Almost Famous Women Read Free Page B

Martin happy.
    There was blood. Violet fainted. I no longer felt human. I felt as if I could climb out of my body.
    We’re done here, the man said. You shouldn’t have this problem again.
    We didn’t leave our bed for weeks.

    Martin disappeared.
    He found the straight and narrow, Ed said. That operation of yours cost him two months’ salary. He’s somewhere in Cleveland now.
    Ed brought us soup and old bread from the bakery while I recovered.
    He continued to drink at the corner table nights when Violet and I sang. He was anxious, protective.
    One night, after we’d performed “Tennessee Waltz,” the bartender waved me over.
    We’ve got leftover birthday cake, Daisy-girl, he said, pouring me a gin and tonic.
    I ate half a sheet cake between songs.
    Daisy, Violet said. That’s disgusting.
    I pushed my empty glass forward for a refill.
    The great Houdini told us to retreat to an imaginary shell when we got tired of each other, I said to the bartender, rolling my eyes at Violet.
    We never met Houdini, Violet said.
    Next thing I knew, Violet was wrestling my finger out of my mouth in the bathroom stall.
    Stop it! she said.
    You drink too much and you never eat, she said. What did you have yesterday? Half a peanut-butter sandwich? An apple?
    We sank back against the wall of the bathroom stall. I still remember the pattern of the tile. Mint-colored rectangles with black squares. Ice cream, I thought. Tile like ice cream.
    And the lying, Daisy, she said. The lying.
    I watched ankles and shoes walk by the stall. Some womenhad beautiful ankles. Some women moved on two feet instead of four.
    I still had icing on my fingers.
    I need to stay here for a while, I said.
    Violet held her hand underneath the stall door and asked a pair of ankles for a glass of water.
    She had chutzpah when I least expected it.
    Two weeks later, she surprised us all by dropping her panties into the church time capsule.

    Did I ever tell you about our big break? I asked the agent.
    I pulled out a stock photo Violet and I had autographed.
    Violet and I might be broke and we might be strange but we were not ordinary.
    Why do you have that old thing out? Violet asked. What are we—seven or eight?
    She was eating saltines out of a dented tin box.
    Can’t whistle now, she said, smiling.
    I pinched her bottom.
    The agent is here, I whispered.
    I’d once seen Violet cover my half of the photo with her hand to see what she looked like alone. We’d both wondered.

    Here’s how we ended up back in Carolina. I’d been in talks with a man who said he needed us for some public relations work.
    It’s like this, he had said. You show up at the theater and do an introduction for my movie.
    We have to take the risk, I’d said to Violet.
    But we don’t, she’d said. We’re old. We’re retired.
    We can’t live on what we have, I’d said. Not for long, and I plan on living a long time.
    We fronted him money for travel arrangements. He promised a hefty return. But what he did was leave us stranded at the bus station. We had no money, no car, only our suitcase.
    I’m tired of trusting, Violet had said.
    We’d cried that night, propped up against the brick station wall. A minister had taken us in, fed us hot dogs, said he knew of a local grocery that needed an extra pair of hands.
    We have those, I said.

    One night Violet shook me awake. Ed was in the bathroom with the door closed.
    Get up, she said, switching on the bedside lamp. Get up.
    Your eye, I said.
    Violet had a red handprint across her face.
    We stumbled to the dark kitchen.
    He’s drunk, she said.
    Doesn’t matter, I said.
    I picked up the silver pot we used to boil noodles in one hand, grabbed a paring knife in the other.
    Ed came into the kitchen crying.
    Get out, I said.
    I shielded Violet with my body, backed her up to the sink.
    I flipped on the kitchen light. We all winced.
    Leave, I said.
    You’re