Modern Screen (Jan-Dec 1960)

Record Details:

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where they used to sit — so close, so much of the time— still there, just like always. She walked over to the couch now, and she sat. After a moment — the room was quiet, too quiet — she reached for the little TV switcher that sat on the end table to the right, blew off some of the dust that had gathered on it, and pressed a button. The television, across from her, lit up. A man said something to her about a 1960 car. '"Big, beautiful and roomy; a totally new idea in automobile styling," he said. "Made for you!" Beverly pressed another button. A girl in a ruffled dress sat at a piano, playing something Schubert-like, candlelight playing on her face. She looked over at a man, who stood listening to her, watching her. He began to approach her — Beverly pressed another button. This time she got a Western, two men in big hats arguing, slurringly. She pressed another button. Another western. Another button. A cartoon lady, advertising bread. Another button. Another. Another. Till she rose from the couch, suddenly, the room quiet once more, the television off. and walked over to the bar, in the far corner of the room. "My life won't be over . . ." Among all the bottles there, a small split of champagne had caught her eye. Learn 4810 facts about the stars! Which actress' husband wrote the music for "My Fair Lady"? Which actress writes children's stories? Which male star once wrote articles on fox-hunting? Find the answer to these and other interesting questions in MODERN SCREEN'S SUPER STAR CHART Just mail 25 cents in coin with the coupon below. Box 515 Super Star Information Chart Times Square P. O. New York 36, N. Y. Enclosed please find 25 cents in coin. Please rush my copy of MODERN SCREEN'S SUPER STAR INFORMATION CHART Name . . Address City.... She reached for it and took it from its shelf. She struggled for a moment with the wiring and silver foil around its neck, and finally she opened it. "My darling," she said, aloud, as she reached for a glass and poured in some of the champagne, " — it's time for a little celebration." She lifted the glass to her lips, and took a sip. She shuddered. "It's warm, much too warm," she said. "I know how you like it iced . . . but, you see, I've been so busy today, at the doctor's . . . because, you see, we're going to have a baby — Yes, yes, my darling — A baby. And it's certain. Oh yes, of course it's certain. . . ." Her hand began to tremble. She let the glass she was holding fall. It crashed to the floor, the wine splashing against her ankles. She walked back to the couch. She sat once more. She closed her eyes. "'Darling," she whispered, her voice breaking as she made her confession to the silent room, " — it's almost certain." She brought up her hand and ran it through her long blonde hair. "Only a phone call," she said. "I have only to phone the doctor, tomorrow, and he has only to say 'Yes, it's true' . . . And then everything will be all right with me again. And I'll know that my life isn't over." She fell back on the couch. "Our child," she said. "I'll have at least that ... It will grow inside me, and then it will come. It will get big. I will take such care of it, such loving care. And one day I will tell our child about its father — about how good and glorious a man he was. And when I am finished telling our child, he will smile, proudly — and he will ask me to tell him even more about you, his father. And I will. And so you will always still be with us — with me, with our child." She nodded. She brought her hand up to her stomach. "Little baby," she whispered, "I want you so much." And then, desperately, she tried to fall asleep, so that the morning would come that much more quickly. . . . Too hard from here on in It was exactly 9:00 asn. Beverly picked up the receiver and dialed the doctor's office. "Hello?" she heard the busy-sounding voice ask. "This is Miss Aadland," she said. "Beverly Aadland ... I wondered — " she started to say, nervously. "The report, yes," the doctor said. "It should be here — among my papers." She heard the rustle of the papers; the short silence that followed; then the doctor's impatient voice, calling out, "Nurse!" Another silence followed. Till, finallv, the doctor spoke up again. "Miss Aadland?" "Yes," Beverly said. "Now. the report," the doctor said, "yes. It's negative." Beverly repeated the word after him. "That's right," said the doctor. "You're not pregnant." "That can't be," Beverly said. "There must be a mistake." The doctor told her that the report was conclusive. "The nausea, the other symptoms that you told me about," he said, "are probably the result of the tension you've been undergoing these past few weeks." "But that can't be," Beverly said again, her hand clutching hard at the receiver. "There must be a mistake!" 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