John D. MacDonald

by All These Condemned

  What did I want? My God, one of those females at the place where I’d spent the night? What the hell was I? I kept eating and looking at her in a new way. There I’d been dating her, and not liking the things that meant she was a good kid because the family had it tough getting the place going good, and she worked like a dog.

  Being with her, it made me feel good and clean, like I had already taken the shower I was going to take before I hit the sack. I finished and pushed the plate away and she poured my coffee cup full again and put the pot down and started to pull her hand back into her lap, but I grabbed it. I held her hand tight. She got red and I knew they were looking at us and I knew it was Sunday morning.

  I wanted to kid around. I wanted to give her some kind of a line like I always do. But I sat there like a big dummy and I held her hand hard and I said, “Janey.” A great line that is! Lots of laughs.

  My eyes began to sting like I was a little kid again. I let go of her hand and she put it in her lap. And I couldn’t even look at her any more. I walked all the way to the barracks before I remembered I had walked out without even paying.

  When I hit the sack I was hoping when I woke up all those people would be like people in a dream. Not real and alive and warm. Like Janey. Like Janey and me.