Don't Think a Single Thought by Diana Cambridge

Author:Diana Cambridge
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: literary, fiction
ISBN: 9781999630508
Publisher: Louise Walters Books
Published: 2019-09-26T04:00:00+00:00

1950

She’d done so well, on a scholarship to Vassar, that she managed to win a guest editorship at Mademoiselle. She found a one-room walk-up in Manhattan, with a tiny shower. She slept, cooked, and worked in her room – and loved it. Furnished lovingly with thrift-shop rugs, bright red enamel coffee pot, and plain white plates and jugs. She painted the walls white, her bedspread was faded patchwork, she used an old wooden table as her desk and always had a white jug with fresh flowers from the market.

Life was grand. New, unspoiled, rolled out just for her. She sent letters to her adoptive parents, but never considered going home – of course, they asked her. She never wanted to see… that place… again. Never.

Back then, if there had been one small problem in her fresh, intoxicating life, it was sleep. If she’d worked late, really late, she was able to come home and fall into bed, woken by her alarm, it seemed, five minutes later. But when she was home at a reasonable time, she went to bed around midnight. And then began to notice the street noises – cars revving, bikes squealing, doors slamming, people yelling or laughing, dust carts groaning, music from other apartments. She tried ear plugs, eye masks, even putting on her own quiet “yogic” music, but sometimes nothing would send her to sleep.

Tina, one of her friends, gave her a few of her own “precious” sleeping pills.

‘What more friendship can a woman show than by giving her friend some of her own sleepers?’ laughed Tina, warning, ‘You have to go down on your knees to a doctor to get them.’

Which Emma wasn’t prepared to do. She never wanted to see the inside of a clinic again – though, of course, she’d been “fixed up”. Not pleasant, and she didn’t always use the rubber thing they gave to her, but it was one of the chores you had to endure.

She was feeling elated and happy. She’d done a short story reading – a story from her Vassar thesis; a story that had already been bought by Mademoiselle – along with other young writers at a small Village bookshop. The evening had a college feel, with free wine and lots of students…

Several others had read their stories. She was thinking of going for a martini with them, yet had an early interview for her magazine the next day, and anyway, felt almost too happy to socialize. Trying to work out the logic of her thoughts – was there any? – she noticed again a teenage boy at the back of the shop, leafing through books but glancing at her from time to time. He seemed… familiar… anxious, but… on the brink of saying something extraordinary to her…

She moved towards him.

‘Mikey?’ He nodded, too choked up to speak. Tears rushed to Emma’s eyes. Her brother, Mikey. They hugged, both gulping back tears, trying not to attract attention – though that was impossible. Other customers must have thought they were lovers, reunited after a long time.

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