Cuts Read Free Page B

tumbled her, sucked her forward, tossed her backward.
    Again and again, she stood up to meet the inrushing waves.
    She dived into them, swam under them, rode them toward the beach, then waded out again to meet new waves.
    Finally, exhausted, she waded for shore.
    Her sweatshirt, stretched and pulled askew, drooped from her shoulders. Her corduroy trousers felt so heavy with water that
     she feared they might fall around her ankles. She hung on to the waistband with one hand as she walked.
    When she reached dry sand, she lay on her back and gasped for air. Her breath soon began to come more easily.
    That was nice, she thought. Very nice.
    But what am I going to do?
    Just take it one step at a time. I’ll be all right. The baby’ll be all right.
    We’ll both be better off without Dave.
    Who needs him, anyway.
    The world’s full of guys, she told herself. They’re always after me. The trick’ll be finding one who isn’t an asshole.
    I sure was wrong about Dave.
    Better be more careful next time.
    Maybe just the right guy will come along this morning. He’ll see me sprawled here on the sand and fall madly in love with
     me. The way I’m dressed, maybe he’ll think I got washed ashore after a boating accident.
    I’ll wake up and find him standing over me, smiling.
    As her mind played with the idea, she drifted into sleep.
    She woke up some time later. Nobody was standing over her, but the front of her sweatshirt and corduroys was nearly dry. She
     rolled over and shut her eyes.
    The second time she awoke, she was still alone on the beach. She felt as if she were baking inside her heavy clothes. Her
     mouth was parched.
    She got up, brushed sand off her clothes, then headed back toward the lifeguard tower that she’d earlier used to mark her
     way.
    It was a long walk.
    When she reached the tower, she sat in the sand to rest. She felt tired and gritty, hot and sweaty. She shouldn’t have stayed
     out so long. She was probably dehydrated.
    I’ll have to make up for it, she thought, when I get to Meg’s.
    She struggled to her feet, then walked the rest of the way to Meg’s house.
    The front door stood open.
    Janet went to it and raised her hand, ready to knock, when Meg’s rough, husky voice called, “Come on in, hon.”
    “Okay. Just a second.” Bracing herself against the door frame, she brushed sand off her feet and ankles.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Meg said. “A little sand never hurt anyone.”
    Janet went inside and saw Meg sitting on the couch, a copy of T. V. Guide lying open on her lap, her bare feet resting on the coffee table.
    “Been waiting long?” Meg asked.
    “Since about eleven this morning.”
    “Wish I’d known. I was off playing volleyball at church.”
    “Meet anyone interesting?”
    “If I had, I wouldn’t be here now. So what’s the word, anyway?”
    “I left Dave.”
    Meg shook her head. “Sorry to hear it.”
    “But not very?”
    “Sorry for you. I know it’s gotta be tough.”
    “Well…Do you have something to drink?”
    “Sure. Something hard?”
    “Not too hard.”
    “How about a beer?”
    “Yeah, that’d be great. In the refrigerator?”
    “Right. Bring me one, too, will you?”
    With two cans of Hamms, Janet returned to the living room. She gave one can to Meg, then sat on a wicker chair and popped
     open her lid.
    “Did you catch him stepping out on you?” Meg asked.
    “Huh-uh.” Janet took a swallow of the beer. It was cold and sharp and slightly sweet. She breathed, then drank some more.
     “He doesn’t want the baby,” she finally said.
    “Baby?”
    Smiling, Janet nodded.
    “Terrific! How far a long are you?”
    “About seven weeks.”
    “Wow! That’s fabulous! How’re you feeling?”
    She rubbed the cold, wet can across her forehead. “Not bad right at the moment.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “I’m a bit shaky in the morning once in a while. And sometimes I don’t feel too perky. Aside from that, though, I feel great.”
    “A baby.