Dreams Are Not Enough by Jacqueline Briskin Read Free Book Online Page A

wetback chippy and tells us he’s married to her. What the hell does he expect us to say?”
    Barry had inherited a small share of the family temper, and at this moment, brown eyes glaring, thin shoulders hunched, the normally invisible resemblance between him and his father showed.
    “Something along the lines of good wishes and congratulations.”
    “For that, buster, you have to get married properly!”
    “Like you and Mom did?”
    A rumble came from Tim’s chest as he took a step toward his son.
    Clara’s hand pressed tighter against her flat bosom.
    “Please don’t the two of you start again.”
    “What do you mean, again?” Tim demanded.
    “When has this snotnose ever brought home a pachuco tramp that he’s married to?”
    “Come on, Alicia,” Barry said tightly.
    “We’re getting out of here.”
    The Cordiners’ rejection filled Alicia with desolation, yet she said placatingly, “Barry, we took your folks by surprise.”
    “You!” Tim turned on her.
    “If you’re expecting a free ride here, just forget it. We aren’t the millionaire Cordiners, we’re just plain, ordinary people.” He lowered his head like a bull at Barry.
    “And as for you, if you’re so damn grown-up, you don’t need any more bucks from me.”
    “I work at the Student Union,” Barry said.
    “That money goes on books and gas. You pay your own room and board and we’ll see how long you keep on with that fancy education of yours.”
    “Tim, he’s got to finish!” Clara cried.
    “Clara, you keep out of this. You’ve spoiled him long enough. It’s time Mr. Bigshot Married Man here learned what life’s all about.”
    Barry’s nails dug into Alicia’s hand.
    “At least I know it’s not about picking up women in bars and passing out in their beds!”
    “You little turd!” Tim shouted at the top of his lungs.
    “Get the fuck out of my house, and take your Tijuana hooker with you!”
    “Tim,” Clara whimpered.
    “Tim, please….”
    Barry didn’t hear the rest. Grabbing Alicia’s upper arm, he propelled her down the short, unlit corridor and into his bedroom, where he yanked down the cordovan leather suitcase that had been a birthday gift from his Aunt Lily and Uncle Frank and began throwing in clothes.
    Alicia sat on the desk chair, her shaking hands clasped in her lap.
    The scene had destroyed what little there was of her selfesteem, yet she couldn’t repress a ripple of sympathy for Tim. Not Clara-she’d never liked or respected whiners. But there had been something infinitely pathetic about the infuriated bull of a man in his old tee shirt. She wanted to urge Barry to go in and make up with his dad, but in Alice Hollister’s world it was infra dig as well as downright dangerous to come between two furious men. She began folding the clothes that Barry had tossed into the suitcase.
    The pencil jar jumped on the desk as the front door slammed.
    “There goes Dad,” Barry said, his brown eyes glittering with tears.
    “Barry, we’ll fix it up with them.”
    “After the way he insulted me—and you?”
    “The shock” — “We are not crawling.” His boyishly angular face set, he began pulling books from the shelves.
    “Never.”
    The door opened. Clara stood in the narrow hallway, her longish face like a white egg suspended in the dimness.
    Studiously avoiding glancing at Alicia, she said to her son, “Dear, you mustn’t take Dad seriously when he gets upset. We don’t want you to leave.”
    “This time Dad’s right,” Barry said stiffly.
    “I have my marital responsibilities.”
    “Your, uhh, wife, could stay here, too. You’ve got the trundle bed.”
    “I refuse to sponge off of you.”
    “But how else will you finish school? Barry, you must finish school.”
    “I’ll get that law degree, don’t you worry.”
    “I can’t bear any more of these family ruptures….” Clara’s jaw trembled.
    “It’s ruined my health, you and Beth not knowing your grandparents. You will visit, won’t