Saint Mazie: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

takes time. But it doesn’t seem right, this much pain.
    What would anyone do to hold on to a dream for a little longer? Gypsy con or not, it doesn’t change Rosie’s dream.
    I can’t blame her for having one, though. I would never blame anyone for wishing for something more from this life.

George Flicker
    Then I was old enough to go to war, or at least I told them I was. I was a few months shy of legal but they didn’t check too hard. I would have said anything though to get out of that cramped apartment! The taller I got, the smaller it seemed. And I wanted to see the world. That I would be fighting in a war didn’t scare me for some reason. Maybe I wasn’t so brave, maybe I was just stupid instead. I won’t talk about what happened though, what I saw there. You know, we’re not like your generation where we need to talk about every little thing. Sometimes a bad thing happens and then you’re done with it.
    But anyway I didn’t see Mazie again for five years, so I can’t help you out during that particular time period. Because I went to France and then I stayed there when the war was over and lived there and worked there and had a life there. I lived with a French girl for a year even. And she was really something, I’ll tell you. Ooh-la-la, I know. [Laughs.] I’ve had my fun, I’ve had my fun. Eventually I had to come back though. My mother got sick, and of course, there was all that trouble with Uncle Al.

Mazie’s Diary, November 1, 1917
    Twenty years old. I’m sure I should be having more fun.
    What is this pull in me that makes me want trouble? Months I’ve been quiet and good, even though the heat on the streets was making me feel sexy, wanting to dance and drink. To kiss someone. Passing by alleys at night and seeing girls and boys playing. Fingers on lips, fingers on tits, I miss it. It’s been so long since I’ve lain down with someone. Most nights are with Rosie now. I lost this summer to her belly.

Mazie’s Diary, December 13, 1917
    Rosie lost another baby. This time it felt like she was pregnant for only a minute.
    Now she’s flat on her back again in the living room. Weeks and weeks of it, and there’s a dent in the couch now, I can see the mattress sagging beneath her. I swear the springs will sink straight through the floor.
    She grabs my hand but squeezes too hard and it hurts but I try not to make a noise. She asks me to stroke her head but shifts her head, squirms beneath my fingers. Rub my feet, she tells me.
    But then she says: No, you’re doing it wrong. No, don’t touch me.
    Watches me with her eagle eye, thinking I’ll leave her.
    Louis sits in the kitchen, head down, in the food. He closed the theater for a few days this week. Jeanie’s nowhere I can see, smart girl.
    I take nips in the bedroom. I can’t go to the whiskey, but the whiskey can come to me.

Mazie’s Diary, December 16, 1917
    Something’s going to break soon. I got no control over myself and I like it.

Mazie’s Diary, January 4, 1918
    I wasn’t ready to go home yet but there was nobody left in the bar worth talking to. Talked to a bum on the street instead, an old fella. We split whatever was in his bottle and I gave him a smoke. I was feeling tough. I asked him how long he’d been on the streets.
    He said: Longer than you’ve been alive, girlie. You gotta be tough to last that long.
    He beat his chest.
    I said: I could survive out here.
    He said: You don’t want to try.
    I said: I could do it. You wanna see me?
    He said: You got a home, you’re lucky.
    I said: Why don’t I feel that way?
    Then he got gentle with me.
    He said: If someone loves you, go home to them.
    A bad wind blew in and I grew suddenly, terribly cold. I couldn’t bear the night for another minute. I handed him the rest of my smokes and wandered home.

Mazie’s Diary, January 5, 1918
    Rosie was trying to sweet-talk me early this morning. A nice change from yelling I guess.
    She said: Don’t you want a sweetheart?
    I said: The