Read Online Strange Sisters by Fletcher Flora - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Fletcher Flora
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her mind the thought that she would one day also wish never to think of Jacqueline again, and that when she did so, it would be with sickness and regret and self-recrimination.
But that was not true. She would not permit it to be true. For Jacqueline was far more than Vera had ever been. She was, indeed, far more than herself. She was hope. She was salvation. She was absolution in a cocktail lounge. If only, that is, one could ever arrive at the time and the place. If only one could sleep quietly through the threatening interim.
Then she became aware that the terminus of her line of vision past the cast-iron man was a narrow store on the street beyond. Her eyes adjusted to the distance and focused, picking out details. Behind dirty glass was an upright cardboard figure of a girl in a very brief swimming suit, two scraps of white cloth barely breaking the continuity of golden skin. Above the girl's head was a glaring sun with long spears of flame flaring from its circumference to show how hot it was. The girl's skin remained so beautifully golden under the blistering sun because she used a certain kind of lotion which was spelled out below in cool color. Across the top of the window in flaked letters was the claim that prescriptions were carefully compounded.
A drug store. A shabby, struggling drug store that looked as if it wouldn't let a small point of ethics interfere with a sale. After all, plenty of places must sell barbiturates without prescriptions. She was almost certain of that There was so much of it around in one form or another.
Without thinking any more about it, because she had already sat and thought too long, she got up and crossed the park and the street beyond and went into the drug store. Inside, the store was shadowy and cool and cluttered, scented with the mixed emissions of fountain flavors. The only light was that which filtered in from the street through the dirty display window and two smaller side windows near the ceiling. At first she thought that there was no one present but herself, but then she heard a staccato voice behind the partition at the rear that divided the store into front and back portions. The voice had a cultivated professional vigor, and after listening for a moment, she realized that it belonged to a radio news reporter. She listened a moment longer in frozen attention that possessed an element of terror, thinking that the reporter might be relating local events, that she might hear the name of Angus Brunn, but then she became aware that his remarks were international, and she walked on toward the source of the voice, her heels rapping sharply on the floor, the constriction in her chest slowly relaxing.
A man appeared in a doorway in the partition and moved forward to meet her. "Can I help you, miss?"
"Yes. I'd like some sleeping tablets, please."
He was a tall man, and he leaned forward and down a little to look at her. His face was long, the skin hanging loosely on its bone structure, and his eyes were small and dull and tired. Looking at her, he lifted one hand and took the tip of his nose between thumb and index finger, pinching it gently.
"Sleeping tablets require a prescription, you know."
"I know. I had a prescription, but I seem to have lost it. I'm sure it was nothing uncommon. Any kind of good tablet would do."
"Who was the doctor? I’ll call him and get the prescription for you."
"He's not here. Not in the city, I mean. I got the prescription out of town."
"That's too bad. Law says you have to have a doctor's prescription. Couldn't you get another one?*'
"I don't like to pay the fee. It seems so unnecessary, and I don't have money to waste."
"Sure. Don't blame you for feeling that way. Fees are pretty rough. For something simple like this, it'd probably be three minutes and three bucks." He released his nose and sighed. "Okay, miss. Maybe I can fix you up."
He walked back through the doorway in the partition. She could near him moving around behind the thin
But that was not true. She would not permit it to be true. For Jacqueline was far more than Vera had ever been. She was, indeed, far more than herself. She was hope. She was salvation. She was absolution in a cocktail lounge. If only, that is, one could ever arrive at the time and the place. If only one could sleep quietly through the threatening interim.
Then she became aware that the terminus of her line of vision past the cast-iron man was a narrow store on the street beyond. Her eyes adjusted to the distance and focused, picking out details. Behind dirty glass was an upright cardboard figure of a girl in a very brief swimming suit, two scraps of white cloth barely breaking the continuity of golden skin. Above the girl's head was a glaring sun with long spears of flame flaring from its circumference to show how hot it was. The girl's skin remained so beautifully golden under the blistering sun because she used a certain kind of lotion which was spelled out below in cool color. Across the top of the window in flaked letters was the claim that prescriptions were carefully compounded.
A drug store. A shabby, struggling drug store that looked as if it wouldn't let a small point of ethics interfere with a sale. After all, plenty of places must sell barbiturates without prescriptions. She was almost certain of that There was so much of it around in one form or another.
Without thinking any more about it, because she had already sat and thought too long, she got up and crossed the park and the street beyond and went into the drug store. Inside, the store was shadowy and cool and cluttered, scented with the mixed emissions of fountain flavors. The only light was that which filtered in from the street through the dirty display window and two smaller side windows near the ceiling. At first she thought that there was no one present but herself, but then she heard a staccato voice behind the partition at the rear that divided the store into front and back portions. The voice had a cultivated professional vigor, and after listening for a moment, she realized that it belonged to a radio news reporter. She listened a moment longer in frozen attention that possessed an element of terror, thinking that the reporter might be relating local events, that she might hear the name of Angus Brunn, but then she became aware that his remarks were international, and she walked on toward the source of the voice, her heels rapping sharply on the floor, the constriction in her chest slowly relaxing.
A man appeared in a doorway in the partition and moved forward to meet her. "Can I help you, miss?"
"Yes. I'd like some sleeping tablets, please."
He was a tall man, and he leaned forward and down a little to look at her. His face was long, the skin hanging loosely on its bone structure, and his eyes were small and dull and tired. Looking at her, he lifted one hand and took the tip of his nose between thumb and index finger, pinching it gently.
"Sleeping tablets require a prescription, you know."
"I know. I had a prescription, but I seem to have lost it. I'm sure it was nothing uncommon. Any kind of good tablet would do."
"Who was the doctor? I’ll call him and get the prescription for you."
"He's not here. Not in the city, I mean. I got the prescription out of town."
"That's too bad. Law says you have to have a doctor's prescription. Couldn't you get another one?*'
"I don't like to pay the fee. It seems so unnecessary, and I don't have money to waste."
"Sure. Don't blame you for feeling that way. Fees are pretty rough. For something simple like this, it'd probably be three minutes and three bucks." He released his nose and sighed. "Okay, miss. Maybe I can fix you up."
He walked back through the doorway in the partition. She could near him moving around behind the thin
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