Fitting in is hard enough for any teenager. But, if you live on an old commune in sleepy Minnesota, you'll go to any length, whatever the cost. I was torn between sympathy for Linda and horror at the result of her choice.
Shock, revulsion, sadness: you are in for a tough ride and the beauty of the lake setting only adds to the disquiet you will feel.
Happy. I was happy.
I barely recognised the feeling.
So who could blame me for wishing that the husband's rescheduled plane would drift into a low-lying thunderhead? That it would shunt in sudden turbulence, lose elevation fast? Who could blame me for hoping his pilot would be young and scared, that he'd turn around and fly back over the ocean? The husband had his own baby stars to watch over and his own mountain to do it from, in Hawaii. I longed for straight-line winds between him and me, for hurricanes off the Californian coast. Downpours and lightning. The thunder was getting louder now. I felt the tent I'd built gather us in, Paul and Patra. Patra and me.