by Janice Daugharty
Copyright 2010 Janice Daugharty
“Even working in microcosm, Janice Daugharty is a writer who thinks big.” New York Times Book Review—GOING THROUGH THE CHANGE, 1995
"Janice Daugharty is a born writer..." Joyce Carol Oates
"...Daugharty does a fine job of demonstrating how ordinary men and women are affected, in unpredictable ways, by race, poverty and geography and by the enduring legacy of important historical moments." Francine Prose, People
Husband and wife, they looked blood-related; they looked perfect, like arm-linking dolls on the top tier of a wedding cake. Except when they were drunk.
Drunk was how Associate Professor Randolph Sears—Randy to his only two friends—saw them that evening when he stopped under the arched entrance to the foyer of the Darton College President’s house on the campus where he taught. Standing so, with both arms straight down by his ribby sides, he was shocked with seeing the couple and himself too, an unlikely threesome that never should have happened. But he had been building up to that conclusion for a while. It was the why-continue that struck him with such force of futility, dullness, and the fool’s knowledge that he was being used. He was Anthony and Veranda’s ticket to literary events at the local college and that was all.