The Cherry Cola Book Club - By Ashton Lee Page 0,42
he complains. ‘Stop taking things out. Make it taste like it used to.’ I’m afraid he hasn’t downsized an ounce.”
On that note, Maura Beth decided to put an end to her kibitzing and get the literary portion of The Cherry Cola Book Club under way. “Ladies and gentlemen, shall we put away our plates, freshen up if we need to, and then delve into some Pulitzer Prize–winning prose?”
Maura Beth stood behind the podium ready to tackle the major theme of the evening: namely, “Was To Kill a Mockingbird one of the catalysts for the 1964 Civil Rights Act?” She did not, however, intend to open with such a ponderous question. She would lead up to it gradually, soliciting opinions from the members about the consequences of racism described in the novel. She expected the discussion would be far more substantial than the lightweight diversion that was Scarlett versus Melanie of a month ago. Her unspoken motto was: “Start simple, then step it up.”
Instead, Councilman Sparks stole the floor right out from under her again. “If I might, Miz Mayhew,” he began, “I’d like to pose a question here at the outset to all you good people—but particularly the men.” He did not wait for her to acknowledge his request, pressing on like the polished politician he was. “I’ve been giving this a great deal of thought. Don’t you feel that Atticus Finch is unrealistic as a character and a father? For instance, he’s raising Jem and Scout by himself and always gives them the right advice and never seems to make any mistakes. He has the moral high ground on everything. I don’t know any men like that, do you? Where are the typical male foibles? In fact, he has none.”
It took every ounce of Maura Beth’s restraint to keep from saying out loud: “I can see why Atticus Finch would be alien to a man like yourself.” Instead, she gathered herself and asked for reactions from the others.
Becca was the first to respond. “I wish my Stout Fella was much more like Atticus Finch, even if the character is unrealistic. Justin knows his business and gets things done, but he doesn’t leave much time for anything else. For instance, he hasn’t made time to slow down and think about us having a family, and we’ve been married ten years now. If we have children eventually—and I do want to—do I think Justin will be an Atticus Finch? No way. I don’t think men are like that in real life. So I suppose Councilman Sparks has a valid point.”
Douglas, who had been fidgeting in his chair a bit, entered the discussion with a slight scowl. “Now, wait just a minute here. I’ll admit we men aren’t perfect. Neither are our women. But I always took care of my family. I love my wife and daughter and granddaughter. You don’t have to be an Atticus Finch to do what you’re supposed to do—or the right thing, as the case may be. Have you thought that maybe Atticus Finch is written that way to make us strive to be better men—and lawyers, for that matter?”
“Speaking of which,” Councilman Sparks said, “don’t you think the law profession has taken a turn for the worse since they allowed billboard and television advertising? Hasn’t it cheapened everything?”
Douglas bristled, speaking up quickly. “I don’t advertise, Mr. Sparks. Never will.”
“But you do admit the existence of high-profile ambulance chasers?”
“Is that what we’re here to discuss?” Douglas pointed out, struggling for control.
And then Locke Linwood spoke up while holding Miss Voncille’s hand. “I’m not qualified to answer questions about lawyers, but getting back to the subject of the perfection of men, I can tell you for a fact that my Pamela had no complaints about me as a husband. Yes, we both made plenty of mistakes, but we hung in there and raised a family together. I don’t know how much more you could ask of any man.”
“Seems to me that what all of you are saying confirms my observation,” Councilman Sparks added, his face a study in smugness. “Atticus Finch is the perfect man and lawyer, and the rest of us could never measure up. We all have our profound weaknesses, and I guess we have to try to overcome them. In short, Atticus is unrealistic, and we are real. But we shouldn’t be made to feel bad if we can’t achieve a fictional ideal for the ages.”
Maura Beth realized she must step in soon to rescue