It's never too late

fiction by j. lorna strayer

Marian sat on her favorite lounge chair near the picture window trying to give her attention to Jack Kerouac's The Subterraneans. Janice had sent the book indicating that Marian might find it interesting. At times the words seemed to be meaningless ramblings. Here was another soul fighting his way, struggling to know and accept himself, she thought.

With every movement on the road Marian found herself glancing towards the mailbox at the end of the drive. It was almost time for the delivery. There may be the letter from Sue.

She tried to return to the book, but it was no use. Sue's face rose from the pages; sentences became caught up with thoughts of Sue.

It had been two days since Norman had phoned to tell her that Sue had a breast removed and was still in the hospital. Sue didn't know he was calling. She had made him promise that he wouldn't, but his concern about his wife led him to break his word. Norman reported that all of the fight seemed to be out of her and she didn't seem to care.

Norman's voice broke. "She says she's lived her life and it doesn't matter. Marian, I'm so worried. There wouldn't be any life for me without Sue."

The weak always want more, Marian thought.

"If you were only here," he said, "I'm sure it would do her good." "I'll come as soon as I can," she answered.

"No. She's writing to you. Wait until you get her letter. It will be better for her to tell you herself since she didn't want me to call."

At first Marian wanted to disregard Norman's advice, drop everything and rush to Sue. Then she realized that Sue would have called if she was wanted, if she was needed. Sue had Norman and Norman always came first.

Marian assumed that Janice didn't know about Sue, otherwise she would have mentioned Sue in the note that accompanied The Subterraneans. Janice was good about keeping her informed of happenings at "home"; helping her keep abreast with the times and delving into areas of obscurity. It was Janice who had told her about Existentialism and Zen; exposed her to Sade, Miller-and even the "little" magazine field.

Correspondence from Janice was always signed, "Janice and Louise," although Louise was content to remain in the background. It was something Marian understood. She always enjoyed spending an evening with them. They viewed each

one

12