We Need to Talk About Kevin: A Novel by Lionel Shriver

Author:Lionel Shriver [Shriver, Lionel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780061124297
Google: _X1W5n_riscC
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2006-07-03T22:31:41+00:00

secret accrues interest by dint of having been kept; c o m p o u n d e d by lying, Know how I really broke my arm, Dad? might have even more explosive impact in a month's time. Too, so long as he retained the principle of his windfall in his account, he could continue to take out loans against it, whereas blowing his wad all at once would plunge his assets back to a six-year-old's allowance of $5 a week.

Further, after all my sanctimonious singsong lectures (How would you feel... ?), I had provided him with a rare opportunity to annex the moral high g r o u n d — w h o s e elevation would afford a few novel views, even if this was not, at length, a territory destined to suit his preferences in real estate. Mr. Divide-and-C o n q u e r may also have intuited that secrets bind and separate in strict accordance with who's in on them. My chatter to you about Kevin's needing to opt for baths over showers to keep the cast dry was artificially bright and stilted; w h e n I asked Kevin whether he wanted parmesan on the popcorn, the question was rich with appeal, terror, and slavish gratitude.

For in one respect I was touched, and remain so: I think he had experienced a closeness to me that he was reluctant to let go. N o t only were we in this cover-up together, but during the very assault we were concealing, Kevin too may have felt whole, yanked to life by the awesome sisal strength of the umbilical tie. For once I'd k n o w n myself for his mother. So he may have k n o w n himself also, sailing amazedly across the nursery like Peter Pan, for my son.

T h e remainder of that summer defied all my narrative instincts.

Had I been scripting a TV movie about a violent harridan w h o flew into fits of blind dudgeon during w h i c h she was endowed with superhuman strength, I'd have had her young boy tiptoeing around the house, shooting her tremulous grins, offering up desperate gestures of appeasement, and just in general shuffling, cowering, and yes-massa-ing about the place, anything to keep

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