Sheldon Lord - Community of Women

“Do you mean that?”

“I’ve never meant anything more sincerely. Except when I asked you to marry me. This country life is no good for us, Nan. We’re dying out here. We should get back to the city.”

“Can we afford it?”

“We’ll save money. I’ve been... looking at apartment ads lately. We can buy one hell of a fine co-op for less than half of what we can sell this place for. And the monthly maintenance comes to less than taxes and upkeep on this architectural horror. We’ll be way ahead.”

“You’ve been looking at ads?”

He nodded. “I’ve thought about moving back for weeks now. But I was afraid you liked it here.”

“Howie, I hate it!”

“So do I. But I never knew—”

And they started laughing together. They laughed heartily and happily for the first time in far too long. They laughed hysterically, and they held each other close, and they hurried the kids off to bed.

Then they, too, went to bed.

Much later Nan lay awake, ready for sleep but too happy to close her eyes. Everything was going to be all right now, she know. Howard was her husband and she loved him and he loved her. Ted Carr was a horrible mistake who was no longer a part of her life. He had not even left a scar.

Everything was going to be all right now.

The young couple stood at the railway station in Cheshire Point. The man was about twenty-six, with short hair and gray flannel suit. The woman wore a pregnancy outfit, neat maternity clothes which covered a belly due to give forth life in approximately three and one-half months.

They had looked at a house that afternoon. They were city-dwellers and did not own a car, so they were waiting for the train to take them back to New York. The house they had looked over was a swank split-level colonial on a full acre plot of land. They both liked it.

“I think we can afford it,” the man was saying. “After all, we’ll be paying off the mortgage the same as we’re paying rent now. And at the end we’ll have something to show for it. It’s a beautiful house, isn’t it?”

“Lovely. And all that yard for the kids to play in.”

“Kids?”

“Well, kid. But kids, eventually. I love it, honey.”

The man put an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Just think of it,” he said. “Fresh air to breathe. And we’ll be able to have a car finally. You know, I miss driving a car. It’ll be good to have one again. You can’t drive in Manhattan without losing your mind.”

“I know.”

“I’ll like it here.”

“It’s a long way for you to come for work,” the woman said. “Are you sure you won’t mind it?”

“I’ll enjoy it. Give me a chance to get my brain working in the morning and a chance to unwind at night. I won’t walk in grumbling about the hard time they gave me.”

“Are you sure you won’t mind? I mean, it’s an hour or so in the morning and the same thing at night.”

“Better than fighting the subway.”

“Oh,” she said. “I guess you’re right. Smell the air, honey! Isn’t it divine?”

They sniffed the air together and agreed that it was divine.

“Just one thing,” the man said. “You know, you’ll be all alone here with not much to do.”

“I’ll have the baby—”

“Besides that, I mean. What’ll you do for friends?”

“I’ll have loads of friends,” she said. “Women like myself, with husbands who go to New York to work. And they’ll be decent, interesting people. Not like that madhouse of a city where you can live next to a person for fifteen years without saying more than hello and goodbye.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “We’ll make real friends here.”

“It’ll be great.”

“Wonderful.”

They fell silent, thinking just how wonderful it would be.

“Oh,” he said suddenly. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“What?”

“Just a thought,” he said. “I won’t mind it at all.”

“Mind what?”

“Well,” he said, “it’ll probably be pretty... quiet here, almost a little dull. I guess not much happens in a little town like Cheshire Point.”

“Will you miss the excitement?”

“Not me,” he insisted. “How about you?”

She shook her head firmly. “It will be a pleasure,” she said. “Just peace and quiet. Because what could ever happen in Cheshire Point?”