Alethea Black - I Knew Youd Be Lovely: Stories

With humor, honesty, and wary hope, Alethea Blacks stories capture the pain and power of loving fullyand celebrate lifes small astonishments amid our shared human search for the divine. I Knew Youd Be Lovely is thoughtful, entertaining, and, ultimately, powerful.

Daphne Kalotay, author of Russian Winter

Alethea Black writes with a deceptively light touch, yet her work packs a serious punch Theres a spiritual hunger in her stories reminiscent of Flannery OConnor, combined with a voice that is all her own.

Sharon Pomerantz, author of Rich Boy

Reading Alethea Blacks seemingly effortless prose is like slipping into waterthe eerily clear kind, that shows you more than you may want to see.

Glen Hirshberg, winner of the 2008 Shirley Jackson Award

Alethea Black can drop you into a dream with a single sentence, then convince you its real. Her characters best hopes and worst fears usually come to pass, often in fabulous ways, but their adventures feel inevitable and truenot only because Ms. Black richly imagines her people, but because she loves them. I Knew Youd Be Lovely is a lovely debut, with masterful prose and inspired invention on every page.

Ralph Lombreglia, author of Men Under Water

Theres a touch of Lorrie Moore in Alethea Blacks stories, but the voice is all her own. Black writes about love, yes, but she also writes about solitudeits travails and its pleasureswith a winning combination of insight and charm. I Knew Youd Be Lovely is a terrific debut.

Joshua Henkin, author of Matrimony

Copyright 2011 by Alethea Black

All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Broadway Paperbacks, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. www.crownpublishing.com

BROADWAY PAPERBACKS and its logo, a letter B bisected on the diagonal, are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Some of the stories in this book were originally published in
American Literary Review, The Antioch Review, Arts & Letters, The Chattahoochee Review, Green Mountains Review, Inkwell, The Kenyon Review, Narrative, The North American Review, and The Saint Anns Review.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Black, Alethea.
I knew youd be lovely : stories / Alethea Black.
p. cm.
I. Title.
PS3602.L243I3 2011
813.6dc22 2010033120

eISBN: 978-0-307-88604-0

v3.1

Dedicated in loving memory of David Palecek to my sister Melissa and her four daughters: Katrina, Caroline, Sierra, and Annika.

At the still point of the turning world.
Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point,
there the dance is.

T. S. E LIOT

Earlier that evening, under the pale streetlamps, Bradley had sat on a park bench and watched a row of trees carefully gathering snow. It was as if they were beckoning it, as though the snow were something theyd been wanting to say.

Now, speeding down Fifth Avenue in a cab whose driver seemed unaware of his own mortality, Bradley wished he were back on that park bench. Or in the diner theyd just passed. Or that police station. Anywhere but on his way to a party where strangers with cardboard hats and noisemakers always made him feel as if he were on the wrong planet.

It was 10:15 New York time, which meant it would already be 3:15 A.M. in Islington. Probably too late to call your ex-wife, even if she was most likely still out somewhere, sequined, laughing, ice making music in her glass. Besides, what would he say? Im sorry was so easy and generic. Gail hated lack of specificity; in fact, this was one of the qualities that had drawn him to her in the first place. Whenever he used to overhear her on the phone with one of her sisters, she was always begging for details. What were you wearing? What did he order? Did he leave a nice tip?

Unfortunately, this need for particularity would later work against him. Toward the end, a therapist had pressed him to try to describe what was missing in their marriage. Its ineffable, hed said, at which point Gail stood up and shouted, Well why dont you try effing it! before she began to cry, softly, into her hands.

A professor once told him: You must perpetually fight against the inexpressibility of it all, in a voice so solemn it gave Bradley a chill. But his deepest experiences always left him mute. Mute with appreciation, mute with anger, mute with awe. Consequently, even when he was in a wonderful relationshipa wonderful marriage, in factsome part of him remained fundamentally alone. Once or twice, when there were still worlds of tenderness between them, he had lain awake after he and Gail made love, and while his wife slept beside him he shed silent, inexplicable tears. If Gail had awakened and discovered him, he wouldnt have known what to say.

As soon as he slammed the cab door, snowflakes began to speckle his head and coat. One hour, he said to himself, looking at his watch. His sole reason for coming to this party, given by a friend of a friend of a friend, was the affection and respect he held for Oscar. Oscar, whom he often thought of as irrational exuberance incarnate, also happened to be his financial advisor, and had stopped just short of bribery to enlist him. So against his better judgment hed agreed to make an appearance.

On the eleventh floor, even before the elevator doors opened, he could hear the noise of the party. In the invitation, the music had been described, mystifyingly, as post-funk sexycore yacht rock. At the end of a short hallway stood a tall blonde in a red sweater.

Well, hello! she said. Do come in. Bradley knew that in spite of his bookish exterior he was, generally speaking, easy on the eyes. He followed her into the foyer. She was wearing black velvet pants, the tops of which were covered in bright red fuzz, as if her sweater were molting.

You can put your coat in the back bedroom, she said close to his ear, in a party shout-whisper. She gestured, and for as far as the eye could see men and women bedecked in jewels and bow ties were sipping translucent drinks. They all looked to be in their mid- to late thirties. Im Evelyn, by the way, she said, extending her hand. Kikis sister.

Bradley. Pleasure.

Oh, youre English! she said. Bradley smiled and excused himself. After placing his gift of Champagne on the only unoccupied countertop space, he deposited his overcoat in the bedroom, then began navigating his way back to the living room