americanshortstories

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ 172 Ray Bradbury “I’m afraid.” She came to him and put her body against him and cried steadily. “Did you see? Did you feel ? It’s too real.” “Now, Lydia . . .” “You’ve got to tell Wendy and Peter not to read any more on Africa.” “Of course—of course.” He patted her. “Promise?” “Sure.” “And lock the nursery for a few days until I get my nerves settled.” “You know how difficult Peter is about that. When I punished him a month ago by locking the nursery for even a few hours—the tantrum he threw! And Wendy too. They live for the nursery.” “It’s got to be locked, that’s all there is to it.” “All right.” Reluctantly he locked the huge door. “You’ve been working too hard. You need a rest.” “I don’t know—I don’t know,” she said, blowing her nose, sitting down in a chair that immediately began to rock and comfort her. “Maybe I don’t have enough to do. Maybe I have time to think too much. Why don’t we shut the whole house off for a few days and take a vacation?” “You mean you want to fry my eggs for me?” “Yes.” She nodded. “And darn my socks?” “Yes.” A frantic, watery-eyed nodding. “And sweep the house?” “Yes, yes—oh yes!” “But I thought that’s why we bought this house, so we wouldn’t have to do anything?” “That’s just it. I feel like I don’t belong here. The house is wife and mother now and nursemaid. Can I compete with an African veldt? Can I give a bath and scrub the children as efficiently or quickly as the automatic scrub bath can? I can not. And it isn’t just me. It’s you. You’ve been awfully nervous lately.” “I suppose I have been smoking too much.” “You look as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself in this house, either. You smoke a little more every morning and drink a little more every afternoon and need a little more sedative every night. You’re beginning to feel unnecessary too.” “Am I?” He paused and tried to feel into himself to see what was really there.