Why Sarah Ran Away with the Veterinarian Read Online Free

apologized for them being so sharp, but you could tell he thought it was a selling point. Then he took two quarters and cut them almost in half with the super-duper scissors. He bent them out like butterflies and stuck a little hole in each quarter with the ice pick. Sarah ran wire through the hole and made earrings. Those were her favorite for I don’t know how long. But everytime she wore them, in my mind I could see her fingers dripping red. I can’t remember when she stopped wearing them. Last I heard Roy was selling Amway, and Judy was selling real estate. Sarah still writes Judy, or did. Don’t know if they ever got married.
    Sarah did her best to fix up the inside of Unit #17. We had this tiny bedroom with a double bed that touched three walls. Sarah always slept by the window so she could see out. One night I came home, and there she was—barefooted, jeans, India blouse that never looked ironed, all wrapped up in a rainbow. She’d gotten this huge rainbow poster from the Dixie store—she was still working there at the time—some fruit punch advertisement, no, 7UP ad, I think. She cut out the rainbow and was about to glue it to the wall, the one at the foot of the bed. I helped her and it really looked nice, but I asked her why she didn’t put it on the opposite wall, above the bedstead. That seemed the logical place to me.
    â€œI thought about that, it hanging over our heads,” she said, “but I’d rather see it when I wake up.” She back-flopped onto the bed and rested her feet against the wall. “Now, I can touch it with my toes!” I jumped on top of her and we dedicated the new rainbow then and there.
    We stayed at Mimosa two years. Guess the rainbow is still in Unit #17 if the trailer’s standing. Sarah wanted to take it with us but she couldn’t get it off the wall without ripping it. She did tear one end a little, but glued it back. “I’ll have to leave it for the next couple,” she said, “so they can touch the rainbow when they make love.”
    I learned a lot those first two years at Whittaker’s. I read every bit of literature that came out—motors, wheelbase, structural advantages on each model. I’d always thumbed through Consumer Report and Consumer Guide , but I started studying them until I could out quote customers who came in with the latest issue. I could even tell them which loafbread they ought to be eating. It paid off. I got return customers. They’d be back to trade before their twenty-four months finance was up. These days, return customers tend to wait longer, three or four years. But back then, I had buyers like Dr. Sams. He’d trade in his Cadillac as soon as the new-car smell wore off.
    I earned enough to get us out of the trailer and into an apartment complex, a town house. The guy who owned the place was a friend of Kate’s, probably more than a friend. He offered us half rent if Sarah would collect the other tenants’ rent and field their complaints, call the plumber, stuff like that. Sarah jumped at the chance. She got to meet all the tenants and she was really good at handling complaints. Except for one, I remember. Pairs of apartments were like mirrors so the bedrooms butted up against each other and the dividing wall was cracker thin. The bedrooms were practically touching. The couple in #21 enjoyed romping around and shouting obscenities at each other while they made love. The couple in #22, however, didn’t quite see it as a turn-on and beat on the wall the whole time. They both called Sarah and complained about each other. Sarah mentioned it to Donna. Donna told Andrew. At the very next Sunday dinner he spoke up.
    â€œSarah,” he said, “Donna tells me you’re having trouble with two couples at your apartments,” he touched his collar, “over sexual expression.”
    Donna looked down fast and started rounding up her English peas. Sarah turned