Read A Certain Age for Free Online Page A

I think there's stuff in the fridge if you want to fix lunch."
    "Sure!" said Florence.
    "She's really not too bright," Natalie reiterated to Florence with a certain pride as she went out. It seemed to Florence that Natalie had been seared clean of human insecurities, feelings, weaknesses, emotions. She was like an artificial flame, blunt, cold and ferocious. She got what she wanted; no one would dare cross a tiger. She got what she wanted; that was the main thing. And—at least from Florence's point of view—she seemed to have to pay no price. Goddess of vengeance: Kali. Though all goddesses were goddesses of vengeance when it came right down to it, Florence thought, as Natalie called from the front door, "Clean up and do the dishes when you're done in there!"
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    4
    "You're not drinking water from the tap, are you?" said Claudia.
    Florence looked at her glass. "Yes. Why?"
    "You're not supposed to drink the tap water out here!" Claudia said with a frightened grimace. "It's got those things in it."
    "What's going to happen to me?"
    Claudia shrugged.
    "What subject does your tutor teach you?" Florence asked Claudia after a pause.
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    "I don't know," said the child grimly, spooning vast quantities of cherry jam onto the remaining half-slice of whole-grain toast. "Different things. Math. I don't like math. We grew some radishes. Something ate them, though, before they were big enough to eat."
    "That must have been disappointing." Florence scrambled for an appropriate remark.
    Unable to speak, Claudia nodded. A little dark pink goo blurted from the corner of her mouth. "Is there any toast left?" she said when she had swallowed.
    Florence shrugged. "I don't know. You want me to go see?"
    "That's okay." Claudia pulled the jar of jam toward her. "I just like the jelly part anyway. I don't need the bread." She removed a spoonful and began to pick the cherries from the mucilage. "I hate her."
    "Who?"
    "My mother. I hate her."
    "Oh, Claudia, I'm sure you don't hate your mother," Florence said. "You just get mad at her sometimes." She wished she hadn't spewed this platitude. But what else was she supposed to say? Claudia was right, Natalie was awful, but how was she going to get through her whole life if she saw things so clearly and said them out loud? Anyway, she didn't know what to say to a child. She couldn't remember what it was like, except for a certain vague feeling of powerlessness—but that had never gone away. "You know, I saw a program, it was about these African hunting dogs. Or maybe they were hyenas—anyway, they live in packs. And it's one of the females, not the male, who's dominant. So everybody has to obey her. And all the other females have to give her their puppies. Nobody gets to keep a puppy except for the dominant female. And if the others don't obey her, she beats them up. But it—ah—it's for their own good." Somehow the story hadn't come out exactly right.
    "I hate her."
    "What are your plans until your tutor comes?" Florence said uncomfortably.
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    "Nothing. Watch TV, I guess."
    "It's such a beautiful day!" Florence said. "Don't you want to swim in the pool? Your swimming pool is so beautiful!" Claudia sat lumpishly. "Nobody to play with." "I was thinking of going back to the beach. You want to
    come?"
    "My mother said I can't go to the beach." "I'm sure she meant by yourself. I can watch you." This seemed to cheer Claudia up. "Really?" she said. "Okay! I'll go get ready."
    Florence lay in the sun by the pool, trying not to think about the night before. Perhaps it hadn't happened. The lives of these people seemed so unreal; nothing here was any more serious than the action unfolding in a film. It was only a matter of time before she, too, joined their ranks, abandoning feelings—anguish, despair, hope, caring, understanding—thoughts, wishes, dreams, ideals. She had so few of those things already. The world inhabited by Natalie and John had no more depth than a picture in a glossy magazine. Their