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© 2009 -2012, 
Emily Frankel. All rights reserved.


Take a look at KAREN OF TROY / Chapter 1.
[Click for page 2, page 3, page 4]

karen_of_troydSTEPPING INTO THE REVOLING DOOR, Mrs. K was scared.
As the door turned Mrs.K. was tempted to keep merry-go-rounding, not to get out, never to get out.

A man with a suitcase stepped into one of the glass quadrants. A bellboy stood waiting as the revolving door slowed to a stop. What does a lady do? Despite panic, she does what's expected of her. Clutching her purse, she digs for the admission ticket. She re-reads the printed words that instruct her: "12 noon. Mezzanine, Room 101," though she knows where to go—she memorized every word in the instructions. Whose voice is it, that prods her to quit procrastinating, find her bearings and proceed? Her husband's. And that thought reminds Mrs. K of the list of questions from the divorce lawyer that's in her purse, that's waiting to be filled out, that propels her like a bat out of hell across the hotel lobby.

No doubt about it, Mrs. Sidney Kaye was very nervous. She was hot and cold in the June noonday sun that poured in from the skylights above. Heart beating in her throat, she had difficulty swallowing.

She could barely catch her breath. With each step toward the bank of elevators she fought the impulse to turn and run for her life.

Feeling her skirt crackling with electricity, climbing rudely between her legs, Mrs. K tried to straighten it. Caught a girl in torn-knee jeans giving her the once-over, read the girl's mind—"Yucky dress, poor lady," and blinked to banish the girl. Blinked hard to rid herself of the sweat in her eyes, and focus.

karen_quote1_aFocus on the welcome sign that listed the Saturday meetings and meeting rooms: G.M. Conference... LSAT... Senior Citizen Forum... Focus on the people clustered in front of the elevator.

There was a white-haired couple, definitely senior citizens. Three men with briefcases, obviously going to the G.M. conference. Next to them some boys with untied sneakers. They were joined by the girl with the torn knees who crowded into the elevator along with Mrs. K. As the elevator door closed she could see the revolving door spewing them out—more kids in jeans and sneakers who were going to be taking the law school admissions test, along with her. The elevator door opened.

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