VASSI
By ART LEWIS
The apartment was empty. So
was she. But not for long.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, January 1961.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The apartment is called a single. It contains a Murphy bed, a chest ofdrawers, an overstuffed chair, a sofa, a coffee table, a seventeen-inchtelevision set, a bookcase partially filled with the volumes A throughF of an encyclopedia from the supermarket, assorted paperback books,and a radio that doesn't work. In the ceiling is a fixture with twotwenty-five-watt bulbs. A short hallway leads to the bathroom and thekitchen.
Julia Fenway stood outside her apartment, fumbling in her bag for herkeys. She had never had any trouble finding her keys before. Her pursewas always neat and orderly. And she was breathing hard. Breathinghard from the short walk from the bus at the corner and down the longcorridor to the private, the lonesome apartment door.
Those keys! Where are those keys! I'm becoming a regular pack ratlately. Look at that bag! Did you ever see so much junk? She thrusther hand deep inside and felt around. A crumpled kleenex, worn-outlipstick, change purse, pencils, movie stubs ... a coldness, the keys.Her heart was pounding. She pressed the hand with the keys to herbosom. It was pounding. At least it was working.
She managed to get the door open just as the landlady's door down thehall gushed forth cooked cabbage odor and Mrs. Shultz stuck her headout. Julia closed her door behind her until she heard the lock click.Of all the people in the world, why was it the Mrs. Shultzes sheattracted?
At the sound of the lock, the cat, Belle, poked her head out of thekitchen. She walked lazily into the room, rubbing her side along thewall to scratch off the sleep. Then she leaped to the top of thedresser and started to wash herself.
Julia stood with her back against the door. Her arms, tired of reachingout, hung limply against her sides. A ray of sunlight streamed throughthe partly open window and a little pool of it snuggled on her pillow.It had been such a long ride in from Beverly Hills and on two buses.She had sat in the back where it wasn't so crowded and the smell ofexhaust was still in her nostrils.
She walked over to the dresser and put her purse down beside the catand ran her fingers caressingly through the soft fur. Belle took aswipe with a hind paw. Julia rested her head on the dresser.
"I'm going to die, Belle."
The cat sat up and lifted a front paw. She washed it with littledelicate strokes from her tongue.
Julia moved over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. She slippedher shoes off. Her feet hurt. They always hurt in heels. Why does oneget dressed up to see the doctor? He could have told her she had sixmonths to live while she was wearing flats.
He didn't actually blurt it out as I walked in the door. He fooledaround under that sheet for a long time. And then he said it. No, notthen either. He just looked pained and hurt and a little white aroundthe lips and he told me to get dressed and come into his office. He hadthe lab reports on his desk and he pounded on them and he said you'reas good as dead now!
I wish he had! Then I could hate him. I could hate instead of feelingnumb all over. He didn't want to tell me anything. Just get ready foran operation. No, there really wasn't any rush. But soon. And then Idragged it