The Leak and the Book

“…You just met one of the foremost liver surgeons in the world, a pioneer of liver transplants.”

“What’s his name?”

“Thomas Stone.”

Awww yes, the father appears. Does Thomas know that he was just in the same operating room with one of his twins? What will happen when they….

“Mom, my teeth hurt.”

Repeat of teeth brushing, Anbesol for kids and chewable Tylenol, bed, and sleep.

“….Even without makeup, hers would always be a stunning face. Although it was summer, she wore a long wool coat tied tight around the waist, and she hugged herself as if she were cold. She stood there motionless, like a small animal caught invading the territory of a predator, paralyzed and unable to move.”

Damn. She is alive. I thought that bitch died when she hijacked the plane. That is one long lost love that should have stayed lost. Why doesn’t someone tell him that she just isn’t into him? What a ho. Not worth his time. He needs to…

“Mom, the ceiling is leaking,” said the eleven-year-old boy.

“Put a bucket underneath it and I’ll deal with it in about 170 pages,” I said without ever averting my eyes from the book.

“Mom, the ceiling is going to crash down and flood our whole house. The water is gushing out,” he insisted.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes! Put your book and go downstairs!” he said.

Even with the enormous fissure and the threat of the ceiling caving, all I could think about was how a crack spewing water was such a small problem compared to the impending threat of Tuberculosis from a guerrilla solider who screwed almost all of the Eritrean army.

But then reality hit and the immediacy of flash flooding in my basement overshadowed the love affair between the terrorist whore and the brilliant surgeon.

Book closed. Leak stopped. The cuckold waited between the pages while I managed the repairman; fixed breakfast; made an appearance at my favorite non-profit’s open house to help recruit new members; witnessed kindergarten Show and Tell and drove the kids to chess practice.

Then, finally when all things and people were calm, the book remained open until all characters were rendered silent, and I deeply felt their absence.

Author’s Note: If you want to know what marvel of a novel nearly caused me to allow my house to flood, check back on Thursday, January 27 for my full review of the enchanting, mesmerizing, and magnificent novel that is the same caliber of One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Middlemarch by George Eliot.