Excerpt from the novel

T= ethered

I’m sitting on Aunt Fannie’s old couch. I was hoping to see = Afton out in the yard after I came home from work= , but by seven o’clock I gave up hope and came knocking on his door. He invited me in, but then didn’t know what to do with me.&nb= sp; I stood at the door for a while until he told me to sit and then he left the room.

An album spins around behind the smoky glass= door of Afton’s stereo cabinet. I don’t recognize the voic= e, but it’s clear and resonant. I’m sitting with my hands on my knees on Aunt Fannie’s= old brown couch watching that record spin and listening to that solitary voice. The couch keeps me l= ow to the floor, as if the springs don’t bother to push anything back up anymore. Any minute I expec= t to see Aunt Fannie walk around the corner, carrying a lunchmeat tray.

Afton finally comes into the room carrying two na= rrow glasses with white designs etched in the sides. He has a half smile on his face.= “Nobody could sing like Roy Orbison,” he says. “That man knew all about feelings.” He puts his glass directly on the coffee table, the one Aunt Fannie always insisted we use coasters on. He sits in a chair that looks li= ke a tilted bowl covered in cracked orange plastic with thin wooden legs and g= old feet. We used to fight over= it when we were kids. “I= need to see my sisters,” he says, as if I can help him. “I still haven’t cal= led Soph,” he mumbles as an after-thought.

“Okay.” I can hear my voice trailing awa= y.

“I don’t want to bore you with a= lot of details, missy, but I haven’t talked to my sisters for a long time.” He’s wea= ring one of those smiles that are more about pain than pleasure. “About five years after Ne= ddie and I were married.”

I take a drink of my lemonade. An afternoon glow shines through= the front window. The coffee ta= ble shines; no indelible rings.

“With all the mess Neddie is going thr= ough I just feel like I should go talk to them, just one time, and let them know= the score.” Afton turns the glass around in his big hands.= “What happens after that is up to them, you know what I mean?”

I’m not sure what he means, but I̵= 7;m pretty sure it has to do with the idea that Nadine will be dying soon. “Sure.” I try to sound reassuring.

Afton lea= ns back hard in the orange chair and it starts to tip. “Damn,” he says, “never could sit in this thing.” He gets up and sits beside me on= the couch. He leans back into i= t and rests his elbow on the arm. “So what I need is some support. Someone that will stand there and listen with me. That’= s what you do with my sisters, listen.”

I take another drink and an ice cube hits my= nose.

“You’re a good listener, missy.<= span style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> That’s why I thought of you.”

“I’ll go.” Afton studies my face and I swipe my wet nose with the back of my hand.

“Now don’t feel obligated. I know we don’t know each = other very well, but you were so nice to come to the hospital and…”=

“Where do they live again?”

“North Branch. Ever been there?”

“Maybe. I can’t say I remember it much, though.”

“It’s not a bad little town. Not that I’ve seen it in t= hirty years.”

“Gosh, Afton, you haven’t seen your sisters in thirty years?”

“God, no.” Afton swallows down his drink. “Not that they’re so awful or anything. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. It’= s just that we had some differences.”

“Sounds like a normal family to me.” I put my empty g= lass on the table, without a coaster. Sorry Aunt Fannie.

“See, that’s what I mean about you. If you’ll go, I&= #8217;d really appreciate it. IR= 17;ll even take you to Columbo’s. They make the best food you’ve ever tasted. At least they used to.”

&nb= sp;