Once Is Not Enough Read Online Free PDF Page B

strength of his arms. She wanted to kiss his cheek, especially the side where the dimple almost formed. She wanted to hear him say, “It’s all right, baby.”
    There was nothing wrong in it. She got out of bed quietly and opened the door. She crossed the large living room and turned the handle of his door gently. It opened easily. At first, she saw only the darkness. But gradually she saw the dim outline of the bed across the room. She tiptoed over, feeling her away along the wall. She reached the bed and pulled aside the sheet and slid in. Her side of the bed was cool and crisp with clean sheets. She inched over and reached for him. But her hand touched another cool crisp pillow. The bed was empty!
    She sat up and switched on the lamp on the night table. The bed was turned down . . . the linens were clean. He wasn’t there! She got out of bed and walked back into the living room. She stared at the note and the money.
    Everything Franco said was true . . . he was with Melba. But why didn’t he tell her . . . why did he have to lie to her . . . leave the note about waiting up for her. She went back to the desk and reread the note. But he hadn’t said he had waited up for her. He had said, “Waited until two.” Sure . . . he and Melba had waited until two . . . and then gone off together. Right now they were probably making love.
    She went back to her bedroom. He had every right to be with Melba. Why was she so upset? He always had girls. But she was the only one he really loved. Their love was beyond sex . . . people had sex without love. Animals had sex . . . and they weren’t in love. They mated, that was all. Like the time when she was five and she had a poodle. It had been mated and it wouldn’t even look at the male after it was over. And then when it had puppies . . . it had loved them . . . until theywere three months olds. She had been so amazed when her mother told her they had to give away the male because to the girl poodle he was no longer a son . . . just another male. And that was all Melba was to her father . . . just someone to have sex with.
    She got into bed and tried to sleep. She held the pillow in her arms as she often had at school when she was lonely. But suddenly she pushed it away. The pillow had always been a symbol of Mike, of comfort. But now Mike had Melba in his arms. . . . She had to stop thinking this way! After all, what did she think he had been doing all these years since her mother died? But she had never been there . Okay, now she was there . And she must get him used to the idea that she was an adult, that she could be a great companion, a help to him. He had been alone so much. He was used to latching on to anyone.
    When she did fall asleep her dreams were strange and disjointed. She dreamed she was at the funhouse in Coney Island where her father had taken her when she was small. Only there was jarring blasting discotheque music now. She looked at herself in the mirror and laughed . . . first she was long and skinny . . . then short and squat . . . over her shoulder she saw Melba . . . only Melba’s face wasn’t distorted . . . it was beautiful . . . and she was laughing . . . her face grew larger and larger until it covered the mirror. Melba kept laughing . . . then she heard Franco laughing . . . his face was on the mirror with Melba’s and they were both pointing at her grotesque foreshortened image and laughing. Why was the funhouse mirror making her look so funny when it let Melba and Franco look beautiful? She looked around for Mike. He was at the shooting gallery. Melba walked over and stood close to him, her hand on his leg. “Daddy—” January cried out. “Come and take me away from the mirror.” But he laughed and said, “Let Franco help you. Besides, I’m shooting all the clay ducks and pipes. I’m doing it all for you, baby. I’m winning all the prizes to lay at your feet.” And he kept shooting and each time he shot he hit the bull’s-eye and the bell