Read Online Rose Madder by Stephen King - Free Book Online Page A

lesbians? You ast the wrong chicken, baby girl. I got no use for crack-snackers. Get lost. The fuck outta here.” With that she turned back to her dolly and began to push the rattling cans up the driveway in the same slow,ceremonial manner, holding them on with one plump white hand. Her buttocks jiggled freely beneath her faded housedress. When she reached the steps she turned and looked back at the sidewalk. “Didn’t you hear me? Get the fuck outta here. ’Fore I call the cops.”
    That last word felt like a sharp pinch in a sensitive place. Rosie put her sunglasses back on and walked quickly away. Cops? No thank you. She wanted nothing to do with the cops. Any cops. But after she had put a little distance between herself and the fat lady, Rosie realized she actually felt a little better. She had at least made sure that Daughters and Sisters (known in some quarters as the welfare lesbians) actually existed, and that was a step in the right direction.
    Two blocks farther down, she came to a mom-and-pop store with a bike rack in front and a sign reading OVEN-FRESH ROLLS in the window. She went in, bought a roll—it was still warm and made Rosie think of her mother—and asked the old man behind the counter if he could direct her to Durham Avenue.
    â€œYou come a little out of your way,” he said.
    â€œOh? How much?”
    â€œTwo mile or so. C’mere.”
    He settled a bony hand on her shoulder, led her back to the door, and pointed to a busy intersection only a block away. “That there’s Dearborn Avenue.”
    â€œOh God, is it?” Rosie wasn’t sure if she needed to laugh or cry.
    â€œYessum. Only trouble with findin things by way of Big D is that she run mostway across the city. You see that shutdown movie tee-ayter?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou want to turn right onto Dearborn there. You have to go sixteen-eighteen blocks. It’s a bit of a heel n toe. You’d best take the bus.”
    â€œI suppose,” Rosie said, knowing she wouldn’t. Her quarters were gone, and if a bus driver gave her a hard time about breaking a dollar bill, she would burst into tears. (The thought that the man she was talking to would have happily given her change for a buck never crossed her tired, confused mind.)
    â€œEventually you’ll come to—”
    â€œâ€”Elk Street.”
    He gave her a look of exasperation. “Lady! If you knew how to go, why’d you ask?”
    â€œI didn’t know how to go,” she said, and although there had been nothing particularly unkind in the old man’s voice, she could feel the tears threatening. “I don’t know anything ! I’ve been wandering around for hours, I’m tired, and—”
    â€œOkay, okay,” he said, “that’s all right, don’t get your water hot, you’ll be just fine. Get off the bus at Elk. Durham is just two or three blocks up. Easy as pie. You got a street address?”
    She nodded her head.
    â€œAll right, there you go,” he said. “Should be no problem.”
    â€œThank you.”
    He pulled a wrinkled but clean handkerchief from his back pocket. He held it out to her with one gnarled hand. “Wipe you face a li’l bit, dear,” he said. “You leakin.”
5
    S he walked slowly up Dearborn Avenue, barely noticing the buses that snored past her, resting every block or two on bus stop benches. Her headache, which had come mostly from the stress of being lost, was gone, but her feet and back hurt worse than ever. It took her an hour to get to Elk Street. She turned right on it and asked the first person she saw—a young pregnant woman—if she was headed toward Durham Avenue.
    â€œBuzz off,” the young pregnant woman said, her face so instantly wrathful that Rosie took two quick steps backward.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Rosie said.
    â€œSorry, schmorry. Who ast you to speak to me in the first place,