July 24, 2002

Today is the day to quit playing games with my heart.

12

Once George had finished coughing up his piece of tiramisu, Lillibet resolved to figure out some sort of solution or direction for him so that she could get out of this hell of a lunch and go back to her lab and to her Sven.

"First, George, please put away that half-chewed piece of tiramisu, it looks like…" She trailed off as she struggled for the words. George hurriedly hid it in his napkin before she came up with a truly disgusting and horrible simile.

"Ok, so what now?"

"Tell it to me in detail again."

George heaved petulant sigh but started at the top.

"About two weeks ago, I sat down to write, and nothing came to me. Nothing at all."

Lillibet rolled her eyes.

"And usually I don't have to think, it just comes to me. And it comes to me every day, too, not just once in a while. So I called Geffen to talk to him."

Lillibet rolled her eyes harder at the mention of his name. "Why would you talk to him?"

"I don't know. Maybe I thought that talking to somebody so pitiful would get me back on track. But he just acted weird. And you know, he's always so excited to talk to me, even though he tries to pretend like I interrupted him in working on his dissertation, even though everybody knows that all he does is play Solitaire on his computer during his office hours, since his students never go see him. But then he basically hung up on me, like he had something to do."

"Go on."

"Then my sister called."

Lillibet wrinkled her nose. "Meredith? I never could stand her. Bland, bitter woman. Obviously just on this planet to procreate, although I don't know who would want any progeny of hers or her husbands."

"That's what I always said! But anyway, she tells ME that she's started writing a book."

"What? That's impossible, George, she must be lying. She can barely speak English. I remember one time she told me, 'I like your outfit, Lillibet, it looks real comfortable.' I'm sure she was just trying to screw with you."

"Well, I thought of that too but then I'm hearing things about how she's got this agent and whatnot and Oprah is looking at it…"

Lillibet settled back in her chair and waved her hand at the mention of Oprah, like George had mentioned something like a unicorn or a hippie or something like that.

George continued. "And this, like I told you, made me so angry. I couldn't really say why. And then I got an email from my father saying that he had gotten something published."

"What was it? Where?"

"A letter in the sports section of the town paper."

Lillibet snorted. She thought that sports in their entirety, dating back to Greco-Roman wrestling, were merely a time-wasting expression of repressed homosexual tendencies.

"But still, it was odd. And my father has no such ambitions. I could see Meredith trying to write to make me mad, but my father?"

"Hmm."

"And apparently Meredith is trying to get him to publish some godawful piece on hockey."

"So Meredith is trying to drive you nuts. So what did you do next?"

"I took the rest of the day off, and tried to rest. I thought that maybe my mind was working to hard."

"Yours?" Lillibet asked with a grin. But George didn't see that she was teasing him. He shrugged and continued.

"And Tom published something."

"Tom? The greasemonkey? What was it?"

"Something at some silly literary zine. I don't know. But again, it's bizarre. Oh! And my mother had a joke accepted at Readers' Digest."

"Life in these United States or Laughter is the Best Medicine?"

"I don't know."

"So, let me get this straight, every single person in your family has published something in the last two weeks, even though none of them have had aspirations to write, ever?"

"Yes," answered George miserably. "Oh, and my next door neighbor got something published in Vanity Fair."

"I bet she was very proud of herself."

"She was. But she's intolerable anyway. She has these horrible parties, and-"

"Wrap it up, George."

"That's it."

"Hmm. Well, George, I don't believe in curses. And I don't believe in karma, despite Sven's Zen. But for all intents and purposes, who knows, I wouldn't be surprised if it's some cruel joke from God."

George gave her the middle finger.

"Very nice, very mature. Anyway, I think you ought to talk to the people who are writing. See why they stole your inspiration."

"That's it! They stole my inspiration!"

"George, even as bitter and unpleasant you are, you know that that's a stupid idea. This is your problem, not your family's. It's just your problem that you're so unhappy about their success. But I think you should talk to them. Maybe you'll get it back. Maybe you'll steal your inspiration back. But I know one thing. I gotta get out of this restaurant before I puke."

And without even giving George a chance to respond, Lillibet got up and left, leaving him with the check and the unpleasant thought of having to converse with his loved ones.

But 'loved ones' is just a term, anyway.