She could see how her veins showed lavender underneath her light skin. Sidda could see her mother's face, red with anger. There are no photographs left of you on any of my walls. Do not be surprised if I sue you for libel. The woman who interviewed me-' 'I have cut you out of my will. 'Mother, I did not mean for any of this to take place. Sidda sat up in bed and tried to catch her breath. I 'There is nothing you can say or do to make me forgive you,' Vivi said. At the sound of Vivi's hello, Sidda's stomach began to cramp. For the first time, she actually let it ring through. For the umpteenth time that week, Sidda punched in the number of her parents' home at Pecan Grove. Her relationship with her mother had never been smooth, but this latest episode was disastrous. Just the dog she'd named in honor of Huey Long. For the past week, the cocker had been the only company Sidda had wanted. After all, in her earlier review, Roberta had already proclaimed the production of Women on the Cusp, which Sidda had directed at Lincoln Center, to be 'a miraculous event in American theater.' With subtle finesse, the journalist had lulled Sidda into a cozy false sense of intimacy as she pumped her for personal information.Īs Sidda lay in the bed, her cocker spaniel, Hueylene, crawled into the crook formed by her knees. Roberta Lydell had been so chummy, so sisterly-seeming during the interview that Sidda had felt she'd made a new girlfriend. There had been no sign the theater critic would go for blood.

The pages of the week-old Leisure Arts section lay scattered on the floor next to Sidda as she curled up in the bed, covers pulled tightly around her, portable phone on the pillow next to her head.

That's what The Sunday New York Times from March 8, 1993, had called Vivi.

Ya ya sisterhood books in order