Radio Mirror: The Magazine of Radio Romances (Jan-June 1943)

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Jasperson, Dept.LI.Beverly Hills, Calif. photo nine ANY PHOTO OR PICTURE of Sweetheart, Relative or Friend reproduced per ma ^ _^_ nently in this beau mjZ \ , tiful onyx like ring; •JW ■ featuring the New *r , Magnified Setting! Will last a lifetime! Inde | I structible* Waterproof! Enclose strip of paper _M,. for ring size. Pay postman plus a few cents„ postage. If you send cash we pay postage, (.tipeniypainieu Canadians: Send Money Order! (Photos Returned) Zoc exiraj Photo Movette Ring Co., Dept. C-29, 519 Main St. .Cincinnati, O. Vair! Don't be embarrassed by slren^T,^ a "™ Let J""! GRflY Hfl,R ANALYSIS' 76 I said, "So the war has given you a job, hasn't it?" He grinned blithely. "Yep, I'm a defense worker now, and if all they say about defense workers' pay is true we'll really start making money." Money. It seemed to me that I had heard too much about money since Gene and I were married. We had never had much, Mother and Father and I, but we'd never worried much about it, or envied people who had more. But money had run like a dingy, coarse thread through the fabric of my life with Gene from the very first. He wasn't stingy. On the contrary, he was extravagant, to an extent that shocked me. He insisted on having the Gorman house redecorated from top to bottom. It was true that it was rather shabby and gloomy, but I could have brightened it up with new drapes and rugs and a little paint. Instead, it got new wall-paper and hardwood floors in every room, a sunporch on the side, a shiny modern sink and a huge electric refrigerator in the kitchen. And a royal-blue two-door sedan took the place of Gene's old runabout in the shed in back. T^HE place looked lovely when it was -* done. But I would have been happier if we had been paying rent for it to Tim. As I'd expected, Tim had written from camp to say he wouldn't take money from his brother. More and more, in those months, I learned what it meant to have my eyes opened to Gene's character. I had wondered if the time would ever come when I would see clearly through all of his pretenses. Well, it had come, and I was sick at heart with the glimpses it brought me of his shabby little soul. Oh, I tried to blind myself again, and sometimes I succeeded. When everything was going as he wished it, Gene could be a gay lover, a perfect companion for hours of pleasure. But love was not enough, and pleasure was not enough. I hungered for something more, something that Gene would never give me — because, perhaps, he could not. Once I had wished for a child. Now I was glad when the months passed and I did not again become pregnant. Tim had been transferred to a training camp in the West, but early in the fall of 1941 he had a short leave and came home. This time he didn't walk in unannounced, so I had an opportunity to clean his old room, dust his books and high-school athletic trophies, and have it all ready for him when he arrived. Soldiers were no novelty in our town any longer, but still I was proud and thrilled all over again to see Tim in his uniform — embellished now, it was, with the three stripes of a sergeant. Gene laughed at the stripes, and called Tim a "brass-hat," and Tim took the kidding good-naturedly. But somehow, I didn't think it was so funny. It wasn't very pleasant, anyhow, to watch Gene and Tim together. On Tim's first leave, when we were still at the service station, Gene had deferred to his older brother, but now he was surer of himself, and it seemed to me he managed to be rather patronizing. He was affectionate enough, but it was an affection tinged with contempt. Obviously, Gene appeared to be hinting in his manner, Tim hadn't been quite bright to be taken in by all this talk of war. He was wasting his time wearing a uniform and drawing a sergeant's pay when all the while — as Gene's own job proved! — it was possible to take real advantage of the silly war hysteria. I thought that Tim's affection for Gene blinded him to all this, but I was wrong — as I seemed to be wrong about so many things where Tim was concerned! One afternoon, before Gene was home from the plant, Tim and I were talking about the war, and he startled me by remarking: "Gene thinks I'm a dope, but that's because he's so sure nobody'd ever have the nerve to attack this country. I hope he's right, but I'd hate to bet on it." His matter-of-factness carried more conviction than the most dramatic prophecy, and I shivered as I answered: "You really think we'll be in the war, don't you, Tim?" XX E looked at me over the pipe he *•-*■ was puffing so contentedly. "Yes," he said, "I think so." It was a warm autumn day, and we were sitting on the front porch. As if to give ironic punctuation to his simple words, an airplane roared overhead. Tim's gray eyes looked calmly out past the wisteria vine to the treeshaded street. Just so, I thought, would he look into the face of battle — bravely, with his head up, ready to do the job that had to be done. The sunlight glinted on the fine golden hair sprinkled over the backs of his strong hands — and suddenly I knew that I wanted terribly to lay my cheek against those hands, to feel their skin with mine. It came as simply and clearly as that — the knowledge that I loved Gene's brother. He brought me back to reality. "I'm glad of one thing," he said. "When it comes, you and Gene will be all set. They probably wouldn't take married men doing Gene's kind of work." TUNE IN THE BLUE NETWORK Every day — Monday through Friday. 3:15 to 3:45 P.M. EWT LISTEN TO— MY TRUE STORY— a new and different story every day. Stories about the lives of real people; their problems, their loves, their adventures — presented in cooperation with the editors of TRUE STORY magazine. Check your local newspaper for local time of this — BLUE NETWORK PRESENTATION