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

it out. But she didn’t care any more; she was all shot to hell.
    Timy sat there staring at her, round and healthy as a baby. His fat cheeks were pink, and his little mustache was yellow. It curled up, and the ends were waxed; and his lips were as red as if they had been rouged. When he smiled, his teeth were china white. He was altogether a round, healthy image of a man.
    â€œGo ahead and eat, sister,” he said again; it seemed that he had to say something.
    She pushed the food away and tried to light a cigarette, but she couldn’t strike a match without flicking it out. Timy leaned over and lit it for her.
    â€œThanks,” she said.
    â€œDon’t mention it. I’m going now, but you just stay here until I come back. There won’t nobody throw you, so don’t you be afraid. Just sit tight, and you can drink as much out of that bottle as you want to. It’s all on the house.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAwright. Take it easy.”
    Alone, the minutes dragged past; the cigarette butts made a little heap in the ash tray; higher and higher, and still her hands trembled: and the room filled with a haze of blue smoke. How could she breath in that? Maybe—if she had another drink—But she had two already, and she didn’t want to be drunk. She needed air, fresh air.
    Why should tonight be any different from another night, she wondered. Why should it matter what they did with her, when she had always been something to buy and sell. She could take anything to her by this time. A man was a man. When it was over, he might laugh at you, beat you or kiss you. What difference did it make?
    Anyway, she poured herself another drink. Do what she might, think what she might, she was afraid. No getting away from that. Tonight she was afraid, a bundle of nerves, all of them with raw, jagged ends. Soon, if this kept up, she would be living in a nightmare. Men, men, men—Peering with red eyes through the smoke, it seemed to her that there was a long line of them, a line that was as endless as it was still and waiting; each waiting for his turn and trembling just a little. They would tear out her insides; they would leave an empty shell, and still they would come on.
    Once it had been different. The first time—well, she could hardly remember the first time. But if it had been beautiful the first time, she had forgotten. Peter came. What had being a mother to do with the long line of men, all waiting?
    Peter and Sasha—For a little while she cried, but then she dried her face, shook her head and stumbled to her feet. For no good reason, she was making a wreck of herself. Her nerve was gone, but still—
    Outside, the wind was blowing, the snow whirling like smoke against the window. The touch of the window was cold and good against her face; there was a blessing in it, and cool relief.
    Inch by inch, she raised the window, until the full blast of the wind swept against her bosom and face. She didn’t know how long she stood there like that; she stood there until they called her.
    Snookie Eagen put his head in the door. “C’mon, sister,” he said.
    â€œAwright,” she smiled.
    His eyes took in the bottle on the table; the room was full of a rank smell, smoke and whisky.
    â€œYou tight?” he wanted to know.
    â€œNo, I ain’t.”
    â€œC’mon.”

J OHN EDWARDS dressed himself, carefully; it was an experience. With each movement, he was conscious of the new life that had been granted him. The weakness was gone. Many things were gone, but the great triumph lay in the fact that he no longer pitied himself. Now, with a calm and knowing smile, he could look back on the wretched thing that had been John Edwards.
    â€œPoetry,” he whispered—“you wanted to write, to make songs; but what did you know of songs? of any song?”
    He laughed—the first, full, hearty laugh he had known for months. Inside of him, he could feel the song,