READING SAMPLE

The Lost Son

By June Stephenson
eBook available on Amazon, Apple and Barnes & Noble

www.junestephensonbooks.com

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As with most of the nation recuperating after World War II, spending in Emeryville, California was almost unlimited. New businesses rose to meet the pent-up demand for goods which had not been available for more than four years. In Emeryville, across the bay from San Francisco, businesses such as Sherman-Williams Paints, Judson Iron Works, and Pabco Linoleum bought inexpensive land with a ready disposal in the San Francisco Bay for their refuse. Their waste was mixed with the mudflats saturation of effluence from previous meat packing plants, which had also dumped stripped animal carcasses into the bay. Also raw sewage from Berkeley, and Oakland was piped down into the bay at Emeryvilles muddy feet before there were laws prohibiting pollution. Toxins not only killed oyster fields and clams that had provided the small population with a reliable livelihood, but also contributed to the noxious smell so pungent that most motorists driving on Eastshore Highway held their noses as they drove past Emeryville. As a child growing up in Emeryville, Margaret, like most of the residents, tolerated the smell, often not noticing it. Or they traded it for inexpensive housing, good schools supported by a high tax base from new industries, easy access to Bay Area jobs, and the Bay Bridge on-ramp to San Francisco. In spite of the odor, Emeryvilles citizens were proud of the tax base that provided by their new industries. They were especially proud of their champion high school football team and their huge lighted stadium. Ed Anderson, Margarets father was born in Berkeley General Hospital to parents who had settled in Emeryville in 1920. He married when he was twenty to a sister of one of his co-workers, and together they raised three children in one of the small housing developments.

His elder daughter Elizabeth married when she was eighteen, moved to Vallejo fifteen miles north, and like her parents, also had three children. Eds son Stanley immediately went to work for Judson Iron Works as soon as he graduated from high school. His younger daughter Margaret prepared herself through high school to attend the University of California, four miles way. Though she had been on the honor roll all through her school years, she could not earn a passing grade in geometry and was denied admittance to the university, a heartbreaking experience for her. There were no local junior colleges in the area at that time where Margaret could make up her math deficiency. And because of her fathers limited factory salary, there was no dormitory money for schools away from her home. After Margaret had exhausted all avenues to a college education, she resigned herself to a sales job at Sears. Determined to continue her desire to be a writer, she set a strict schedule for herself, selling at Sears in the daytime, and writing her short stories after work. Margaret lived at home, paying her parents twenty of her sixty dollars a month for room and board. Though attractive and friendly, she spent most of her free time reading and she avoided opportunities to date. A devastating experience with a popular boy in her last year of high school, had turned Margaret inward. She had been foolishly flattered by the attention of the high school Romeo, Roy Carlson. She was astonished that he seemed smitten with her, but unaccustomed to praise of any kind, she eventually succumbed to his sexual pleadings, mistaking them for love. Be careful Margaret, her older sister Elizabeth warned her. Roy Carlson has a reputation. Love em and leave m. He loves me. I know he does. Elizabeth was right. Margaret in the throes of her first love, gave herself completely to Roys experienced lovemaking. It was the most magical, though at times painful, night of her life. She would forever love Roy and he would forever love her. That is what he told her as

he undressed her. But the next day at school he didnt even look at her when they passed in the school hall. Maybe he hadnt seen her. In the English class they attended together, Margaret made a point to stand by his desk when he came into the room. He purposefully avoided her as he talked with animation to several girls waiting for class to begin. This time Margaret was sure he had seen her. Her heart sank as she realized Elizabeth was right. Everyone in high school must know she had become one more of Roys conquests. He had flaunted her like a trophy he had won before he dropped her completely. Her fathers suspicions were justified when his wife told him why Margaret spent so much time in her room, crying. Lets hope to God he didnt get her pregnant. Ill kill that Son of a Bitch. Shes not pregnant, his wife assured him. Now who the hell is going to marry her? Who doesnt know about this? Roy and his dad are both braggarts. After high school graduation and for several years Margarets father found having a single daughter at home was an embarrassment, and he did not like his wifes defending their daughter. I wish youd stop nagging her, Ed, his wife would say. Margaret is not Elizabeth. Margaret will do all right. Shes twenty-five, Evan reminded his wife. She gonna live with us the rest of her life? Its not normal. His wife would drop the discussion. Though Margaret appeared unconcerned about her marital status, she often wondered if her life at Sears, selling sheets and frying pans would be her life-long fate. Also her dreams of being a writer began to fade. After a day of walking around on Sears concrete floors in the houseware department, Margaret was too tired to be creative. She used up her persuasive energy to encourage customers purchases, as her sales commission depended on her sales volume.

She had seen her high school girlfriends, one by one married at seventeen or eighteen. During the war she said her goodbyes when they left for various military camps to be near their husbands before being shipped overseas. Margaret sensed she was being left behind. She consoled herself by enjoying her few girlfriends at Sears, where they talked of books they shared, or discussed movies they had seen together. Though she had given up on her writing, in the evenings for something to do she sometimes sat in on the poker games with her brother Stanley. One of his friends, Andy Marshall, a boy she had heard about when he was one of Emeryville High Schools best football players often joined them. Though he was a few grades ahead of Margaret, she knew of him because football stars were important in Emeryille. In the Bay Area Football League, Emeryvilles team was considered tough to beat. It was an especial victory for Emeryville when their High School won a game against Berkeley High. Though Margaret knew Andy as a football star, she otherwise thought of him as rather dull. At poker games she noticed that all he did was make his bet, pay up, or collect chips, drink a couple of the bottles of beer he had brought for everyone, and then politely say goodnight. He had no conversation to offer. One night at the end of the game while her brother was putting the chips away, Margaret went out on their front porch and sat down, oblivious as always to the odor surrounding her. Andy stepped out on to the porch and stood awkwardly, seemingly not wanting to leave. She saw that he was embarrassed, and surprisingly had something to say. To make him feel comfortable, she invited him to sit in one of the porch chairs. Thank you, he said, rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants. Did you win any money tonight? she asked, knowing he had. Margaret, he said, ignoring her question, and speaking slowly, word for word, his hands in continual motion, Would you marry

me? Then into the silence, in a rush of words, he continued. I make good money at P.G.& E. I would buy us one of those houses on Second Street. I have enough money so you could furnish it the way you want. Ive been saving my money living at home. Andy didnt look at Margaret. He just kept his hands moving on his knees. Margaret was stunned. Words wouldnt come. They both sat, silent. Andy, mortified by what he had done, and not getting a reply, assumed there would be none. He got up from his chair and took a couple of steps to the stairs as though trying to escape. Wait, Margaret said. Let me think about this. We dont really know each other. Margaret, Andy said, sounding her name carefully, when I have been coming to your house, mostly I came to see you. I didnt care about the poker game. It was awkward for them both, but in the days ahead they saw each other somewhat frequently. Margaret opened herself up to see qualities in Andy she could appreciate. He was a man she could depend on, but mostly she saw a man who loved her, something she had not known before. They managed to get through a short engagement period before their quiet wedding two months later. Margarets mother and father were delighted about the marriage. They knew their daughter was not in love with Andy, but as her father said, Hes got a good steady job. Hell get her nose out of all those books. Her mother was happy that Margaret would be living, right here in Emeryville where youve lived all your life. No flitting off to all those other states where your girlfriends went when they married those army boys. You see them coming home now. Some without husbands who got killed overseas, or husbands without legs, or who are blind. Youre safe here and nearby. Margaret had not wanted to be safe. And she especially did not

want to live in Emeryville with its foul smell. But Andy had bought a house two blocks from Margarets mothers home, and opened an account at Breuners Furniture Store in Berkeley, telling her she could buy anything up to a total of three thousand dollars to furnish their home. He had invested his total life savings in their marriage and Margaret in exchange was determined to be the good wife he deserved in return. Through the first years of their marriage, she saw Andy as an ideal husband. He worked hard every day, turned over his monthly paycheck to her, never looked at another woman, didnt drink. He adored their only child, Raymond, born on their first anniversary. From the time he was about two years old, every night Raymond ran to greet his father when he came home from work, bounding out their screen door to be lifted into Andys arms. Just as her mother had done for her father, Margaret had dinner waiting for Andy on the table at five thirty every night. When they ate, they exchanged few words. Raymond alternated between banging his spoon on his high chair tray, and eating mouthfuls offered by his father. Margaret cleared the table while three-year-old Raymond attempted to help. Andy and Margaret shared the dishwashing and drying as Raymond played with his toys in their small living room. Continuing the nightly ritual, after the dishes were dried and put into their cupboards, Andy leaned back in his overstuffed chair to look at the evening newspaper, usually falling asleep before he reached the third page. The water running in the tub for Raymonds bath woke him from his after-dinner nap. Then he would joyfully bathe his son while Margaret relaxed in her easy-chair, finding her place in one of the many books sitting by her table. From the living room, Margaret could hear the laughing and splashing in the bathroom. She could picture Andy wrapping his small son in the bath towel, tossling his wet hair and getting him into his sleeper-feet pajamas. Together they put their son to bed, kissed and snuggled him, turned off the light in his room, and went to their

reading and listening to the radio until nine-thirty when they went to bed. Tired from his days work, Andy fell asleep quickly, after giving his wife a perfunctory kiss, if she offered her cheek. Margaret often lay awake at night, desiring the touch of a man. She didnt feel guilty about discouraging Andy because he was so clumsy and tentative. He was a virgin when they married and didnt know that she wasnt. He had graduated from high school four years before Margaret and had not known of her humiliating experience with Roy Carlson. He saw her as beautiful, and smarter than he was. He loved her wholeheartedly, but he had no idea how to be romantic. After Raymond was born, Margaret was determined not to get pregnant again. She loved her little boy and was glad she had given birth to him, but for her, one child was enough, though she knew Andy wanted more. She found reason time and time again to avoid intimacy. When she worked at Sears, Margaret developed friendships there. But when she married Andy and quit her job as he asked her to, she missed the camaraderie she had with her co-workers. Sometimes the boredom of her life was overwhelming. She saw no way to extricate herself from the life she settled into. She dared not voice her thoughts about her shallow existence because she didnt want to put words to her feelings. That would make them true. Sometimes she thought she hated Andy for the dull life they led, yet reason told her she had been glad to accept the marriage when he offered it. She couldnt bring herself to do any writing because she was mired in self-pity, believing she was better than the life she was leading. After Raymond was born, and without those few work-place friends, it seemed her life had closed in on her. She couldnt share much with Andy because he was not interested in much. If they went to a movie, leaving Raymond with Margarets mother, she knew he only went because she wanted him to, and then she couldnt get him to talk about it as she used to do with her girlfriends. He just agreed with everything she said. He barely read more than a few pages of the

newspaper, and never read a book or magazine. He listened to weekly radio programs such as Fibber Magee and Molly, and on TV watched The Ed Sullivan Show. On weekends he listened to football games all day Saturday and Sunday. There was a time she thought she could love her husband. He was a good man and he was reliable. If he said hed do something, he did it. He was not handsome, but he was not ugly. To Margaret he seemed to be all angles, and he walked as though his shoes were too big for him, though she knew they were not. When he combed his hair it always looked too slick for the rest of his appearance. During the first months of their marriage, Margaret was busy furnishing their home, and then getting ready for her baby. She made frequent visits to the public library, bringing back enough books to last a week or so. She knew after her babys delivery it would be difficult to leave the house to get books, so she jammed as much reading into her days as she could. When Raymond was born, Andy could not contain his excitement. It was as though the birth of his son gave value to his life. He not only had a child, but he had a son. He was pleased that Margaret decided not to nurse her baby because he could then give Raymond his bottle, holding him firmly in his arms, first testing the warmth of the milk on his wrist. Margarets parents and Andy delighted in watching Raymond change from an infant to a toddler, taking his first steps, cutting his first teeth, crawling, and speaking his first words. Not that Margaret didnt also love to see Raymonds progress, but it was just that years of child caring responsibility weighed heavily on her. She knew it was not motherly to feel the way she did, so she tried to change her feelings, checking out child-growth books from the library, and studying things she needed to do for Raymond. She especially took to heart the suggestion from one child expert who wrote, Even a very young child needs reassurance that he is loved. He should never be fed and then abruptly put back in his crib. There are two kinds of

nourishment a small child needs: food and love. When feeding time is over, hold your child in your arms and talk to him in soothing tones. There was no question she loved Raymond. When he put his small arms around her neck she sensed a mixture of rapture and guilt. She would always resolve to show him more affection, but when she nuzzled him and made baby sounds she was forcing it, it didnt feel natural. Nevertheless, their small family settled into a smooth routine. When Raymond was three years old, every morning after Andy left for work, Margaret took the curlers out of her hair, put on whatever her arms reached for in the closet, got Raymond out of his diaper that he may or may not have wet during the night, dressed him, fed him, made her bed, did the breakfast dishes, put Raymond in his stroller and wheeled him to the playground two blocks away. Too small to play by himself, he relied on Margaret to help him up the stairs to the top of the slide and wait for him at the bottom. She pushed him in the swing interminably. Knowing it was good for Raymond to be in the park, when the weather was good, she stayed there with him for over two hours. On rainy days when they couldnt go to the park, Margaret walked Raymond to the new Emeryville public library where they selected picture-books for toddlers. Sometimes when it rained too hard to even venture out doors, Margaret cut figures out of magazines and made up stories with the cut-out people that Raymond played with. She longed for the days when he wouldnt need her as a playmate. Then she could read, and she could write the stories shed been making up for Raymond. Andys days began differently than Margarets. So as not to wake her with a noisy alarm clock, he replaced that with a shake-awake alarm he put under his pillow. He maneuvered himself out of bed, barely disturbing the covers, gathered his clothes set up the night before, with clean socks and clean underwear, and dressed in the bathroom. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal, drank a cup of freshly

perked coffee Margaret had prepared the night before. He put his sandwich, apple, and piece of cake in his metal lunch box, peeked in on his sleeping son and smiled. Then he crept down the back stairs and out onto the street, starting his 1953 Chevy coupe that he drove the fifteen miles to the Pacific Gas and Electric Company Central Plant in Oakland where he picked up his work schedule for the day. He greeted and was greeted by fellow workers as they were disbursed to their various sections of town, driving singly or in pairs in the brown Pacific Gas and Electric Company pick-up trucks. Andy would not think of anything except his work until he arrived back home in the evening, heard the screen door bang open, and saw his little laughing son rushing toward him. It was the sweetest moment of the day. Occasionally Margaret would greet Andy with news of a break in their routine Were having barbecue at Sanders tonight. As soon as you clean up we can go. Andy didnt tell her hed rather stay home. Neighborhood barbecues were all the same to Andy. It didnt seem to matter whose backyard the charcoal smoke came from. It was the same neighborhood people, the three or four cans of beer per man, the same, How do you want your steak? He actually liked barbecues better when they were held in his backyard because he didnt have to walk around and mix with his neighbors. He could just stand at the grill and watch the steaks get brown and then take the orders. The man at the grill was the most important man at the barbecue, and his job was the easiest. Margaret would have prepared salad and warmed up packaged French fries. Together they later served ice cream and cookies and basked in the thank yous as it got dark and the neighbors left. At Sanders, where neighbors teenage daughters shepherded toddlers and other youngsters to the backyard play equipment, Andy could hear Raymonds squeals of happiness as his son played with other children. After about an hour of beer drinking and neighborhood conviviality, everyone was seated on benches at the

picnic table, children wedged in between parents. Raymond climbed up into Andys lap, nestled in the crook of one elbow, and sucked his thumb in total contentment. Hes sleepy, Margaret said. Ill take him home. Ill eat this and then take him home. You stay. No. Margaret said. Lets stay. Hes okay. After about a half hour with Raymond sound sleep, Andy suggested again that he leave. Margaret, laughing at the mans joke across from her, indicated that Andy should stay. Well leave in a minute, she told him. Andy would wait, though he was weary of forcing laughter to seem jovial, which he knew Margaret wanted him to be. Eventually when the barbecue party began to leave, Andy carried the sleeping Raymond to their home a few doors away, Margaret walking by his side. When they were undressing for bed Andy began thinking of the happy noises the children made in the playground area at the barbecue. He ventured, Its not good for Raymond to be an only child. Margaret straightened herself and said, Weve had this conversation before, Andy. I dont want another child. She slipped her nightgown over her head, her back to Andy. Andy watched all her movements wanting to embrace her, but knowing she would resist. He watched her slide in between the sheets, facing the wall. He sat down in the bedroom chair and wondered why he was there. Obviously Margaret was not happy with him. He thought at times he would do her a favor and leave, but he loved her. She had been smart in school and he was so average. She was so much more than he was. He couldnt leave her. He would be nothing without her, and heart-broken without Raymond.

The day after that barbecue, Margaret woke up to the sound of light rain on her window and immediately felt gloomy. There would be no playground today. After breakfast she bundled Raymond in his sheepskin lined jacket, put on his goulashes and waterproof hat, put her raincoat over her sweater and skirt, stretched rubber protectors over her shoes, picked up the umbrella and locked the front door as they left the house. She walked as fast as Raymond could go. When they stopped at one of the street lights, they both got splattered by passing cars. Raymond started to cry but there wasnt time for consoling because the walk sign came on and they had to practically run across the wide street which was awkward for Margaret, holding Raymond with one hand and the umbrella with the other. The librarian who had become, as they said, her rainy-day friend, always welcomed them cheerfully. While Raymond was looking at his picture books, she and the librarian exchanged comments about various books Margaret had read or was checking out. The librarian would save newly published books she thought Margaret would enjoy before she catalogued them and put them on the shelves. She watched Margaret and Raymond walk into the Childrens Room and one by one, select large picture books. Then, arms loaded, they went to the short table with child-sized chairs, piling all the books in front of Raymond. You stay here, honey. Ill be right back. Im going to get a book. Raymond held a book toward her. Heres a book, Mommie. No. I mean a Mommie book. Like I usually do. You look at your books. Ill bring a book back here and read mine. Ill come right back. Okay? If she didnt get an okay, from Raymond, he might start a noisy protest. Okay, he muttered. In the library stacks she took a Somerset Maugham book back to

the Childrens Room and sat in one of the small chairs next to Raymond. She had read The Moon and Sixpence in high school, but she would enjoy it again. She remembered the first part clearly where Gauguin left England, quitting his job, abandoning his wife and children, and going to Paris to paint, without any money or a place to stay. When she read it before, she did not understand how he could desert his family. She kept thinking about his wife and children back in Paris while he became a painter in Tahiti. As she read that book back in high school she kept hoping Gauguin would have a change of heart and go back to his family. How could anyone need to paint so badly hed leave his children? She wanted to read more sitting in the library, but Raymonds interruptions were persistent enough for her to put her book on the pile of books to carry home, deciding to read more later, maybe after Raymond was in bed. When Andy came home from work and told her they would be going out to dinner the next night, she was surprised and confused. It will be your birthday, he explained. I know, but we dont usually do anything. This time we will. I talked to Henry at work today. Yes? He said there was a restaurant near where he lives in Berkeley that is good. Is it expensive? Places in Berkeley are expensive. I dont think so. I have money. Ive been saving. Margaret wondered how he could save any money. He gave her his monthly one hundred fifty dollar pay check which she used to pay bills and buy groceries, after she gave him twenty-five dollars cash for personal expenses. She didnt know how he spent his money since he used their Standard Oil credit card for gas and then she paid the bill when it came in the mail.

On their dinner-out, leaving Raymond with Margarets parents, they enjoyed raviolis, even with red wine, and later Spimoni ice cream. Andy pleased with himself, told her he had a birthday present for her which would be delivered the next day. A present to be delivered? That was another surprise. Yes. Its a surprise. Way too big for me to carry, he laughed. Margaret wondered, puzzled. To be delivered? Too big? Could it be a car? Some of their neighbors had two cars. What freedom those wives had. She could picture herself driving alone. She smiled the rest of the evening and leaned against Andy as he drove them home, giving in to her fantasy of having her own car.. In bed Margaret permitted an embrace and even sex. Though she had gone to bed happy and maybe a bit tipsy not being used to drinking wine, she soon stiffened and was repulsed at Andys clumsiness, though she pretended enjoyment, not wanting to hurt his feelings. The next day when she and Raymond came home from the playground, a delivery truck drove to the front of their house. Mrs. Marshall? the young driver asked. Yes, she answered, confused. He put his clipboard away, opened the back of his truck, lowered the trucks step and wheeled out a huge cardboard container. Smiling he said, Heres your new General Electric dryer. Margaret looked to the ground not wanting the young man to see her shocking disappointment. So this was her car? This was why she was happy last night? How silly of me, she thought. Wheeling the cardboard hulk, and still smiling, the delivery boy asked her where she wanted it. On the porch next to the washing machine I guess. It says here Mr. Marshall will connect it. When the carton was emptied Raymond crawled into the box.

Kids like to play in these big boxes, the delivery man said. They call them their houses. Want me to put this box in your backyard? Or I could haul it away. No, she said, barely hearing him, in the backyard will be fine Andy came home all smiles, anxious to see Margarets pleasure. She camouflaged her disappointment as he spent that evening happily connecting the dryer. Last week I had 220 volts run to the house, he explained. I knew youd be at the playground in the morning so you didnt even see our men working here. It really was a surprise, wasnt it? he asked, proud of himself. Margaret had never seen him so happy as when he was setting up the dryer and connecting it to the new outlet in the wall. When he turned it on and Margaret heard the motor and saw the drum going around and around, she felt ashamed at not showing him any appreciation at his thoughtful gift. Thank you, Andy. I really need the dryer. Especially in winter.

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For days she felt out of sorts, disappointed that she had put her hopes on a car. Of course that could never happen. She tried to reason with herself, and she wondered why she had imagined such an extravagant gift.. She became a little nauseous thinking about how silly she was. Her whole situation depressed her. At the playground one of the fathers she had seen at times, but who had never spoken to her before, sat on the bench beside her. Are you okay? he asked. Yes. Why? You are so pale. Oh. Yes. I . . . forgot to put on any makeup. Are you sure thats all. You look like . . . . Yes. Thats all. She wanted him to leave yet she held him there when she asked, are you a doctor or something? Not yet. Still just pre-med. Margaret wasnt listening carefully because she was watching Raymond on a teeter-totter where he had never been before. She saw an older boy showing Raymond how to push his feet when his end of the totter reached the ground. The man next to her saw her concern. Your boy is all right. Thats my boy, Kenny. Hes good with younger kids. Yes. I see that. I was going to get Raymond, but he looks like hes okay. She relaxed and for the first time looked at the man next to her. Youre really in pre-med? Yep. How many years does that take?

I have six more months at Cal. Then go to U.C. Med School in San Francisco. How long does that take? Four years. Then youre a doctor? No. Then I intern at some hospital for four years. Thats a long time. An awful long time. You must be rich. He laughed. Not at all. Uncle Sams paying for me. G.I.Bill. But you have a family to support, she said pointing to Kenny. Yes. But my wife works. I work. We have a mission together to get me through this. Youre lucky, Margaret said. She was wistful, wishing Andy cared about anything she cared about. He saw her contemplating. He changed the subject. By the way, he said, my name is Larry. Margaret gave him her name. How old is Raymond? Larry asked. Hes almost four. Be in school soon, he said. Yes. Thank God! Im sorry. Did I say something to upset you? he asked. She almost cried, wanting to let go, wanting him to leave her alone. Why was he so nosey? So youre a psychiatrist too? she asked. Thats part of the mission. Have to be an M.D. first. My God, youll be an old man. So? Youll spend all your life getting there.

So? At that moment, Raymonds friend Kenny hopped off the teetertotter, running off to something he saw, sending Raymonds end of the totter banging to the ground. Margaret and Larry rushed to soothe the screaming Raymond. Larry called Kenny back, and scolded him and then they both walked to their car. Margaret watched them drive away, fantasizing running after him, to talk more. Silly me again, she said to herself. She looked for Larry each day at the playground, but didnt see him until the end of the week. You look better, he said when they were pushing their children together on the swings. Yes. I feel better. Ive been forcing myself to eat. Hows school? she asked. Its good on Fridays. No classes. Just catch-up lab time. When you dont bring Kenny here, a woman brings him. Is that your wife? She looks so young. Larry smiled. No. Thats our baby sitter. She helps us five days a week, but on Fridays, or any day I dont have morning classes, I bring Kenny. Its our father-son time. Does Raymonds father come to the park? Larry asked. No. He works. Whats he do? Hes a lineman for P.G.&E. Whats he do when hes not working? Mostly he listens to football games on weekends. Thats what his friends at work talk about, so he says he needs to have something to say. Larry kept pushing the swing and looking at Margaret, quizzically.

What do you do when your husband is listening to football? Oh, I dont know. Read, when Im not doing something with Raymond. Besides reading? Writing. Ive tried writing some short stories. I used to write in high school. My teachers told me I was good at it. Im going to write when Raymond starts school. Right now I cant write. Hes too young. Too many interruptions. Ill wait. Why wait? Thats what I have to do. You could wait your whole life away. If you really wanted to do it, youd do it. Maybe you could take a writing course at U.C.Extension. I cant do that. I have Raymond. I dont want to tell you how you could, but if you really want to write, or paint, or sing, or, he laughed, study medicine, youd find a way, even with Raymond. After that, anytime she saw Larry at the playground she waited for him to bring up the subject of her writing, but he didnt mention it. So he didnt know she had phoned the U.C. Extension as he had suggested, and received a schedule of classes. Nor did Andy know what she had done. She talked to her mother about taking care of Raymond one day a week. Id love to. But what are you going to do? If youll take care of Raymond, Ill take a course at Cal. In what? Creative writing. But you couldnt get in to Cal. How can you do that now? Its different. Its an extension course. Anyone can take an

extension course. Its not for units. I wouldnt graduate or anything. Well Im glad for you, dear. I think thats a good idea. I dont know why you couldnt get into Cal. Youre smart. Not smart enough, Mom. I couldnt understand geometry. You have to have geometry to go to a university, and I couldnt do it. It didnt matter how good my grades were in anything else. Margaret worried what Andys reaction would be, and was surprised at his response. It will be good for you, he said. I think you have enough to do taking care of Raymond and the house. But one day a week it wont hurt to get out and see other people. Each Wednesday morning, after riding the bus up University Avenue, Margaret felt uplifted when she walked on to the campus. Her class in Wheeler Hall was conducted as a seminar, where students read aloud what they had written for the weeks assignment, and then listened to the instructor and other students critique their writing. Margaret could feel herself coming alive when she wrote. Doing a writing assignment, she would be sitting at her kitchen table in the evening when Raymond was in bed sleeping, as was Andy in his easy chair in the living room, and when she started her sentences and felt them take, she could actually feel her heart beat faster. She loved the assignments. The initial one was to express their memory of the first house they lived in as small children, with many considerations such as possibly the noise of creaking floors, or kitchen sounds and smells. To Margaret, reflections came easily. She even remembered the flower design on her bedroom wallpaper and what she thought about it then. There were a couple of times when she was writing as the dinner was cooking before Andy came home, when she became so engrossed she didnt know the potatoes were burning until she smelled them. One evening after she and Andy had put Raymond to bed and Andy

picked up the newspaper to finish reading, she asked if she could read something to him. Her instructor had said it was a learning experience to actually hear what one had written. The particular assignment was about peoples facial expressions. Thats nice, Andy said when she had finished. I can almost see those kids youre writing about. But what are you going to do with something like that? Nothing. Its just an exercise to teach us different things. She wanted to tell him more about how she had tried to express the look of surprise and betrayal on Raymonds face when the end of his teeter-totter banged to the ground, and his friend Kenny ran away. But Andy had picked up the newspaper again. Thats nice, honey, he said, looking up, seeing that Margaret was waiting for him to say something more. Margaret felt let down. She didnt know why her happiness evaporated so quickly. That next Wednesday she read that same paragraph to her class. Her classmates and the instructor found almost nothing to critique, although as he said, not complimenting a work is a critique also. Through the weeks she began to look forward to criticisms and suggestions, where she previously had felt hurt and personally offended when anyone said something negative about her writing. It was more than just the class that stimulated Margaret. She looked forward to the after-class discussion at the Telegraph Avenue coffee shop where six or seven of the class met and talked about their writing ambitions, or about their personal lives. All were in their thirties and forties, with more women than men. There were several housewives and mothers who were looking to improve the writing theyd had to put aside in the first years of raising their children. One man worked in the mens department at Mervyns which he hated. Hed always admired Hemingway and Faulkner and wanted to learn how to incorporate some of their style into his own writing. The other man was a civil engineer who didnt like the exactness of his career, though it paid well. His plan was to stay at his job because it

would support his writing. Margaret was impressed with his looks, but not with his writing. He probably was a good engineer, but he had no confidence as a writer. But that was something one learned, she told herself. The next time Margaret saw Larry at the playground she told him she had signed up for an extension class at U.C. Surprisingly he hugged her. Im proud of you, he said. While their children went up and down the slide, and Margaret and Larry were engrossed in conversation, Margaret realized all their talk was all about her. Some day, she said, weve got to talk about what youre doing. Right now what Im doing hardly interests me, so I cant expect it to interest you. Like what? What does a pre-med student do besides go to class and learn to memorize? He laughed. Im making slides. If I were a doctor Id tell my nurse to make a slide, or send something to the lab. But I have to know how to do it myself. Its tedious and it has to be exact. Not like your writing. You can kind of play at it. He saw Margaret frown. I mean, he explained, youll be able to bring a character into your writing and if it doesnt fit your story line, you can drop him, or change him. I envy you that looseness. At the same time. . . well, Im going on and on. Thats interesting. I understand. I never thought of writing that way.

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