Hi,
I'm in the final three week stretch, finishing up my second novel
The Nakeds, and thought I'd post a random bit from the
middle of the book (see below). But first, click here
for some pictures of Diego for those of you who wanted to see him.
And also click here
to see what David painted for me.
The two
of them were naked at the dining room table. It wasn’t one
of those formal table and chair sets that Hannah was used to seeing
at her friends’ or father’s houses, but a picnic table
her mom and stepfather had paid the gardener to shellac. It was
a Friday night, and most of the kids she knew were at the movies
or mall, together, in groups, or even on dates, and here she was
having an early dinner with her naked family. In front of her: falafel,
oily rice, pita bread, humus, sliced lemons, tomatoes, and her mother’s
heavy breasts, her stepfather’s hairy chest. The bottom halves
of their bodies were covered by the picnic table, and for that,
Hannah was grateful.
Naked
at home was something new, something they did only on Thursdays
and Fridays—days that Azeem wanted to incorporate nudism into
their home life. Two weeks ago, he’d said, “We’re
nakeds. We should feel comfortable and celebrate in our home.”
“I’m
not a naked,” Hannah had said.
Hannah’s
mother had corrected him then, saying, “We’re not nakeds,
we’re nudists, Azeem.”
“I’m
not a nudist either,” Hannah said.
“Not
yet,” her mother said.
