Three Women by March Hastings Read Free Book Online

weight of her in his arms. Then slowly, she slipped to the floor and collapsed at his feet. He kneeled beside her, not knowing what to do. She crawled over, put her head in his lap and sobbed wretchedly.
    Clumsily, he stroked her hair. 'It's all right honey. If you want to be alone, it's okay." His voice was heavy with sadness. "Just don't get lost" he said- "We need each other too much."
    When he brought her home, he didn't try to kiss her. He sort of patted her shoulder and ran off down the steps. She listened to the disappearing jingle of his house keys.
    * * *
    Paula was grateful for Monday. Getting up and yelling at Mike to hurry up out of the bathroom kept her from thinking for the moment about the strange state of affairs in her life.
    The rush hour crowds carried her down the steps to the subway and she stood on line to buy a week's supply of tokens.
    Her office friends greeted her and chatted about their dates as if this had been a weekend like any other. Paula felt as though she had been away for a hundred years. But her desk, her typewriter, the small switchboard with its tails and plugs hypnotized her back into the meaningless routine.
    At five o'clock she looked for Phil's car but it wasn't there. She waited ten minutes. He didn't show up. She realized with huge relief that he really was going to let her alone for awhile. Poor guy. She didn't like herself very much for yesterday's scene. But even as she tried to think of Phil, the picture of him faded to be replaced by the image of that shirtless body, the tantalizing curves of warm flesh, coldly posed for sketching.
    When she got home, the place was jammed with Mike's friends making a pretense of doing homework. Pa hadn't arrived yet. She helped set the table and prepared a place for him, even though she didn't know whether or not he would be in any condition to eat.
    Ma said, "Did you have a good day?"
    "Like every other," Paula answered. Then she said, "Ma, did you think when you got married that this was the way life was going to be?"
    Her mother wiped her hands on the apron and studied the worn wedding ring on her finger. "That's a funny question, my dear. In those days, you know, we didn't think about how it would all turn out. We just took our chances. We trusted the man to do what he should do, and so would we." She always spoke in terms of "we" because she had seven sisters.
    "But didn't you have any imagination? Didn't you wonder whether the future was going to be bright or not?"
    "Maybe old-fashioned people take it for granted the future is going to be bright. I guess I don't know, dear."
    Paula knew her mother wasn't trying to chide her. And she was being discreet enough not to ask why Phil hadn't brought her home. He always came upstairs for a short visit, and her mother enjoyed the company. She liked Phil. And Paula could see that her own sudden hesitance about getting married was a disappointment.
    The boys were fighting so loudly over the verb of a sentence that nobody heard Pa come in. He stumbled forward into the kitchen and fell heavily on the table, his face yellow with a frightening pallor.
    "Harry!" Her mother ran to him. He fell forward, upsetting the empty glasses, and lay with his cheek against the oilcloth.
    Paula ran to the phone to call the doctor. Her hands trembled as they dialed numbers.
    She cleared the boys out and sent Mike with them. Her father lay at the table, wretching with spasms, speechless in pain. She and her mother tried to move him to the bed but he couldn't make it.
    The doctor arrived, and the three of them managed to get the old man in bed. After the examination, the doctor put his stethoscope in his bag and filled out a prescription.
    "It's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Temple. He’ll have to stay in bed for a couple of weeks. No alcohol, of course. Plenty of tea and broth and rest. This will keep him quiet through the night. I'll drop by tomorrow."
    Paula gave him the five dollar visiting fee, regretting the