Machine Dreams

saying,
and I told those jerks that my husband was a City worker—and if they weren’t going to pay him well enough that he could own a car like every other Sam Smith, they were going to build me a sidewalk. I sank to my ankles in mud when I got off the bus carrying a baby and two sacks of sewing.
Gladys must have been almost seventeen.
I stood there holding Jewel as I shouted, you bet I did. I tell you, I have a permanent swayback from carrying that baby everywhere I went for nearly three years. There wasn’t any baby carriage in this house, and no baby-sitters.Andy Curry was lucky to bring home enough for two meals a day. If I hadn’t breast-fed Jewel until she was old enough to ask for it, she would have been as hungry as we were.
Gladys had told the story again just last night, Mitch sitting there as always reading the paper and leaving Jean to listen.
    Seemed a long time ago people had things so bad. No one took in sewing anymore, except the poor whites who lived between the feed store and the tracks. Now the war was five years past, people felt rich. The new Nash was wide and high and long; Mitch had bought it even though the concrete company had only been going six months and they were so strapped building the new house. Jean thought surely Gladys would remark how they were staying with her free so Mitch could have luxuries, but she seemed to love the new car and had gone on about it until Mitch was fairly strutting, touching the Nash and showing Gladys how the seats tilted back. Would have been a different story if Jean had gone out and bought a car. Gladys would never sanction foolishness from a woman in anything; despite all her complaints about men, she loved it when they did something crazy.
    Still, she’d been kind about helping Jean do a dress over for the New Year’s party. It was the sort of thing Mother would have done if she’d been here, and healthy. Jean had turned slowly as Gladys knelt to pin the hem, and Gladys chattered softly about trivial things. Jean was glad not to answer; she didn’t feel so sad anymore, except when people were unexpectedly kind. It was just over a year since the death; that’s why the last two weeks had been such a strain. A couple of mornings, faced with Christmas vacation from her secretarial job and being alone in the house all day, Jean had actually been sick. Last night she’d stared ahead at the kitchen clock as Gladys folded the wool skirt of the dress, and realized she wanted to drive out to the grave. But Gladys was at work today, doing inventory alone at her dress shop, and Jean would have to borrow the Nash.
    If he knew where she was going, he’d offer to drive her, keep from worrying about the car.
Why go out there in all this snow and cold?
he’d say.
You’ll just get hung up; that graveyard road isn’t even all paved.
But the snow wasn’t deep, only a powder really—she’d tell him she had errands. Surely he’d takea nap before the party anyway. He’d been out with Reb Jonas last night at the Elks’, and he’d gotten in late.
    Jean pressed her face to the cold glass. There, he’d stopped the car and stepped out, shaking wrinkles from his long tweed coat, pulling his hat brim lower as he shifted the sack of groceries. Oh, it was cold outside, too cold to snow hard. Mitch came up the walk and Jean moved away from the window, heard his footsteps, that flat
slap
of a man’s shoe on cement. She sat down and picked up the folded party dress, shook it out over her lap. He knew she was fixing it; she’d say she was out of thread. The doorknob turned and she slipped the wooden spool under the soft cushion of the chair.
    “My God, it’s cold,” he said as he stepped inside. “Like hell froze over out there.”
    “I know,” Jean said, standing, “and I have to run downtown to get some thread.” She took the sack of groceries and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Under her lips his skin was faintly rough with beard, and cold and sweet.
    “You’re crazy to go out now.” Mitch took off his gloves and blew on his hands. “Supposed to be zero by dark, and Main Street is bumper to bumper. People shopping because everything’s closed tomorrow.”
    “You’re right, but I have to wear this dress tonight. I can’t finish the hem without the thread.”
    He looked at her, a little exasperated. “Do you want me to get it for you? I’ve still got my coat on.”
    “No, no. Didn’t you want to take a nap before the party? I’ll just put these