Shirley Read Online Free PDF Page A

around the world.”
    â€œOh,” I said, mollified.
    â€œWhy?” he asked.
    â€œNo reason. I just wondered.”
    â€œWere you listening last night?” He didn’t sound angry, so I nodded.
    â€œâ€˜The Demon Lover,’” I said. “That’s what you called it.”
    He rolled the length of his discarded blue tie through his fingers. “It’s my favorite, and Stanley’s. And hers, too.” I patted the bed, but instead he went to the closet and draped the tie through a hanger. He described the ballad then, telling me about the cloven-footed sailor who returns to reclaim his lover years after he’s been reported dead. The woman abandons her trustworthy carpenter husband and their children, flees to what turns out to be her doom. The devil’s request, impossible to ignore. I shivered, patted the bed again, but Fred remained standing, something puzzled and reluctant in the set of his shoulders, the stiffness of his jaw.
    â€œIt’s British,” he told me. “And Scottish, and eventually there were American variations as well. Always the same message, even though the words change.”
    â€œSome people are dangerous to love,” I said.
    We were silent for some moments.
    â€œShirley works in the morning,” he said then. “So you’ll have to be quiet. I think the kitchen’s fine, and the parlor, but not the library, where the desks are. That back one is her desk.”
    I nodded again.
    â€œTry to like it, Rosie. Try to like her.”
    â€œI do,” I told him. “But why would she like me? They’re all so smart, so well educated. I don’t fit in.”
    He sat on the bed, took me in his arms. “Rose Nemser,” he said. “You don’t know yourself at all.”
    I started to cry. “Her kids. I don’t like them.”
    â€œThe kids?” He was genuinely surprised. I was surprised myself. It was as if I were trying to establish an alibi for a crime I’d not yet decided to commit. Hadn’t Sally and I dried the dishes together companionably last night, chatting about her disdain for her new boarding school’s rules? I’d admired her sly smile and the daringly straightforward way she dealt with Shirley—thinking nothing of seizing her mother round the middle with both arms and squeezing tightly, her eyes shut in order to better savor the pleasure of it.
    â€œDon’t make me go back,” she’d said then. Shirley kept rinsing the soapy dishes under hot water, placing the clean plates on the dish towel she’d laid out along the counter.
    â€œMomma, please. I’ll be good and study, I’ll keep my room straight, and stay away from boys. I’ll be delightful.” Shirley glanced at me with a wry smile. Sally’s grin included me as well, as if I might play some part in deciding her fate. “Delightful, Momma. I promise.”
    I dried two more of the rosebud latticed plates—faded gold rims did not detract from their elegance—and stacked them on the sideboard before Sally said again, “Please, Momma. And I’ll befriend Rose, I’ll show her everything, I’ll be a hostess par excellence.”
    I stiffened without realizing it, so that the plate I was drying knocked dangerously on the sharp counter edge. To my relief, Shirley said, “You need to finish high school, my friend, not dangle after our fairy-tale lovers, pretty as they are. We’ll finish here. You might as well go upstairs and start your Ellison essay. I’ll take charge of putting on the dog for Rose and Fred.” The look Sally shot me was cautious, as if she’d noted a hitherto unseen risk in my presence. I met her gaze flatly, then offered to finish rinsing the dishes. In truth, Sally was okay. She was hardly as interesting as Shirley, but how could anyone possibly be?
    â€œRosie Klein from Pine Street,” Fred said now, his breath warming