Commonwealth

by Ann Patchett

they all left their cans beside Albie, who was sleeping the sleep of four Benadryls and a big slug of gin in the hot morning sun.

They had done everything they had ever wanted to do, they had had the most wonderful day, and no one even knew they were gone.

If Caroline and Franny made money themselves there would be a smaller chance that they would one day leave the guy they were married to for a guy who was rich.

“You can talk to me. That’s what we do. You look around this house, your house, and you think things are busy.” He shook his head. “I am very good at stopping. You say, ‘Brother, stop, come and sit with me,’ and here I am. You tell me what you need.” Then Fodé stopped and looked at him again, his face so close it was difficult to focus. “Albie, what do you need?”

When she came back she gave him a paperback called Commonwealth. “It was a very big deal last year, won the National Book Award, sold through the roof. Do you know it?”