Dance of the Happy Shades

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Authors: Alice Munro
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you see any other restaurant?”
    “No,” I said.
    “Any other town I ever been,” George said, “pigs hangin’ out the windows, practically hangin’ off the trees. Not here. Jesus! I guess it’s late in the season,” he said.
    “You want to go to a show?”
    The door opened. A girl came in, walked up and sat on a stool, with most of her skirt bunched up underneath her. She had a long somnolent face, no bust, frizzy hair; she was pale, almost ugly, but she had that inexplicable aura of sexuality. George brightened, though not a great deal. “Never mind,” he said. “This’ll do. This’ll do in a pinch, eh? In a pinch.”
    He went to the end of the counter and sat down beside her and started to talk. In about five minutes they came back to me, the girl drinking a bottle of orange pop.
    “This is Adelaide,” George said. “Adelaide, Adeline—Sweet Adeline. I’m going to call her Sweet A, Sweet A.”
    Adelaide sucked at her straw, paying not much attention.
    “She hasn’t got a date,” George said. “You haven’t got a date have you, honey?”
    Adelaide shook her head very slightly.
    “Doesn’t hear half what you say to her,” George said. “Adelaide, Sweet A, have you got any friends? Have you got any nice, young little girl friend to go out with Dickie? You and me and her and Dickie?”
    “Depends,” said Adelaide. “Where do you want to go?”
    “Anywhere you say. Go for a drive. Drive up to Owen Sound, maybe.”
    “You got a car?”
    “Yeah, yeah, we got a car. C’mon, you must have some nice little friend for Dickie.” He put his arm around this girl, spreading his fingers over her blouse. “C’mon out and I’ll show you the car.”
    Adelaide said: “I know one girl might come. The guy she goes around with, he’s engaged, and his girl came up and she’s staying at his place up the beach, his mother and dad’s place, and—”
    “Well that is certainly int-er-esting,” George said. “What’s her name? Come on, let’s go round and get her. You want to sit around drinking pop all night?”
    “I’m finished,” Adelaide said. “She might not come. I don’t know.”
    “Why not? Her mother not let her out nights?”
    “Oh, she can do what she likes,” said Adelaide. “Only there’s times she don’t want to. I don’t know.”
    We went out and got into the car, George and Adelaide in the back. On the main street about a block from the cafe we passed a thin, fair-haired girl in slacks and Adelaide cried: “Hey stop! That’s her! That’s Lois!”
    I pulled in and George stuck his head out of the window, whistling. Adelaide yelled, and the girl came unhesitatingly, unhurriedly to the car. She smiled, rather coldly and politely, when Adelaide explained to her. All the time George kept saying: “Hurry up, come on, get in! We can talk in the car.” The girl smiled, did not really look at any of us, and in a fewmoments, to my surprise, she opened the door and slid into the car.
    “I don’t have anything to do,” she said. “My boyfriend’s away.”
    “That so?” said George, and I saw Adelaide, in the rear-vision mirror, make a cross warning face. Lois did not seem to have heard him.
    “We better drive around to my house,” she said. “I was just going down to get some Cokes, that’s why I only have my slacks on. We better drive around to my house and I’ll put on something else.”
    “Where are we going to go,” she said, “so I know what to put on?”
    I said: “Where do you want to go?”
    “Okay, okay,” George said. “First things first. We gotta get a bottle, then we’ll decide. You know where to get one?” Adelaide and Lois both said yes, and then Lois said to me: “You can come in the house and wait while I change, if you want to.” I glanced in the rear mirror and thought that there was probably some agreement she had with Adelaide.
    Lois’s house had an old couch on the porch and some rugs hanging down over the railing. She walked ahead of me

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