THE Nick Adams STORIES Read Online Free PDF Page B

holding his lips tight together.
    â€œHe puts lemon juice on his hands,” the man said. “He wouldn’t get them in dishwater for anything. Look how white they are.”
    One of the whores laughed out loud. She was the biggest whore I ever saw in my life and the biggest woman. And she had on one of those silk dresses that change colors. There were two other whores that were nearly as big but the big one must have weighed three hundred and fifty pounds. You couldn’t believe she was real when you looked at her. All three had those changeable silk dresses. They sat side by side on the bench. They were huge. The other two were just ordinary-looking whores, peroxide blondes.
    â€œLook at his hands,” the man said and nodded his head at the cook. The whore laughed again and shook all over.
    The cook turned and said to her quickly, “You big disgusting mountain of flesh.”
    She just kept on laughing and shaking.
    â€œOh, my Christ,” she said. She had a nice voice. “Oh, my sweet Christ”
    The two other whores, the big ones, acted very quiet and placid as though they didn’t have much sense, but they were big, nearly as big as the biggest one. They’d have both gone well over two hundred and fifty pounds. The other two were dignified.
    Of the men, besides the cook and the one who talked, there were two other lumberjacks, one that listened, interested but bashful, and the other that seemed getting ready to say something, and two Swedes. Two Indians were sitting down at the end of the bench and one standing up against the wall.
    The man who was getting ready to say something spoke to me very low, “Must be like getting on top of a hay mow.”
    I laughed and said it to Tommy.
    â€œI swear to Christ I’ve never been anywhere like this,” he said. “Look at the three of them.” Then the cook spoke up.
    â€œHow old are you boys?”
    â€œI’m ninety-six and he’s sixty-nine,” Tommy said.
    â€œHo! Ho! Ho!” the big whore shook with laughing. She had a really pretty voice. The other whores didn’t smile.
    â€œOh, can’t you be decent?” the cook said. “I asked just to be friendly.”
    â€œWe’re seventeen and nineteen,” I said.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you?” Tommy turned to me.
    â€œThat’s all right.”
    â€œYou can call me Alice,” the big whore said and then she began to shake again.
    â€œIs that your name?” Tommy asked.
    â€œSure,” she said. “Alice. Isn’t it?” she turned to the man who sat by the cook.
    â€œAlice. That’s right.”
    â€œThat’s the sort of name you’d have,” the cook said.
    â€œIt’s my real name,” Alice said.
    â€œWhat’s the other girls’ names?” Tom asked.
    â€œHazel and Ethel,” Alice said. Hazel and Ethel smiled. They weren’t very bright.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” I said to one of the blondes.
    â€œFrances,” she said.
    â€œFrances what?”
    â€œFrances Wilson. What’s it to you?”
    â€œWhat’s yours?” I asked the other one.
    â€œOh, don’t be fresh,” she said.
    â€œHe just wants us all to be friends,” the man who talked said. “Don’t you want to be friends?”
    â€œNo,” the peroxide one said. “Not with you.”
    â€œShe’s just a spitfire,” the man said. “A regular little spitfire.”
    The one blonde looked at the other and shook her head.
    â€œGoddamned mossbacks,” she said.
    Alice commenced to laugh again and to shake all over.
    â€œThere’s nothing funny,” the cook said. “You all laugh but there’s nothing funny. You two young lads, where are you bound for?”
    â€œWhere are you going yourself?” Tom asked him.
    â€œI want to go to Cadillac,” the cook said. “Have you ever been there? My sister lives