When Good Wishes Go Bad by Mindy Klasky

Author:Mindy Klasky
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Dramaturges - New York (State) - New York, Man-woman relationships, Fantasy fiction, Single women, Jinn, Contemporary, General, Romance, Wishes, Paranormal, Fiction, Dramaturges, Love stories
ISBN: 9780778328216
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2010-04-01T00:25:53+00:00

"To the Popcorn King!" I said, raising my glass of Burgundy toward Ryan's.

"Pop off!" he said, clinking his goblet gently against mine.

I took a sip of the wine. It was the bottle that Jenn had given me, the one that had been intended to bribe me into choosing someone's manuscript. Somehow, it seemed like a complete exorcism of theatrical favoritism to share the wine with Ryan, to celebrate our good fortune together.

I sighed contentedly, collapsing back on the couch and watching the symphony of nighttime lights blinking on in the cityscape outside my windows. "Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars." I smirked at Ryan over the rim of my glass. "What made you start with that number?"

"I lived in Africa for two years," he said. "You learn a lot about haggling in the markets over there."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, toasting him again. "What was it like there?" I asked.

"It was beautiful." He sounded wistful. "The sunlight has a quality that I've never seen anywhere else. For months at a time, there's no rain, and dust gets kicked up along the roads, picked up by the wind. Every sunset is gorgeous."

"Orange," I said dryly. "And yellow."

"Bite your tongue," he retorted, but he smiled. He took another sip of wine and then set his goblet on the table. "It was terrible, though, too. Entire families live for a year on what we Americans fritter away in a single week. It's bad for the kids, but the mothers have it worst. They gather whatever food they can, and they try to stretch their money in the marketplace. At home they serve their husband first. After he's eaten, the kids get what's left over. A lot of women survive on a handful of porridge a day."

He fell silent, and I knew that he was remembering specific women who had suffered for those they loved. I'd read his play. It had shown me the power structure, the religious framework, the social construct that forced generations into bittersweet roles.

But reading was one thing. Living was another.

Even though I'd brought up the topic, I wanted a distraction. I stood up from the couch and took my goblet to the window. The panes were well-insulated; I felt only a hint of a chill from the outdoors.

Nevertheless, I reached protectively toward the metal carts that stood next to the glass. Dani had rolled them in the day before, two metal frames, each with a solid shelf at knee height. Our cabbage seeds rested on one; onions waited on the other. I could just make out the tiniest fringe of green on the peat pots that Ryan had helped me to fill.

The tentative new growth made me smile. I had never quite believed that the seeds would germinate, that actual, real vegetables could grow out of anything as tiny as those seeds.

Ryan came to look over my shoulder. "Ah," he said. "My mother has made another convert."

I laughed. "I know I shouldn't be amazed. Seeds, dirt, and water.

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