explained, youll be able to bring a character intoyour writing and if it doesnt fit your story line, you can drop him, or change him. I envy you that looseness. At the same time. . . well, Imgoing on and on.

Thats interesting. I understand. I never thought of writing thatway.

To continue enjoying The Lost Son on your favorite eBook,visit www.junestephensonbooks.com

lost son by june stephenson reading sample

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