The God of the Woods

by Liz Moore

Alice didn’t enjoy assessing her daughter’s body in this way. She understood conceptually that it was uncharitable; and yet she also believed that part of a mother’s duty was to be her daughter’s first, best critic; to fortify her during her childhood, so that in womanhood she could gracefully withstand any assault or insult launched in her direction. This was the method her own mother had used upon her. She hadn’t liked it at the time, but now she understood it.

It came from the Greek god Pan: the god of the woods. He liked to trick people, to confuse and disorient them until they lost their bearings, and their minds. To panic, said T.J., was to make an enemy of the forest. To stay calm was to be its friend.

“It’s just—lately I’ve been wondering whether having all of our material needs met from birth has been a positive aspect of our lives. It seems to me it may have resulted in some absence of yearning or striving in us. The quest, I like to call it. When one’s parents or grandparents have already quested and conquered, what is there for subsequent generations to do?”

Rich people, thought Judy—she thought this then, and she thinks it now—generally become most enraged when they sense they’re about to be held accountable for their wrongs.

It was important, she had heard, to let one’s husband feel invested in the children. Any interest he expressed should be rewarded.

he already had the air that all these men had. The feeling he was owed something. Everything.

But the quickest way to make an attractive man ugly was to give him too much to drink.

It was funny, she thought, how many relationships one could have with the same man, over the course of a lifetime together.

It’s the Van Laars, and families like them, who have always depended on others.