Read Online Boys and Girls Together by William Saroyan - Free Book Online

in America.’
    â€˜For your own sake, stop lying, will you?’
    â€˜It’s not a lie. He told me at a party, when you were overseas.’
    â€˜Well, I don’t want them here, that’s all. If they come to town, you can take a taxi and spend an afternoon and evening with them.’
    â€˜Can I? You
said
I could. Don’t take it back.’
    â€˜O.K.’
    â€˜And you’ll let me buy a new dress so I won’t look like a dog when I see them? Nothing expensive, just something new, something under fifty dollars.’
    â€˜O.K.’
    â€˜And you’ll come downstairs and stay with the kids so I can go to the beauty parlour?’
    â€˜O.K.’
    â€˜I mean, now. My appointment’s for eleven and it’s already ten after.’
    â€˜When did you make it?’
    â€˜Half an hour ago.’
    â€˜Why? You’ve got to get the kids their lunch and get them in bed for their naps.’
    â€˜Oh, won’t you do it for me, just this once?’
    â€˜Why not make the appointment for tomorrow when they’re napping, the way you always do once a week when you go to the beauty parlour?’
    â€˜Well, after I’m finished at the beauty parlour I thought I’d buy the dress. I don’t have to have cash for it. I’ll charge it.’
    â€˜O.K., let’s have it. What are you trying to tell me?’
    â€˜They’ll be here tomorrow morning. I telephoned and told them to go to the Fairmont because …’
    â€˜The kids are sick?’
    â€˜I just couldn’t tell them you were working. They’d never understand. And Rosey
has
a running nose.’
    â€˜O.K.’
    They went downstairs to the lower flat.
    â€˜Could you let me have some money for the taxi and beauty parlour?’
    â€˜O.K.’
    He gave her two tens and a five, but she wanted more, so he gave her another ten. The doorbell rang and when he opened it he saw that it was a taxi-driver. The woman kissed him and said, ‘About five, I guess, but maybe a little later.’
    â€˜O.K.’
    He went to the kitchen and looked into the refrigerator to see what might be possible for their lunch, and then into the cupboard, the vegetable bin, and everywhere that food was kept. There wasn’t much, but there was enough. He’d give them breakfast again, or some soup out of a can, and mashed potatoes. The back door was open but he couldn’t hear them fighting, so he went out on to the steps and saw that they were lying under an army blanket talking quietly and looking up, either at the sky or at the top of their house or at the houses all around or at nothing. The neighbour on the left, Turandi Turanda, was working quietly in his vegetable garden. Either they had already had their fun with him or they hadn’t noticed that he had stepped out of his house, for they always talked with him, the boy climbing the fence and hanging on to see over it, the girl getting up on an apple box to look over and watch and talk, too.
    He stepped back into the kitchen and began to peel the potatoes. By the time they were boiling he heardthe three of them talking. The man was more or less retired, a plasterer by trade, so he spent a lot of time in his garden, and he either liked the kids or put up with them because they were always there and there was nothing he could do about it. Sometimes he lifted the little girl and walked around with her in his garden and the boy hoisted himself over the fence and let himself down, falling part of the way, and skinning his hands a little. They seemed to be friends, the three of them, and the man’s wife (whenever she came out into the yard) talked with them and admired the girl and teased the boy about putting him in a hole in the ground. But it was all play, and the boy only hollered at her because he knew she would never put him in a hole in the ground.
    Their voices grew louder, so he stepped to the door to see what it was about.