Open House - Couverture souple

Berg, Elizabeth

 
9780091793845: Open House

Synopsis

« Peut-être que Freud ne connaissait pas la réponse à ce que veulent les femmes, mais Elizabeth Berg le fait. « USA Today » : vous vous penchez sur le sèche-linge, sortez les draps encore chauds et les connaissances avancent dans votre colonne vertébrale. Vous regardez l'homme que vous aimez et vous ne regardez rien ; il est parti avant qu'il ne disparaisse. « Lorsque le mari de Samantha Morrow la quitte, elle et son fils de onze ans, elle est confrontée à la perspective terrifiante d'avoir à recréer toute sa vie. Après quelques étapes vacillantes, elle commence à mettre les pièces en place. Elle ouvre sa maison à une série de locataires qui chacun de leur manière excentrique l'aident à se voir. Elle repoussera sa mère, dont l'idée de surmonter un mariage raté est de se faire une pédicure et de sortir sortir sortir ensemble. Et elle se fait un ami, roi, un diplômé du MIT devenu bricoleur, qui lui montre qu'elle a la capacité de faire son propre avenir et son propre bonheur.

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Extrait

PROLOGUE
You know before you know, of course. You are bending over the dryer, pulling out the still-warm sheets, and the knowledge walks up your backbone. You stare at the man you love and you are staring at nothing: he is gone before he is gone.

The last time I tried to talk to David was a couple of weeks ago. We were in the family room--David in his leather recliner, me stretched out on the sofa. Travis was asleep--he'd had his eleventh birthday party that afternoon, the usual free-for-all, and had fallen into bed exhausted. The television was on, but neither of us was watching it--David was reading the newspaper and I was rehearsing.

Finally, "David?" I said.

He looked up.

I said, "You know, you're right in saying we have some serious problems. But there are so many reasons to try to work things out." I hoped my voice was pleasant and light. I hoped my hair wasn't sticking up or that my nose didn't look too big and that I didn't look fat when I sat up a bit to adjust the pillow.

"I was wondering," I said, "if you would be willing to go to see someone with me, just once. A marriage counselor. I really think--"

" Samantha," he said.

And I said, "Okay."

He returned to the paper, and I returned to lying on the sofa, to falling down an elevator shaft. There were certain things I could not think about but kept thinking about anyway: how to tell the people I'd have to tell. How lonely the nights would be (that was a very long elevator shaft). How I believed so hard and for so long that we would be able to overcome everything, and now I would have to admit that we could not. How wrenching it is when the question you want to ask is "Why don't you want me?" but you cannot ask it and yet you do not ask--or talk about--anything else.

"David?" I said again, but this time he did not look up.

Présentation de l'éditeur

'Maybe Freud didn't know the answer to what women want, but Elizabeth Berg does.'USA Today'You are bending over the dryer, pulling out the still-warm sheets, and the knowledge walks up your backbone. You stare at the man you love and you are staring at nothing; he is gone before he is gone.'When Samantha Morrow's husband leaves her and her eleven-year-old son she is faced with the terrifying prospect of having to recreate her whole life.After a few faltering steps she starts to put the pieces into place. She opens her house to a series of lodgers who each in their eccentric way help her to see herself.She fends off her mother, whose idea of getting over a failed marriage is to get a pedicure and get out there dating.And she makes a friend, King, an MIT graduate turned handyman, who shows her that she has the ability to make her own future and her own happiness.

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