Alien Upstairs Read Online Free PDF

She had been living with him too long. He seemed to take up the room, pressing her into a corner.
    "I slept with him, too.” She had said it. Now she wanted to call back the words. For a moment, she thought he had not heard her. Then she saw his dead blue eyes, and knew he had.
    She opened her mouth, ready to tell him about her feeling of being hypnotized, her inability to recall the incident clearly. She could not tell him that. He would despise the excuse, and her for using it.
    "Jesus Christ,” he said. He did not move.
    "It was just once. On my day off."
    "Just once. What the hell's that supposed to mean, just once?” He said the words slowly.
    "I don't know.” She plucked at her green dress, picking at the embroidery. She stilled her hands. “That it didn't mean anything, I guess. Apparently it didn't mean much to him, either.” She could not say Raf's name.
    "Why?” The query was almost a moan. “Why, Sarah?"
    "I don't know."
    "Were you trying to get something from him? Was that it? Was that what it was?"
    "I don't know. I didn't even think of that."
    "Jesus. How can I ever trust you again?” He rose. She cringed, thinking he would strike her. He went into the bedroom and closed the door.
    Sarah stared at her feet for a few moments. Then she stood up, surprised at how weary she felt. Her dress seemed heavy; her long hair was a weight pulling her head toward the ground. She went to the bedroom door and leaned against it. “Gerry?” Her shoulders shook; her face was wet. The room beyond was silent. “Gerry?” She sank to the floor, heedless of her dress, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Gerry.” She pressed her forehead against her arms.
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    Five
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    The fall weather had turned bitter. The setting sun was a bright copper coin against the sky; blue-gray clouds drifted nearer to the sun until it divided into reddish streaks. Sarah waited for the bus in front of Warwick and Baum's, shivering. Her feet hurt. She had been a salesgirl for more than two years, and she wondered if they would ever stop hurting. The people standing with her were speculating about what would happen now that Citibank had collapsed.
    The bus rumbled toward her. She climbed in, dropped her plastic token in the fare box, and pushed past the Guard, looking for a seat.
    "Sarah.” She turned toward the voice, and saw Raf. The bus lurched, and she fell into the seat next to him. She could not look at his face. “I haven't seen you for a bit."
    "I've been busy,” she said. “We have a fashion show corning up."
    "My, my. Perhaps I'll be able to see it."
    "What are you doing on a bus?"
    "One must save fuel. I always take the bus when I can."
    She stared at her lap. Gerard had withdrawn from her. He had burst into the living room the night of the party and begun the inquisition, as she had known he would once the shock of her confession had worn off. He had pelted her with questions, first about her motivations, then about her actions. She had soon been answering “yes” to all the questions, because she could not recall exactly what she had done with Raf and thus assumed she had performed most of the possible and likely acts. That had been their last real conversation for a week. He was punishing her, or flagellating himself. Their precarious finances, and the likelihood of an even more parsimonious life apart, held them together for now. Gerard regarded her as a warden, and himself as a prisoner—or maybe it was the other way around. She asked herself again if she felt guilty about sleeping with Raf, and decided that the only thing she regretted was telling Gerard about it.
    She forced herself to look at her companion. Raf was watching her; she caught a melancholy expression on his face before he smiled. He couldn't be an alien, she thought. He wouldn't have been able to make love to her; it wouldn't have been possible. That proved