thought.
No. It wasn’t her enchantment with Jonathan that kept her from noticing another man. It was her disenchantment with herself.
The class ended—finally. Pat was clearly exhausted, sitting down immediately behind the desk. Catherine hovered close by, watching out of the corner of her eye and knowing better than to approach her.
“You know what’s wrong with me?” Pat said after a time.
“Tell me.”
“I had to ask Don for money. I had to ask Don Bauer for goddamn money!”
“Pat . . .”
“Be careful, Catherine!” Pat warned. “You know the deal. I get to say whatever I want.” She grabbed up her books and papers, not taking the time to shove them into her briefcase. She dropped her purse as she went through the doorway, but Catherine made no effort to help her pick it up. She knew the deal only too well, and she meant to keep her part of it. Pat had wanted someone with whom she didn’t have to be optimistic and brave. And Catherine Holben was it. It was a very difficult job.
“Pat,” Catherine called before she disappeared down the hallway, and she looked back over her shoulder. “I think you’d better work on your fantasies, too.”
She made no reply, and Catherine could hear the echoing of her heels down the long hallway. She went back to the desk and began to sort through her papers.
“Ms. Holben?”
Catherine looked up. Maria was standing in the doorway.
“You said you wanted to talk to me.”
Maria had her thumbs hooked in the bib of her overalls, and her tone of voice suggested fully the burden she considered this to be.
“Yes. I do.”
“I said I ain’t got nothing I want to talk about.”
“You don’t have to talk. What you do is listen. I want you to lay off Sasha and Abby. Cherry, too, while you’re at it.”
“They get on my nerves.”
“They do not get on your nerves, Maria. What gets on your nerves is that you got caught again. You took no responsibility for your behavior, and now you’re pregnant and you’re stuck with it and you want to take it out on somebody who’ll let you do it.”
“I can’t help how my nerves are,” she said sullenly.
“Then why don’t you jump on Beatrice? Somehow she never gets on your nerves, does she? All of you have got a hard time ahead of you, and I don’t want you making it any worse.”
“What do you know, anyway? You ain’t never had no baby!”
“Who delivered your last baby, Maria?” Catherine said sharply.
She didn’t answer.
“Who? A man doctor or a woman?”
“A man.”
“Did he know what he was doing?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And how many babies had he had, Maria? Personally, I mean. How many times had he lain on his back in labor and pushed out a baby? I know what I’m doing—just like he does. I don’t do this for fun, and I don’t do it for the money. You think I stand in this hot place every day for the salary? I do it for you . I know what you need, and by the time your baby’s born, you’re going to know what I know. Now go home.”
Maria stood looking at her.
“Go!”
She flounced out of the room, and Catherine wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand.
“Damn!” she said under her breath.
“What’s going on in here?” one of the secretaries from the front office said from the doorway.
“Nothing—except I’ve been here too long.”
“We were afraid you might need some help.”
“No, everything’s under control,” Catherine said. She began to gather up her things. She had paperwork to do, but she left the papers on the desk. She’d dealt with enough aggravation in the last twenty-four hours, and she was going home.
She took a different route to the Mayfair, stopping long enough at an old fashioned grocery in one of the downtown stores to buy a few things, but she didn’t look into the front window of The Purple Box while she waited for the next bus. She arrived at her apartment building shortly after six, wilted from the heat and tired in
No. It wasn’t her enchantment with Jonathan that kept her from noticing another man. It was her disenchantment with herself.
The class ended—finally. Pat was clearly exhausted, sitting down immediately behind the desk. Catherine hovered close by, watching out of the corner of her eye and knowing better than to approach her.
“You know what’s wrong with me?” Pat said after a time.
“Tell me.”
“I had to ask Don for money. I had to ask Don Bauer for goddamn money!”
“Pat . . .”
“Be careful, Catherine!” Pat warned. “You know the deal. I get to say whatever I want.” She grabbed up her books and papers, not taking the time to shove them into her briefcase. She dropped her purse as she went through the doorway, but Catherine made no effort to help her pick it up. She knew the deal only too well, and she meant to keep her part of it. Pat had wanted someone with whom she didn’t have to be optimistic and brave. And Catherine Holben was it. It was a very difficult job.
“Pat,” Catherine called before she disappeared down the hallway, and she looked back over her shoulder. “I think you’d better work on your fantasies, too.”
She made no reply, and Catherine could hear the echoing of her heels down the long hallway. She went back to the desk and began to sort through her papers.
“Ms. Holben?”
Catherine looked up. Maria was standing in the doorway.
“You said you wanted to talk to me.”
Maria had her thumbs hooked in the bib of her overalls, and her tone of voice suggested fully the burden she considered this to be.
“Yes. I do.”
“I said I ain’t got nothing I want to talk about.”
“You don’t have to talk. What you do is listen. I want you to lay off Sasha and Abby. Cherry, too, while you’re at it.”
“They get on my nerves.”
“They do not get on your nerves, Maria. What gets on your nerves is that you got caught again. You took no responsibility for your behavior, and now you’re pregnant and you’re stuck with it and you want to take it out on somebody who’ll let you do it.”
“I can’t help how my nerves are,” she said sullenly.
“Then why don’t you jump on Beatrice? Somehow she never gets on your nerves, does she? All of you have got a hard time ahead of you, and I don’t want you making it any worse.”
“What do you know, anyway? You ain’t never had no baby!”
“Who delivered your last baby, Maria?” Catherine said sharply.
She didn’t answer.
“Who? A man doctor or a woman?”
“A man.”
“Did he know what he was doing?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And how many babies had he had, Maria? Personally, I mean. How many times had he lain on his back in labor and pushed out a baby? I know what I’m doing—just like he does. I don’t do this for fun, and I don’t do it for the money. You think I stand in this hot place every day for the salary? I do it for you . I know what you need, and by the time your baby’s born, you’re going to know what I know. Now go home.”
Maria stood looking at her.
“Go!”
She flounced out of the room, and Catherine wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand.
“Damn!” she said under her breath.
“What’s going on in here?” one of the secretaries from the front office said from the doorway.
“Nothing—except I’ve been here too long.”
“We were afraid you might need some help.”
“No, everything’s under control,” Catherine said. She began to gather up her things. She had paperwork to do, but she left the papers on the desk. She’d dealt with enough aggravation in the last twenty-four hours, and she was going home.
She took a different route to the Mayfair, stopping long enough at an old fashioned grocery in one of the downtown stores to buy a few things, but she didn’t look into the front window of The Purple Box while she waited for the next bus. She arrived at her apartment building shortly after six, wilted from the heat and tired in
Similar Books
