Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1948-06-11
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FICTION
Corner

THE headlights Of the blue coupe
L flashed on in the driveway.
Joyce, who had been watching from
IN upstairs window, reached hur-
riedly for the coat lying on her bed.
As she slipped into it she made
last quick survey of the room to
see that she had not forgotten any
thing. By the door her neatly packed
suitcase stood ready, and even now
the room had that deserted, imper-
sonal atmosphere a room acquires
when its occupant goes away.
Her heightened emotions threw
an unnatural clarity over the famil-
lar scene. Little things she had not
noticed for weeks sprang suddenly
into focus. A silly little horn hanging
on the dresser was reminder of
a dance Terry had taken her to
while they were still in college. He
had kissed her that night for the
first time. The photograph stuck
In the edge of the mirror: Terry
with a horrible grimace pretending
to clutch her throat as she knelt in
supplication in the sand. That had
been taken the day the gang drove
out to Three Tree Point for picnic.
"How young we were!" she
thought wistfully. How terribly,
carelessly young! And we'll never
be young like that again!"
She shivered and drew her coat
closer around her shoulders. For
tonight was the end of her girlhood,
the end of the careless, silly years.
After tonight nothing would ever be
quite the same again. Better, per-
haps. Oh, yes-far, far better! But
not the same, ever again.
She caught her breath in a
sudden panic, and for one hor-
rible, despairing moment she
thought, 81 don't want to go
through with it! Pm afraid"
Then with laughing sigh at her
absurdity, she shook the mood from
her and hurried out of the room
without looking back.
Safely in the car with her suit
case tucked under her feet, she
relaxed comfortably against the
shoulder of the young man behind
the steering wheel.
Look, Terry, there's new moon
tonight. Is that a good omen, do
you suppose?"
st hope so, darling" He looked
tenderly down at the delicate oval
of her face, childish mop of brown
curls and the small hands folded
carefully in her lap.
"Oh, Joyce, 'he exclaimed abrupt
1y, "don't you think we should
have told your mother after all?
Are you sure that you want to do
it this way?"
FLUSH, Terry" She patted his
knee. Lets not go into that
again. It's too late, anyway. You
know Mother, she thinks I'm still
a baby! She wanted us to wait at
least another year"
"She might be right at that"
Terry replied uncertainty. Maybe
you are too young"
"Nonsense!" She shook her curls
emphatically. "a girl knows when
she's ready. Wasn't it lucky
Mother decided to go to California
when she did? Everything worked
out beautifully. Now she needn't
know a thing about it until it's all
over.
Darling" h" voice grew pen
sive. "Why do you suppose it is
that middle-aged people can't seem
to remember what it's like to be
young and in love? Don't they
remember the beauty and the re-
lentless urgency? Don't they know
that there has to come time when
you've got to have it all and even
everything is not enough" Her
voice faltered, and in the silence
between them the words were like
dark wings beating.
Terry reached down and took her
hand in hard grip.