Going Down Fast Read Online Free PDF

including loneliness.
    She walked from the trolley stop, the pink air of sunset still warm behind the silhouettes of the turn-of-the-century three- and four-story apartments with stores on the ground floor that lined the street. Her street was like a bright grimy fringe on the green carpet of middle-class housing that stretched toward campus. Weeds were beginning to grow on the corner lot, and already a shortcut was trodden across. She stopped at the candystore for a paper. Mrs. Feldman leaned her fat arms on the counter, reading a column of classified ads with a spoon for pointer.
    She sat on a stool and ordered coffee to put off going the last block home.
    â€œHey, Mrs. Feldman, looking for a job? Going out in the world and leave Mr. Feldman to cook his own hamburgers?”
    The woman laughed politely, but the lines around her mouth did not ease. “They won’t say when they’re tearing us down.…” She waved her hand at the stamped tin ceiling. Like her parents’ store. “What can you do? Mr. Feldman says we should give it all up, but I say we have to find another place—what else can we do?”
    Feldman’s coffee was no longer good. It tasted of rust.
    Wednesday afternoon the phone rang. She sat rigid over the work-plan she was typing. A bolt went through her, holding her painfully but securely to the chairback. Him. Of course not. Don’t think it. Him. She tore free and picked up the receiver.
    â€œMiss Levinowitz?”
    No. Not. Why should he? A few minutes passed then before she understood what the polite voice wanted. Secretary of her department chairman.
    â€œWhat, you’re taking my classes away? What are you talking about? I’m down for four.”
    â€œAs I said, Miss Levinowitz, Mr. Bodford is very sorry, but the fall registration was misestimated, and we’re forced to cut back our classes.”
    â€œBut one class. I can’t live on one class. You know it’s too late to find anything else. It’s unfair.”
    â€œIf you’d like to talk to Mr. Bodford!” said his secretary, prissy with annoyance.
    â€œYou’re damned straight I would.”
    â€œWell, Miss Levinowitz,” said Mr. Bodford, pronouncing her name as if it hurt his jaw. “We regret this very much and I want you to know how much we appreciate and nothing personal and no contractual obligation and our PhD’s and impossible to estimate and with any fairness and one of the risks of the game and perhaps next semester and perhaps we could arrange a second class if we juggle our schedules and try to understand and …”
    â€œOne course I can’t live on, two courses I can’t live on. This is a fine time to tell me. I eat as much as a PhD. You can keep your course. I quit!”
    She hung up and sat quivering with surprise. Her head prickled with remarks she should have made. Yet she was half shocked that she had had the courage of her indignation. She couldn’t live on what they were offering, but it was a start. She hoped the other little shits would draw comfort from her gesture.
    At least she was finally out of debt. She ripped the prospectus from her typewriter and flung it in the garbage, sent her notes and exam ideas sailing after. No job and no man: she ought to leave this town. Damn them, she was a good teacher. She felt a pang for her students, those hers already, all her parttime children, her carefully distanced lovers. She rescued her notes from the garbage and brushed off the grounds. Some other time maybe. She had a forgiving disposition. Up to a point, up to a point.
    She took out her checkbook and worked at it, soothed by figures. The dirty sun filtered through the steelmill fumes and permanent sootstorm the South Side called air to expire on her face without warmth. She brushed the thick springy hair from her eyes. One hundred ninety-eight dollars and twenty-three cents. She was good at being frugal. She began to work