The Meeting Point
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dresses, stopped wearing nylon stockings with seams and began stepping out into the pearly white, white virginity of winter and broadminded liberal Christianity, clickitty-clacketty, in a pair of Italian three-quarter heels. She had bought them the day before with her Eaton’s charge-o-matic plate. One immediate result of this change in her place of worship, was that she stopped thinking Mrs. Burrmann was the devil; and consequently, stopped thinking of leaving the job. Life became a little less
and said approvingly to himself, This goddamn woman! They worked long to relieve Estelle of her pain; and to moderate the bleeding. Henry found a bottle with some whiskey, and they shared this. Bernice was in such a nervous state (although she did not show it) that she knew she needed something more than the word of God to help her through tonight. In any case, Henry never owned a Bible. Occasionally, he would look at her, shake his head, and confide to himself, Goddamn, this is a great woman!
truth,” Henry said. “You didn’t know that, did you, Bernice love?” He watched her to see how she reacted to “love.” She did not react. “Man, I used to pass this chick every morning. I met her at a party, some place. The day after the party, she passed me on the street. Every morning I passing this nice chick and she ain’t saying one goddamn word to me. And then one evening, a knocking on my door! And as Boysie would say, Gorblummuh! when I open the door, I nearly drop down dead. The same woman!”
didn’t rescue you, you would still be as poor as a bird’s arse) … though we didn’t have these modern conveniences, things wasn’t as bad.” “Give every man his due, gal. Give every bastard his due, and the world would be a better place and everybody would be happy.” Bernice went to the window, to look out, perhaps to see if the answer was written on the house where Brigitte worked. She didn’t see an answer there. After all, Dots was right: she was as poor as a bird’s arse, back in Barbados; and
And Mrs. Burrmann, who didn’t have the power (or the desire) to listen to Bernice’s thoughts, was saying, “… all I want to know, Leach, is that you have set the table for eight persons, and that you haven’t forgotten that I told you, twice so far, this morning, that eight persons’re coming. It is almost three o’clock now, and you still have lots to do … the children, the groceries, and you have still to go to the drug store for me.…” Be-Christ, look woman, I didn’t even have time to look at the