Michael Malone - Weebly

oom at the Dingley Club. She hadn't wanted to lie
down with a Valium. She wanted to smack golf balls as
hard as she could. But the mocking wanton, Liberation,
chased poor Priss even into the sanctuary of the toilet,
for when she opened the stall, her daughter Katherine
looked up, startled, with one foot on the seat and one
hand extracting a diaphragm. "Oh!
You scared the shit out of me!" was the greeting her
child gave her.
"What are you doing?"
"It was bugging me. I don't think I had it in right."
"Where did you get that thing?"
Kate held it in the hands that had once with wonder
held up seashells. "At the health center. At Vassar. I
wanted to get off the pill for a while."
These were breakers crashing over Mrs. Ransom.
She closed the stall door, went to what had once been
called the powder room, a room wallpapered with tiny
pink roses, and sat down in front of the vanity table.
She didn't feel very vain. Soon Kate reared over her in
the mirror.
"Kate, are you sleeping with someone in town?" she