Professor Gryck. “Write. Literature. Very good literature.”
“Then how come all the writers who’ve been mentioned are men?” Gabriela asks again.
Professor Gryck comes to Mr Solman’s rescue. “There are many major writers who are women, as you well know, Ms Beeby,” she says, her voice as stiff as starched cotton. “Jane Austen… Virginia Woolf… George Eli—”
“Then why aren’t any of them up for Great American Novelist?” insists Gabriela.
Professor Gryck glances at the others, allowing herself a small but humourless laugh. “Well, for openers, they’re all British.”
Gabriela rolls her eyes in an exasperated, annoyed-by-a-snag way. “You know what I mean. I haven’t heard anyone mention one woman. Not even quickly. Not even because some famous male writer liked her stuff.”
Professor Gryck folds her hands, leaning forward slightly. “Perhaps you’d like to mention some then, Ms Beeby.”
Behind the writers’ group, a young woman sits by herself at a table for two, finishing her meal and flicking through the book on Babylonia that Professor Gryck bought in one of the museums they visited (and which she thinks she left on the bus). Remedios has been as unsuccessful as Gabriela at completely ignoring the conversation at the contestants’ table, and so has found herself almost sedated by it. But now she looks up with amused curiosity. Is it possible that things are finally going to get interesting?
Much to Gabriela’s surprise, there seems to be even more information on that high shelf at the back of her closet, put there unbeknownst to her by Mr Sturgess and suddenly, if inexplicably, discovered by Gabriela, for into the silence that has engulfed them like a giant plastic bag she suddenly hears herself say, “Maya Angelou… Edith Wharton… Alice Walker… Harper Lee… Kate Chopin… Toni Morrison… Anne Ty—”
“No one would argue that those novelists haven’t produced some very fine work,” Professor Gryck interrupts her, “but I don’t know that any of it can be considered truly great.”
“Why not?” asks someone nearby – but not so near that Professor Gryck can tell who it is. “What criteria are you using to measure greatness?”
Professor Gryck sits up a little straighter as her smile becomes noticeably thinner. “I’m afraid the simple fact is that, on the whole, women tend to write more domestically and personally – about relationships and that kind of thing – while men deal with the larger, more profound issues.”
“Like what?” This time there is no doubt who spoke.
“Like everything, Ms Beeby. War… philosophical and existential questions of existence… power… meaning… government….”
“And those things don’t involve relationships?”
The only ones smiling are Delila and Remedios.
“Well, yes, of course they do. What I meant was that women are more concerned with the emotions … with love stor—”
Gabriela nods. “You mean like ‘Romeo and Juliet’? ‘
“Good Lord, will you look at the time?” Professor Gryck waves a hand at the waiter. “I’m afraid we can’t have dessert after all. We’d better get going or we’ll be late for the play.”
As far as Gabriela is concerned, the good thing about the theatre is that it’s dark and no one is going to ask her to say anything. She can just sit there, invisible and mute, and in a couple of hours they’ll be on their way back to the hotel and she can go to bed and forget this day ever happened – at least until the morning. As soon as the lights dim, she starts to relax. Gabriela has only been to a real theatre once before, and that was to see the musical so mocked by Jayne at breakfast. This play is not a musical. It is also long and convoluted, making it difficult for Gabriela to tell who is who and what is what. The actors are dressed in modern clothes, but they don’t speak like real people speak – or even like the unreal people in movies speak. Nor do they have microphones, so that you have to listen really closely to hear what’s being said. But even when Gabriela hears what’s being said she isn’t always sure what’s going on. There are at least two characters who, as far as she can tell, never actually make an appearance.
Gabriela falls asleep.
As soon as they emerge from the theatre, Professor Gryck makes it clear that her limited supply of patience and forgiveness has officially run out. “You’ve been trying to make me look a fool all day. Are you purposely trying to undermine me? Is that what you’re doing?” she demands. “I’m an academic so I’m used to backstabbing and treachery, but not from my students!” She might possibly understand that someone who has spent the day trying to get arrested might be so tired from her efforts that she falls asleep in one of the greatest plays ever written, but did Gabriela have to
The other phrase she keeps repeating is “insult to injury”.
And indeed, even as they finally enter the hotel, Professor Gryck is saying, “As if that wasn’t enough, you had to add insult to injury!”
“I said I was sorry,” says Gabriela, who has – and who very much
Gabriela was about to say (also not for the first time) that it wasn’t as if she’d deliberately snored during a tense moment on stage. The reason she doesn’t finish this sentence is because it is right then that she notices a tall, skinny scarecrow of a woman in pink pedal pushers, pink baseball cap and a shirt that identifies her as a member of a bowling team in Long Beach, running towards them, shrieking, “There you are! At last! Oh, praise the Lord you’re alive! I was beside my wits!”
There is no doubt in Gabriela’s mind that this badly dressed woman is shouting at her. She’s looking right at her and waving her arms. Who else could she possibly be shouting at?
Professor Gryck, also reduced to silence by the sight of a hysterical woman – who clearly wouldn’t recognize a Norse saga if it appeared in her bowling bag – charging across the lobby of The Xanadu like a runaway ball, would also like to know who it is.
Interestingly, there are two people in close proximity who can answer that question. The first is Beth. Shoeless again, she is limping towards the elevator with Lucinda when she hears an all-too-familiar voice screeching loud enough to be heard on the other side of the valley. Is there
The shock of seeing her mother’s sister where she very much shouldn’t be makes Beth scream as loudly as if she’d walked into the kitchen and seen a rat scampering over the counter. As we all know, when faced with a dangerous situation, the natural response is either to fight or to flee. Beth chooses flight, but turns around so quickly that she smacks into Lucinda and knocks them both down.
Remedios has been looking forward to going to her suite and watching a movie. Before something else goes wrong. But the galumphing figure hurtling towards them pulls her up sharply. Clearly, something else already has gone wrong. But she is used to thinking quickly and acting even more quickly. So she leans over the shoulders of Gabriela and Delila and says very clearly, “Ladies, that’s Aunt Joyce.”
Although it wasn’t Gabriela who spoke, Delila looks over at her. “Well damn me, you do have an aunt.”
Of course she has an aunt. It’s amazing that she doesn’t have several uncles and a dozen cousins as well, all of them dressed like they’re on permanent vacation and loitering in the lobby of The Xanadu. What the heck is this woman doing here? Now. Hasn’t this day been bad enough? The moment is slightly reminiscent of the time she wore that wrap-around skirt to Bessie Malarch’s party and it unwrapped itself as she walked into the room. She does exactly what she did then. She takes a deep breath, and – metaphorically this time – picks up the skirt. “Aunt Joyce!” cries Gabriela. “What a great surprise! What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing? Your poor mother’s worried sick. She’s been calling all day and—”
Another scream, this one sharp as a glover’s needle, cuts her off.
This scream, too, was made by Beth. Otto, on his way to the elevator to retreat to the calm and safety of the El Dorado Suite, automatically stopped to help Beth and Lucinda up from the floor. So much for giving aid; she nearly blew his ear off. When Gabriela and everyone else in the lobby looks over, several glamorous young women are gathered round two other glamorous young women in a heap on the carpet. (There is no sign of Otto, of
