Free The Astral by Kate Christensen Page B

try.
    “As for Marion and me,” I told my daughter, “we’re not sleeping together.”
    The car gave a slight lurch; we leapt forward and sped up as the traffic eased suddenly.
    “But you’re staying there,” said Karina. “I offered you the spare room at my place.”
    So that’s what this was about.
    “I can’t mooch off my daughter,” I said. “I refuse to be a burden on you in any way. An old friend, that’s different. That’s what friends are for.”
    “That’s what family is for. And Mom is going even more off her rocker now that you’re living together. It’s just adding fuel to her fire. She’s throwing things. She’s beyond enraged. Last night I was afraid I would have to take her to the emergency room for a sedative or tranquilizer or something, it was that bad. Like a full-blown panic attack. You should find somewhere else to live or I’m afraid she’ll go totally berserk, Dad. Whether or not you guys are having an affair, it doesn’t matter at all.”
    “You should not be involved in this,” I said.
    “How can I not be?” Karina was suddenly near tears. “Mom calls me and starts ranting and I feel like if I don’t go over right away and keep her company she’ll … I feel like I’m all she has.”
    Our car shuddered in the thermonuclear backwash from several eighteen-wheelers in a row exploding by us. Karina kept us on course, looking straight ahead at the expressway, which was so thick with traffic it was hard to believe we were moving at all.
    I decided to change the subject. “How are you doing these days?” I said abruptly. “How’s the freegan business going?”
    As always, Karina recovered her aplomb quickly. “Okay,” she said. “I’ve been invited to be interviewed for a talk show on WBAI next week. Listen, Dad, I have to say, I think this group of Hector’s sounds weird. I’ve thought so since he joined. I think maybe …” She tapped her thumbs against the wheel.
    “You think maybe what?”
    “That it’s some kind of cult.”
    I snorted. “Everything’s some kind of cult,” I said, “if you scratch it hard enough. Hell, look at Catholicism.”
    “I took a class in college on cults and religions, Dad. Cults are distinguishable from religions in very crucial ways, and it’s not hard to tell the difference: in a cult, there’s a hidden doctrine and there’s mind control. Catholicism has no hidden doctrine: what you see up front is what you get. And there’s no mind control, either, despite all the guilt and pressure and catechism. Mind control is a very specific thing.”
    “Tell that to the Vatican.”
    “I will,” she said, laughing. “I’ll get them on the blower right away.”
    “How’s your new girlfriend?” I asked.
    “We broke up,” she said.
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    “I’m not,” said Karina.
    “Take this exit, the next one coming up,” I said, squinting at the directions, which Karina had printed from the Internet. Hector’s group’s place was near Sag Harbor. Apparently they lived communally in a manor house on a big property that one of the members had inherited. It all sounded very grand to me, hardly in keeping with their purported aims, which were to live humbly and simply, sharing everything as the first-century Christians had, not that this mattered at all to me one way or another. In fact, if anything, it was a good thing for me if these kids lived well. Hector had invited us for dinner and had told Karina, when she’d called to confirm that we were coming, that tonight was the celebration of a couple’s engagement, so we were in for a party, with wine, dancing, music, and a feast. I was looking forward to this feast. Since Luz had booted me, I was constantly hungry and never seemed to be able to feed myself properly. I’d had to tighten my belt a notch already. My trousers were sagging in the butt even more than usual. I looked forward to eating a lot of whatever they were cooking. I hoped they weren’t