Voices
“They say,” Darlene begins, “nightmares can give you peace of mind.”
“In the daytime, you mean?” Helen plays along.
“Mm, supposed to blow off steam at night and have a head like a calm pond the next day.”
“Dream therapy. Cheaper than what the doctors charge.”
“Anyway they wrote it that way in the paper.”
“What paper?”
“One Frank brings home. When he cleans the cars he finds most everything. This watch!” Darlene holds up her left wrist and shows Helen her prize.
“They don’t have to turn stuff in?”
“Who’s ta know?”
“He could get a reward.”
“Mise-well get it while you can. Anyway, it goes to Grand Central when they turn it in.”
“So he brings everything home?”
“Only the small things.”
Helen begins to laugh and the laughter spreads to Darlene. They touch each other’s arms in a half embrace, as if the giggles are weakening their legs.
“Can’t you hear the boss,” Helen gasps. “Nice briefcase you have there, but if you didn’t come in with it you can’t go home with it.”
“Most of it’s worthless junk, anyway,” Darlene says, “like umbrellas and garbage, coats and hats and gloves, lots’a cell phones. The pay is good — not as good as a carpenter and stuff like that — he’s looking at a good pension in a couple years.”
“And Darlene will be leaving us.”
“Thank God!”
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