Short Cuts Read online

  “Make yourself comfortable while I go across the hall,” she said. “Read the paper or something.” She closed her fingers over the key. He was, she said, looking tired.

  He tried to concentrate on the news. He read the paper and turned on the television. Finally he went across the hall. The door was locked.

  “It’s me. Are you still there, honey?” he called.

  After a time the lock released and Arlene stepped outside and shut the door. “Was I gone so long?” she said.

  “Well, you were,” he said.

  “Was I?” she said. “I guess I must have been playing with Kitty.”

  He studied her, and she looked away, her hand still resting on the doorknob.

  “It’s funny,” she said. “You know – to go in someone’s place like that.”

  He nodded, took her hand from the knob, and guided her toward their own door. He let them into their apartment.

  “It is funny,” he said.

  He noticed white lint clinging to the back of her sweater, and the color was high in her cheeks. He began kissing her on the neck and hair and she turned and kissed him back.

  “Oh, damn,” she said. “Damn, damn,” she sang, girlishly clapping her hands. “I just remembered. I really and truly forgot to do what I went over there to do. I didn’t feed Kitty or do any watering.” She looked at him. “Isn’t that stupid?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “Just a minute. I’ll get my cigarettes and go back with you.”

  She waited until he had closed and locked their door, and then she took his arm at the muscle and said. “I guess I should tell you. I found some pictures.”

  He stopped in the middle of the hall. “What kind of pictures?”

  “You can see for yourself,” she said, and she watched him.

  “No kidding.” He grinned. “Where?”

  “In a drawer,” she said.

  “No kidding,” he said.

  And then she said, “Maybe they won’t come back,” and was at once astonished at her words.

  “It could happen,” he said. “Anything could happen.”

  “Or maybe they’ll come back and …” but she did not finish.

  They held hands for the short walk across the hall, and when he spoke she could barely hear his voice.

  “The key,” he said. “Give it to me.”

  “What?” she said. She gazed at the door.

  “The key,” he said. “You have the key.”

  “My God,” she said, “I left the key inside.”

  He tried the knob. It was locked. Then she tried the knob. It would not turn. Her lips were parted, and her breathing was hard, expectant. He opened his arms and she moved into them.

  “Don’t worry,” he said into her ear. “For God’s sake, don’t worry.”

  They stayed there. They held each other. They leaned into the door as if against a wind, and braced themselves.

  They’re Not Your Husband

  EARL OBER WAS BETWEEN JOBS as a salesman. But Doreen, his wife, had gone to work nights as a waitress at a twenty-four-hour coffee shop at the edge of town. One night, when he was drinking, Earl decided to stop by the coffee shop and have something to eat. He wanted to see where Doreen worked, and he wanted to see if he could order something on the house.

  He sat at the counter and studied the menu.

  “What are you doing here?” Doreen said when she saw him sitting there.

  She handed over an order to the cook. “What are you going to order, Earl?” she said. “The kids okay?”

  “They’re fine,” Earl said. “I’ll have coffee and one of those Number Two sandwiches.”

  Doreen wrote it down.

  “Any chance of, you know?” he said to her and winked.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t talk to me now. I’m busy.”

  Earl drank his coffee and waited for the sandwich. Two men in business suits, their ties undone, their collars open, sat down next to him and asked for coffee. As Doreen walked away with the coffeepot, one of the men said to the other, “Look at the ass on that. I don’t believe it.”

  The other man laughed. “I’ve seen better,” he said.

  “That’s what I mean,” the first man said. “But some jokers like their quim fat.”

  “Not me,” the other man said.

  “Not me, neither,” the first man said. “That’s what I was saying.”

  Doreen put the sandwich in front of Earl. Around the sandwich there were French fries, coleslaw, dill pickle.

  “Anything else?” she said. “A glass of milk?”

  He didn’t say anything. He shook his head when she kept standing there.

  “I’ll get you more coffee,” she said.

  She came back with the pot and poured coffee for him and for the two men. Then she picked up a dish and turned to get some ice cream. She reached down into the container and with the dipper began to scoop up the ice cream. The white skirt yanked against her hips and crawled up her legs. What showed was girdle, and it was pink, thighs that were rumpled and gray and a little hairy, and veins that spread in a berserk display.

  The two men sitting beside Earl exchanged looks. One of them raised his eyebrows. The other man grinned and kept looking at Doreen over his cup as she spooned chocolate syrup over the ice cream. When she began shaking the can of whipped cream, Earl got up, leaving his food, and headed for the door. He heard her call his name, but he kept going.

  He checked on the children and then went to the other bedroom and took off his clothes. He pulled the covers up, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to think. The feeling started in his face and worked down into his stomach and legs. He opened his eyes and rolled his head back and forth on the pillow. Then he turned on his side and fell asleep.

  In the morning, after she had sent the children off to school, Doreen came into the bedroom and raised the shade. Earl was already awake.

  “Look at yourself in the mirror,” he said.

  “What?” she said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just look at yourself in the mirror,” he said.

  “What am I supposed to see?” she said. But she looked in the mirror over the dresser and pushed the hair away from her shoulders.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Well, what?” she said.

  “I hate to say anything,” Earl said, “but I think you better give a diet some thought. I mean it. I’m serious. I think you could lose a few pounds. Don’t get mad.”

  “What are you saying?” she said.

  “Just what I said. I think you could lose a few pounds. A few pounds, anyway,” he said.

  “You never said anything before,” she said. She raised her nightgown over her hips and turned to look at her stomach in the mirror.

  “I never felt it was a problem before,” he said. He tried to pick his words.

  The nightgown still gathered around her waist, Doreen turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. She raised one buttock in her hand and let it drop.

  Earl closed his eyes. “Maybe I’m all wet,” he said.

  “I guess I could afford to lose. But it’d be hard,” she said.

  “You’re right, it won’t be easy,” he said. “But I’ll help.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said. She dropped her nightgown and looked at him and then she took her nightgown off.

  They talked about diets. They talked about the protein diets, the vegetable-only diets, the grapefruit-juice diets. But they decided they didn’t have the money to buy the steaks the protein diet called for. And Doreen said she didn’t care for all that many vegetables. And since she didn’t like grapefruit juice that much, she didn’t see how she could do that one, either.

  “Okay, forget it,” he said.

  “No, you’re right,” she said. “I’ll do something.”

  “What about exercises?” he said.

  “I’m getting all the exercise I need down there,” she said.

  “Just qui
t eating,” Earl said. “For a few days, anyway.”

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll try. For a few days I’ll give it a try. You’ve convinced me.”

  “I’m a closer,” Earl said.

  He figured up the balance in their checking account, then drove to the discount store and bought a bathroom scale. He looked the clerk over as she rang up the sale.

  At home he had Doreen take off all her clothes and get on the scale. He frowned when he saw the veins. He ran his finger the length of one that sprouted up her thigh.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  He looked at the scale and wrote the figure down on a piece of paper.

  “All right,” Earl said. “All right.”

  The next day he was gone for most of the afternoon on an interview. The employer, a heavyset man who limped as he showed Earl around the plumbing fixtures in the warehouse, asked if Earl were free to travel.

  “You bet I’m free,” Earl said.

  The man nodded.

  Earl smiled.

  He could hear the television before he opened the door to the house. The children did not look up as he walked through the living room. In the kitchen, Doreen, dressed for work, was eating scrambled eggs and bacon.

  “What are you doing?” Earl said.

  She continued to chew the food, cheeks puffed. But then she spit everything into a napkin.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” she said.

  “Slob,” Earl said. “Go ahead, eat! Go on!” He went to the bedroom, closed the door, and lay on the covers. He could still hear the television. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

  She opened the door.

  “I’m going to try again,” Doreen said.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Two mornings later she called him into the bathroom. “Look,” she said.

  He read the scale. He opened a drawer and took out the paper and read the scale again while she grinned.

  “Three-quarters of a pound,” she said.

  “It’s something,” he said and patted her hip.

  He read the classifieds. He went to the state employment office. Every three or four days he drove someplace for an interview, and at night he counted her tips. He smoothed out the dollar bills on the table and stacked the nickels, dimes, and quarters in piles of one dollar each. Each morning he put her on the scale.

  In two weeks she had lost three and a half pounds.

  “I pick,” she said. “I starve myself all day, and then I pick at work. It adds up.”

  But a week later she had lost five pounds. The week after that, nine and a half pounds. Her clothes were loose on her. She had to cut into the rent money to buy a new uniform.

  “People are saying things at work,” she said.

  “What kind of things?” Earl said.

  “That I’m too pale, for one thing,” she said. “That I don’t look like myself. They’re afraid I’m losing too much weight.”

  “What is wrong with losing?” he said. “Don’t you pay any attention to them. Tell them to mind their own business. They’re not your husband. You don’t have to live with them.”

  “I have to work with them,” Doreen said.

  “That’s right,” Earl said. “But they’re not your husband.”

  Each morning he followed her into the bathroom and waited while she stepped onto the scale. He got down on his knees with a pencil and the piece of paper. The paper was covered with dates, days of the week, numbers. He read the number on the scale, consulted the paper, and either nodded his head or pursed his lips.

  Doreen spent more time in bed now. She went back to bed after the children had left for school, and she napped in the afternoons before going to work. Earl helped around the house, watched television, and let her sleep. He did all the shopping, and once in a while he went on an interview.

  One night he put the children to bed, turned off the television, and decided to go for a few drinks. When the bar closed, he drove to the coffee shop.

  He sat at the counter and waited. When she saw him, she said, “Kids okay?”

  Earl nodded.

  He took his time ordering. He kept looking at her as she moved up and down behind the counter. He finally ordered a cheeseburger. She gave the order to the cook and went to wait on someone else.

  Another waitress came by with a coffeepot and filled Earl’s cup.

  “Who’s your friend?” he said and nodded at his wife.

  “Her name’s Doreen,” the waitress said.

  “She looks a lot different than the last time I was in here,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t know,” the waitress said.

  He ate the cheeseburger and drank the coffee. People kept sitting down and getting up at the counter. Doreen waited on most of the people at the counter, though now and then the other waitress came along to take an order. Earl watched his wife and listened carefully. Twice he had to leave his place to go to the bathroom. Each time he wondered if he might have missed hearing something. When he came back the second time, he found his cup gone and someone in his place. He took a stool at the end of the counter next to an older man in a striped shirt.

  “What do you want?” Doreen said to Earl when she saw him again. “Shouldn’t you be home?”

  “Give me some coffee,” he said.

  The man next to Earl was reading a newspaper. He looked up and watched Doreen pour Earl a cup of coffee. He glanced at Doreen as she walked away. Then he went back to his newspaper.

  Earl sipped his coffee and waited for the man to say something. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye. The man had finished eating and his plate was pushed to the side. The man lit a cigarette, folded the newspaper in front of him, and continued to read.

  Doreen came by and removed the dirty plate and poured the man more coffee.

  “What do you think of that?” Earl said to the man, nodding at Doreen as she moved down the counter. “Don’t you think that’s something special?”

  The man looked up. He looked at Doreen and then at Earl, and then went back to his newspaper.

  “Well, what do you think?” Earl said. “I’m asking. Does it look good or not? Tell me.”

  The man rattled the newspaper.

  When Doreen started down the counter again, Earl nudged the man’s shoulder and said, “I’m telling you something. Listen. Look at the ass on her. Now you watch this now. Could I have a chocolate sundae?” Earl called to Doreen.

  She stopped in front of him and let out her breath. Then she turned and picked up a dish and the ice-cream dipper. She leaned over the freezer, reached down, and began to press the dipper into the ice cream. Earl looked at the man and winked as Doreen’s skirt traveled up her thighs. But the man’s eyes caught the eyes of the other waitress. And then the man put the newspaper under his arm and reached into his pocket.

  The other waitress came straight to Doreen. “Who is this character?” she said.

  “Who?” Doreen said and looked around with the ice-cream dish in her hand.

  “Him,” the other waitress said and nodded at Earl. “Who is this joker, anyway?”

  Earl put on his best smile. He held it. He held it until he felt his face pulling out of shape.

  But the other waitress just studied him, and Doreen began to shake her head slowly. The man had put some change beside his cup and stood up, but he too waited to hear the answer. They all stared at Earl.

  “He’s a salesman. He’s my husband,” Doreen said at last, shrugging. Then she put the unfinished chocolate sundae in front of him and went to total up his check.

  Vitamins

  I HAD A JOB and Patti didn’t. I worked a few hours a night for the hospital. It was a nothing job. I did some work, signed the card for eight hours, went drinking with the nurses. After a while, Patti wanted a job. She said she needed a job for her self-respect. So she started selling multiple vitamins door to door.

  For a while, sh
e was just another girl who went up and down blocks in strange neighborhoods, knocking on doors. But she learned the ropes. She was quick and had excelled at things in school. She had personality. Pretty soon the company gave her a promotion. Some of the girls who weren’t doing so hot were put to work under her. Before long, she had herself a crew and a little office out in the mall. But the girls who worked for her were always changing. Some would quit after a couple of days – after a couple of hours, sometimes. But sometimes there were girls who were good at it. They could sell vitamins. These were the girls that stuck with Patti. They formed the core of the crew. But there were girls who couldn’t give away vitamins.

  The girls who couldn’t cut it would just quit. Just not show up for work. If they had a phone, they’d take it off the hook. They wouldn’t answer the door. Patti took these losses to heart, like the girls were new converts who had lost their way. She blamed herself. But she got over it. There were too many not to get over it.

  Once in a while a girl would freeze and not be able to push the doorbell. Or maybe she’d get to the door and something would happen to her voice. Or she’d get the greeting mixed up with something she shouldn’t be saying until she got inside. A girl like this, she’d decide to pack it in, take the sample case, head for the car, hang around until Patti and the others finished. There’d be a conference. Then they’d all ride back to the office. They’d say things to buck themselves up. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” And, “Do the right things and the right things will happen.” Things like that.

  Sometimes a girl just disappeared in the field, sample case and all. She’d hitch a ride into town, then beat it. But there were always girls to take her place. Girls were coming and going in those days. Patti had a list. Every few weeks she’d run a little ad in The Pennysaver. There’d be more girls and more training. There was no end of girls.

  The core group was made up of Patti, Donna, and Sheila. Patti was a looker. Donna and Sheila were only medium-pretty. One night this Sheila said to Patti that she loved her more than anything on earth. Patti told me these were the words. Patti had driven Sheila home and they were sitting in front of Sheila’s place. Patti said to Sheila she loved her, too. Patti said to Sheila she loved all her girls. But not in the way Sheila had in mind. Then Sheila touched Patti’s breast. Patti said she took Sheila’s hand and held it. She said she told her she didn’t swing that way. She said Sheila didn’t bat an eye, that she only nodded, held on to Patti’s hand, kissed it, and got out of the car.