THE END OF IT ALL

by Clarkson Crane

The two women were sitting side by side on stools in the neighborhood bar and looking at themselves and each other in the mirror behind the bottles.

"Ha!" said Mollie, the one with heavy make-up and hair dyed red. "You look like you was going places."

"Hospital," said Arlene. "TO see Papa.

"How is Pete?" asked Mac, the old, tired-looking bartender, as he shoved a beer toward me.

"Poor guy," said Arlene. sniffled.

She

"Take it easy, honey," said Mollie.

Arlene's hair was dyed black; her lavender hat gave her face a purplish tint. She turned vague eyes in my direction, but I doubt whether she saw me.

"He's a fine man," she said. "Papa's a fine man.

"You couldn't've married a better one, honey," said Mollie.

one

"To think of a guy like Papa laying there day after day," said Arlene. "It does something to me. You know that, Mac? It does something to me."

"Tough all right," said Mac.

"It does something to me right here," Arlene went on, a wrinkled hand on her breast. "Right here. You know what I mean, Mac? A guy like him. Never sick a day in his life."

"What does the doc say?" asked Mac. Tears welled in Arlene's eyes.

"Look, honey," said Mollie, "never mind what the doc says.

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