Nude With Family Stories
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Nude With Family Stories
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Birthday Party – Family Short Story Photo credit: schmitee from morguefile.com
Once upon a time when I was in school I remember my best friend called me late night on Saturday to invite me on her birthday next day. I was very happy and very excited to go there but I needed to take permission from my parents. I went to my Papa’s room and slowly asked him,
“Papa tomorrow is my best friends birthday and I really want to go.”
Papa said, “OK I dont mind but ask your mom.”
Suddenly she replied, “What do you want.”
I was like shocked, “Mom how do you know that I need to say something.”
She said, “The way you are talking shows that” and she smiled.
I asked her, “Mom, I want to go tomorrow.”
She said, “OK you can go but u have to be back before 10.”
Then my preparations started. I made 1 card for my friend and start selecting cloths for the party, and finally everything completed and I went to sleep and only one thing was there in my mind all the time THE PARTY. I was waiting for the night to end and the party to begin.
Next morning my Mom was surprise to see me, no alarm, no Mom’s warning just I woke up by myself. The whole day had passed and now its party time. My father dropped me to my friends place and said me that he will be back at 10.
I enjoyed a lot at party. My friend loved that card which I made for her and everybody in the party loved my dress. I was on cloud nine. We had dinner, we played so many games and it was 10 finally. I remembered my Mom’s advice that I should be back till 10. I came out and start searching for my dad, but i could not be able to find him. I was so worried and scared, everybody was inside, I was alone there. I waited there for 5 to 10 min but waiting alone seems to be more than the time. I started walking, I thought at least I can go home by walking as my home was 20 min away from my friends place. As I was walking I was weeping as I have never walked alone on the road that too at night.
Suddenly I heard some one calling something. I was scared and I started walking fast. I thought some goon was there or some ghost… As i was walking fast I heard someone walking fast behind me. I started running and crying, then I saw some cars parked there. I hid behind those cars. I saw one shadow searching for me. I prayed to god to save me and to help me to reach home. After sometime I could not see that shadow. I came out slowly and ran towards my home. Finally I reached home. I hugged my mom and I started crying. She started asking so many questions what happened,why you are crying and all but I was unable to answer any of them.
After sometime I relaxed and said everything to mom. She got scared and while we were discussing my father came and asked what happened. As soon as I started telling him my story he said,
“I saw you and I was screaming at you but you were running away from me and suddenly you disappeared. I was searching you there. I came late there as my tyre got puncture.”
My mom bursted out laughing and told my dad everything, I was shocked to hear that and felt relieved. My father hugged me and said,
My mom said, “You should be calm and strong in every situation.”
But they said they are really happy and proud of me that I came home. That day I slept with my parents and really felt very safe and secure. Next day I went to school I told my friends everything that happened with me last night they heard everything and were surprise that I bravely face everything..
So that was the best party and adventurous night and great response from everyone… I loved that…
‘The Nakeds’: A young, broken girl and her nudist family
“The Nakeds,” by Lisa Glatt. (Regan Arts)
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Ron Charles Ron Charles writes about books for The Washington Post. Before moving to Washington, he edited the books section of the Christian Science Monitor in Boston. Follow
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“The naked and the nude,” Robert Graves observed, “stand as wide apart as love from lies.”
That slippery distinction could be the epigraph for Lisa Glatt’s sly new book, “The Nakeds.” Glatt, a poet whose most recent novel was “A Girl Becomes a Comma Like That,” knows just how to peel away the pretensions of modern life. In the sunlight of her prose, everybody looks pink and vulnerable.
As “The Nakeds” begins in 1970, all kinds of things are shattering: a NASA satellite, a toxic marriage, a drinking glass, the bones of a little girl. Asher and Nina Teller are having another vicious argument when their daughter, Hannah, decides she’s had enough and walks to school by herself. Trying to stay off a neighbor’s lawn, Hannah veers into the street just as a young drunk careens by:
“It was a confrontation,” Glatt writes, “the briefest coming-together and breaking-apart, which propelled Hannah into the sky so that she was as far away from her warring parents . . . as possible, in the air, turning over — her two feet not even sharing the earth with them.”
That violent opening fuses several storylines in “The Nakeds,” a sharp, unsettling novel about damaged people limping through life. Young Hannah will spend the next decade enduring a series of orthopedic treatments to rebuild her shattered leg. A toe-to-groin cast with some Frankenstein hardware moves her to the sidelines of adolescence, where she is neither one of the cool injured athletes nor the pitiable handicapped. Suspended in a state of perpetual healing, she’s trapped indoors and inside her head, and Glatt captures her precocious, analytical mind as she strains at playing hopeful year after year, while one doctor after another makes promises and then defects.
To some indecipherable extent, the emotional energy here is autobiographical: Glatt suffered a similar accident when she was a child and spent years in treatment. But much of this novel imagines the wholly fictitious life of the young man who hit Hannah and left her on the road. He’s a good-looking alcoholic so crippled by guilt that he lurks around the hospital and her home. Glatt brings us right into a consciousness fermenting in self-pity: “Alone — even stoned alone or drunk alone — meant alone with his thoughts and his thoughts inevitably turned to the girl.” Unwilling to confess to his crime or seek therapy for his addiction, he grows even more immobile than Hannah.
This psychological drama slides along an electric wire of suspense, but what really charges “The Nakeds” is a weird development in Hannah’s home: Her newly remarried mother and hip, young stepfather want to improve their marriage by being totally honest and open, an admirable if naive goal they pursue by taking off all their clothes. “They turned up the thermostat and moved around the house,” Glatt writes. “Her mom did laundry, scooped the clothes they were not wearing into the washing machine. [Her stepfather] pushed the vacuum in the living room. He sat down at the desk in the den and studied. . . . It was a lot to see. It was more of them than Hannah wanted to see.” Soon, the family is packing up the car and heading off for weekends to a nudist colony.
Not entirely coincidentally, as I was reading “The Nakeds,” I was also enjoying Mark Haskell Smith’s new book, “Naked at Lunch: A Reluctant Nudist’s Adventures in the Clothing-Optional World” (Grove, $25). It’s a breezy survey of the history of “organized nonsexual social nudism,” a phrase that could deflate even the most titillated high school boy. Fortunately, Smith offers lots of funny anecdotes about his first-person research. As you might imagine, the clothing-optional world is not all Adonis and Aphrodite playing volleyball. “Follow the beautiful buttocks in the brochures,” Smith writes, “and she will lead you to a bunch of sun-ravaged retirees sitting around the pool.”
That’s pretty much what Hannah discovers, too, reflecting once again Glatt’s own experience as the child of a nudist. But for Glatt, this too-revealing setting is a perfect arena in which to explore Hannah’s peculiar status as someone who is never nude — who can never be nude. “There was her leg covered up with plaster,” Glatt writes. “She was always hidden. . . . She wasn’t whole, not really. She was a girl in pieces.”
Peculiar as Hannah may feel, though, Glatt implies that each of these characters remains veiled and fragmented. The stepfather insists, “Honesty is important. Getting it all out in the open,” but for all that candor, he’s a self-righteous philanderer, as eager to party as any randy suburbanite in John Updike’s “Couples.” His preaching about the benefits of openness and shame-free pleasure merely cloaks his own betrayals. And the drunk driver who injured Hannah so many years ago is layered in his own lies and self-deceptions.
Glatt’s debut collection of poetry from 1996 was titled “Monsters and Other Lovers,” which is a tempting description of the men in this novel, too. Dressed or undressed, every one of them is a cad. And yet they’re not actually monsters — not Hannah’s hypocritical father, not her creepy stepfather, not even the young alcoholic who wastes his life in pickled remorse. They may be stripped bare in this compelling novel, but they’re never denied their humanity, their urgings to be better, kinder, more honest. If they sometimes look ridiculous in these pages, well, don’t we all?
Ron Charles is the editor of Book World. You can follow him on Twitter @RonCharles .
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