Short Cuts Read Free

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, girlishlyclapping 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