Read Online Place in the City by Howard Fast - Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t home at night, because no matter how well they knew how to take care of themselves, they were still kids. But she had worried before without trembling like this.
    The truth was that she was no longer young. In this racket, you had to be young; but you grew old quickly. The thing to do was to put away as much money as you could, and hope for the best. In a year, if she didn’t get sick, she would have enough, and then she would be able to take the kids away somewhere. If only they never found out, life might begin again after that.
    Back at the window, she looked out at the night and the snow. Something about snow made you want to take hold of it, plunge yourself deep into it. It was cleansing. Maybe there was some kind of snow that could cleanse your soul, after long lines of men had taken it away from you and made it rotten. The cigarette fell to the floor.
    Picking it up, she looked at her white hand. “Careless of me,” she muttered. “I guess I got to take a grip on myself. Geesus, I wish I had a drink. I’ll ask Timy. I wish I was with the kids tonight.”
    She felt hot, close; little beads of sweat appeared on the back of her hands, and she felt that she was choking. Opening a window, she breathed deeply. The cold night air rushed in like a tonic.
    â€œDot’s enuff, sister,” someone said.
    She whirled about. Kraus was standing there with a tray of food. He opened the dishes, and set them upon the table for her. Then he motioned to her.
    â€œFeed up. You’ll need id.”
    Stamping out the cigarette, she sat down at the table; but she had no appetite, and the first mouthful of food tasted dry and bitter. Kraus went out, to return in a moment with a glass of beer.
    â€œGet me a drink,” she told him.
    â€œVy not?” He smiled until his face was like a moon. He went out, and he was back in a moment with a bottle of rye. She poured herself a stiff drink, gulped it; she was thankful for the way it burned her throat.
    Well, her nerve was gone—all gone. Her hand with the glass in it shook, and when she set it down, she was afraid to look up at Kraus. No, there was no denying that she was too old. Very slowly, she turned her eyes to Kraus, who was bending over the table, upon which he leaned with both his hands.
    â€œGet away,” she said. “Get out of here and let me eat. I don’t need you.”
    â€œYeah, get out,” Timy told him from the door. “She don’t want you, Dutch. Go take a walk for yourself.”
    â€œAll right, Timy.”
    When Kraus left, Timy pulled up a chair and lit a fresh cigar. He glanced at the open window, hesitated, then walked over and closed it. Chewing on his cigar, he turned and looked steadily at Mary White. For only a moment, she returned his gaze; then she avoided his eyes and made another attempt to eat. Reaching back, Timy squeezed some of the wet snow that had blown through onto the sill between his fingers; then he wiped the wet fingers on his pants.
    â€œGeesus Christ,” he muttered.
    Then he sat down at the table again. “Go ahead and eat, sister,” he nodded, “it’s on the house.”
    â€œI’m not hungry.”
    â€œYou ain’t no chicken. Say—you been in this long?”
    â€œSince my husband died. It seems like a long time now—it seems like all my life.”
    â€œYeah—it’s a tough racket, ain’t it? It ain’t no cinch. Well, you just pull along tonight, and I’ll make it worth your while, see? I’ll give you something on the side, along with what you get from Shutzey.”
    She wondered how he sat there, talking like that; as if they were two people, which they obviously were not. Timy was a man, but she was a commodity, bought and sold. It was curious that she could speak at all. Inside, she was numb, cold, just as if the coldness of the night had crept deep into her, so deep that she would never be able to root