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Show Motherlunge a novel 5 "See that zoom?" I prompted him, "See that focus on the close up of the bouquet? It's not as easy as it looks." Here Adam made the sound I knew his father-the professor of pure math, acting chair of his department at the U.-would make if he were there: a kind of closed-mouth sigh, committed to its single note. "How about that framing?" I went on to ask. Doug the videographer had tutored me during the wedding reception; I could point out to Adam the way in which the potted fem flexed in time to the organ's high bronchial melody, how the train of Pavia's dress coiled artfully toward the bridesmaids' shoes. "And what do you make of that filter?" I asked-for indeed the chapel's rosette window strained a shaft of milky light. "Pavia looks really hot" Adam slid the current Hustler off my thigh and settled his head into the center of my Lotus position. This was painful of course-as Dorothy might say, God didn't intend for ankles to bend that much-so I rolled forward into the Cat posture, placing my hands on either side of Adam's bony hips while he sighed again the monotonous sigh he'd inherited from his father. "And so do you, Thea." "Fine, then," I said, forcing my chin down towards my sternoclavicular joint, breathing into my fourth chakra. My glasses lifted off my nose and hung from my ears; strands of my hair became attracted to the grain of Adam's corduroys. "Fine. You don't think technique matters. Well, I don't believe in your stuff either." "Explain," Adam said, working his hand into my jeans, trawling my underwear. "That stuff," I said, "gravity, velocity. Waves, polarity." Evidently my feelings were hurt. So while the air crackled with electricity and the VCR militated for the wedding march (again), I had one more thing to say to the former Merit Scholar-"I mean physical laws, in general"-and I liked the way I said it, daringly, perhaps huskily, |