The Page 69 Test: "The House on Cold Creek Lane"

Liz Alterman is the author of The Perfect Neighborhood, He'll Be Waiting, and Sad Sacked. Her work appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, McSweeney's,

and other outlets. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and three sons where she spends most days microwaving the same cup of coffee and looking up synonyms. When Alterman isn't writing, she's reading.

She applied the Page 69 Test to her new novel, The House on Cold Creek Lane, and reported the following:

Page 69 in The House on Cold Creek Lane is written from Corey Sutton’s point of view. After suffering a devastating loss, this character moves to Florida to live with her mother in her retirement village condo. Corey takes a job at a garden center as a distraction. In this scene, the reader gets a glimpse into Corey’s state of mind and her inability to move on from the past that haunts her.

From page 69:
Rex was young, maybe twenty-five. He knew I wasn’t much for conversation. I kept my head down. Did the work. Being quiet made me mysterious, more interesting than I actually was.

We were clocking out around the same time the afternoon he saved me from that customer.

‘If you ever want to talk more about funguses, maybe we could get a drink sometime?’ His smile – that’s what got me. How long had it been since anyone had shown me kindness that wasn’t fueled by pity or twisted curiosity? Something stirred at the base of my body, a long-dead engine turning over, rumbling to life.

‘How about now?’ That stupid cactus clock ticked like a bomb as I stared at my boots and waited for his answer. What if he said, ‘Now? Really? We smell like manure,’ and I’d have to laugh it off or come back with some crack like, ‘Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you thought you were The Bachelor.’

What he’d said was, ‘I’ve got the perfect spot.’

Did I know what I was doing? That one drink would spill into four? That I wasn’t strong enough to resist the combination of his eyes and the water at sunset? That his calloused hand grazing mine to reach for the bar bill would be the same one that led me back to an apartment where we had hungry, urgent sex, once in the shower and then on the couch, its leather squeaking and sticking to our damp skin.

After, we laid there. His heart pumping so close to mine dragged me backward to Kenny, to the early days. I stared at the ceiling fan spinning to nowhere and felt the nothingness rush in, spreading through me like a disease.

‘That was . . .’ Rex let out a long whistle.

‘A mistake,’ I said at the same time he moaned, ‘Fantastic.’

‘Ouch.’ He laughed. ‘Is it ’cause I live with my parents? They’re on a cruise and I’m getting my own place, I swear.’

I shook my head. Hell, I lived with my mother in a retirement village. I wasn’t judging him. I couldn’t let it happen again because to feel good, normal, only to remember what my life had become, was too much. When we’d been pressed together, our bodies bumping hard and fast as pinball flippers, it swallowed me. Everything fell away. When it was over, guilt slammed me with the force of a hurricane. That’s when I vowed not to let anyone in again. To forget, even for a second, was a betrayal. I’d already failed Frankie enough.
At the risk of being non-committal, it’s hard to say if page 69 is truly representative of the novel because most of the story has an undercurrent of foreboding that the reader may not sense here.

Corey and the other main character, Laurel West (not discussed here), grapple with how the losses they’ve endured color and impact their judgement as they attempt to move forward with their lives.

This page isn’t characteristic of the novel’s tense and suspenseful tone but it does illustrate Corey’s sadness and how she punishes herself for what happened to her daughter, Frankie. She believes that if she experiences pleasure or allows herself to forget her child even for a moment, she’s betraying her.

This page also shows Corey’s sarcastic, snarky nature. Her refusal to create positive change or accept the help she’s offered propels the storyline, and in that way, it does pass the Page 69 Test. Maternal guilt and pressure are other themes I explore within the novel, and I think readers get a taste of that here.

Additionally, on this page, readers learn that Corey makes impulsive decisions when she asks Rex, ‘How about now?’ She doesn’t necessarily consider the consequences of her actions or how they affect others. As that reckless and restless side takes hold, it ultimately leads to the book’s dramatic conclusion.

I may have just talked (or written) myself into a “Yes, it does pass the Page 69 Test!”