Forty Words for Sorrow

"Yeah, I have a hobby." Killing people, she was tempted to say, just to see the expression on his silly brown face. "Special things I like to do."

"I am glad, Miss Soames. Because you will never be a success in dealing with the public. You are lacking the required sympathy."

"Who cares? Sympathy is for weaklings."

"For weaklings? You have been reading some terrible philosopher, I take it. That poor lady has no money. It hurts her when prices go up. Can you not spare a kind word for her?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What does it hurt you to say, 'Yes it's a shame,' or some such? You are not losing anything by it."

They were interrupted by a dark-haired lady who bought six boxes of henna. It was the beginning of the late rush. Someone else purchased damn near a year's supply of My-lanta Gas. One day they stock up on Kaopectate, next day it's Ex-Lax, Edie thought. We get 'em coming and going. A young woman bought three different cold remedies and shampoo and nail polish and conditioner. A curly-haired woman bought stuff to straighten her hair, and a girl with perfectly straight hair that Edie envied bought stuff to make hair curl. Edie herself had tried every remedy under the sun- as a Pharma-City employee, she got a ten-percent discount- but none of the ointments, creams, and steroids made the slightest difference to the dead glare of her skin. "Hey, Edie," she remembered one of her high-school contemporaries shouting at her. "You been sticking your head in the oven again? Next time don't use a microwave!" She carried the memory like an old bullet lodged in her rib cage.

A boy bought a dozen Sheiks from her. Condoms were kept behind the counter, and the boys never bought them from Margo; they felt safer with an ugly woman. Margo was working away at her cash register, happy as a lark. Margo was such a birdbrain that she actually enjoyed the stupid job. Since Edie had stopped speaking to her, Margo was at a loss during slow times; she would pull out her People magazine and flip through the same old tired stories, month after month, cracking her gum.

Edie was slipping on her parka when a man in a dark-blue blazer said, "Miss Soames, would you come with me, please?"

He was with the security company. He would catch shoplifters and yell at them in front of the whole store to humiliate them. Struk, his name was. Edie followed him into the little office upstairs, where a fat female security guard sat in front of a surveillance monitor. Struk pointed at her purse. "Miss Soames, would you open that, please?"

"Why? I haven't taken anything."

"Pharma-City reserves the right to spot-check its employees. You signed a release when you were hired."

Edie opened her purse. Struk carefully fingered his way through her Kleenex, her address book, her chewing gum. He even went through her wallet. Did he suppose she was hiding condoms in it?

"Would you turn out your pockets, please?"

"Why?"

"Just do it. Otherwise, I'll have Franny here pat you down. Let's get it over with."

Two minutes later she was back outside the office, straightening her purse. Margo was joking with Struk as he led her into the office. They left the door open, and Edie heard Struk go through the drill once more.

"Help yourself," Margo said. "Nothing in there but makeup and chewing gum."

"Uh-huh." There was a pause. "And I bet you're gonna tell me you have a prescription for these."

"Are those pills? I didn't put those in there. They're not mine, I swear. I don't know how they got in there."

"Don't lie to me. This is grounds for dismissal. There must be fifty diazepam here. How did they get into your purse?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't! I didn't take them, you have to believe me! Someone must've put them in my purse!"

"And why would anyone do a thing like that?"

Margo had broken down in tears by then, and Edie didn't hang around to hear the rest. She hurried downstairs and out into the shopping mall. Suddenly, she was in such a good mood that she went straight into Kmart and bought herself a new pair of shoes.

41

WHEN she got home from the mall Edie kicked off her snowboots, which were soaked through with slush, and went upstairs in damp socks to check on Gram. The old biddy was snoring away, mouth hanging open like a garage door. She hadn't even asked about the gunshots the other day, more concerned about the shouting. Time to check on the prisoner.

The three bolts were still in place. Edie put her ear to the door and listened for a full minute before opening it. Eric had told her not to speak to the prisoner unless he was there, too, but they'd been holding him so long, Edie could no longer resist. What was the point of having a prisoner, if you couldn't show him who was boss?

He was seated upright in the chair, his wrists and ankles still securely fastened. The blanket had fallen off, leaving him completely naked. His entire body was pimpled with goose bumps.

He raised his head when Edie came in. Above the taped mouth, the eyes were red and pleading.