All Good Women Read Online Free Page A

school, but she had lost both of them.
    What an exaggeration. She knew exactly where Ilse Stein was. Aunt Ruth had written last year to say she was playing concerts all over the East Coast. She had even sent an address. Of course Ann could get back in touch. They had corresponded for years after Ann’s family left New York. They promised passionately to stay in touch. They were going to be room-mates at Barnard. They even talked about their majors and the color of their bedspreads.
    Concentrate, how could an intelligent person concentrate on ‘qwertyuiop’? Humility, Ann, humility.
    Could you count on anything remaining stable? She mourned for Ilse, but she knew they would never recover the old trust. Look at Mama, who hung on to the past like a drowning woman clutching an anchor. Sometimes Ann frightened herself by looking in the mirror and seeing Mama’s hazel eyes. She even had the same brown speckle in her left eye. Spots on the eyes, now what did that portend? Did she really believe in things being portended? No more and no less than she believed in prayers. From moment to moment you had to believe in something. Thinking about Mama always caught her in these conundrums. Mama, Mama. How had she changed from that big, warm woman who banished all her children’s troubles to a heaving mass of sobs and, finally, of silence? Was it Papa’s fault? Surely Mama could have said, ‘No, David, we are not going to America’ or at least ‘We will teach the children Yiddish.’ Instead she strained to create an all-American home for him, unable to contain the confusion and grief and rage. The Yiddish slipped out — first as she talked to herself cooking supper or hanging out the wash, then in small endearments. So Ann was Chanela or Hanna or Anna when Papa wasn’t around. She picked up a lot of the language when Mama was conversing with her friends, before the friends stopped coming in person and Mama began to conjure them.
    â€˜That’s it, ladies.’ Miss Fargo’s voice cracked above the clatter. ‘Lunchtime. Let’s rest those fingers a while.’
    The cafeteria was a cold, damp room in the basement. Ann’s stomach turned as she considered what might have been boiling for years in the huge tureens. She was disappointed Moira couldn’t eat with her. She noticed that several tables were already filled with girls chatting and laughing. They all seemed quite stylish. She looked down at her straight green skirt and plain pumps. Perhaps she should dress up more tomorrow. But it would take more than a colorful dress to fit in. These girls had a carefree verve. Actually, they were probably just as nervous as she. That tall, skinny blond woman at the front of the line looked as if she might die of shyness. What about Miriam Schwartz? Ann wondered. She turned and saw her gossiping with the Lentman girl. Now, how did she know they were gossiping?
    â€˜Excuse me.’ Ann had run her tray into the one in front of her. She looked up to see it belonged to the Oriental student. The girl smiled self-consciously.
    Ann smiled back. ‘You look familiar.’
    Wanda blushed. ‘Aren’t you Ann Rose from Lowell High School?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Ann looked at her quizzically.
    â€˜Wanda Nakatani. I was the year behind you. My brother Howard was in your class. And I heard you speak at his — rather your — graduation.’
    â€˜Oh, yes, I remember Howard. What’s he doing?’
    â€˜Soup or sandwich?’ demanded the woman behind the counter.
    â€˜Sandwich,’ Ann replied cheerfully. ‘Egg salad please.’ She paid the cashier and said to Wanda, ‘Shall we sit together?’
    â€˜Oh, yes, I’d like that.’
    Ann thought how much Wanda resembled her brother. Why hadn’t she recognized Wanda? Of course seniors didn’t talk to juniors. Now she regarded Wanda as a long-lost sister. ‘I remember, you were