Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

WHENEVER I REACHED for that laxative bottle, Betty would scream and run away. She hated the taste of the stuff and it upset her something awful ! It was just too strong! THEN I TRIED something else. But Betty raised a rumpus every time I gave her a dose. To make matters worse, the medicine didn ' t do her any good. It was just too mild! ONE DAY MY NEIGHBOR suggested Ex-Lax! I gave some to Betty and she just loved its fine allchocolate taste. Ex-Lax works so well, too... not too strong, not too mild — it's just right! Ex-Lax is effective — but effective in a gentle way! It won't upset the children; won't make them feel bad afterwards. No wonder people call it: H Naturally, like any effective medicine, Ex-Lax should be taken only as directed on the label. EXLAX 10c and 25c at all drug stores softer stronger ^A^^%M more absorbent SITROUX SIT-TRUE" I IbbU tb AT 5 & 10* DRUG & DEPT. STORES close to my ear, murmuring the things I'd half-hoped, half-dreaded to hear. "Zelda, you darling, you darling! We always have a wonderful time together, don't we? You can't keep me at arm's length any longer, honey. Zelda, my beautiful!" His arms released me, his hands cupped my face and tipped it up to his. Then my mouth met his, as if it belonged there, in the kiss I'd dreamed about. In a moment we were apart again, and he was laughing nervously, looking as if he had done something he hadn't meant to do. The blood pounding in my ears, my throat, I fled into the apartment, across the living room, into the bedroom. He loved me — Tommy loved me! And now I had to admit it, even to myself. I loved him. He'd ask me to marry him, and we'd dance and ferry-ride our way through life. We'd be happy — we'd be young! SUDDENLY I sat down, feeling as a child must feel when its balloon breaks. Because I knew it wasn't so. Marriage wasn't one long dance, one continuous ferry ride. It was companionship, and sharing troubles, and raising children, and sitting quietly side by side, not even needing to talk. And I couldn't have those with Tommy. Already I was weary of the merry-go-round I'd been riding, and I knew that Tommy was going to keep on riding until he caught the brass ring, years and years from now. I got wearily to my feet, dragged off my riding habit, began to cream my face, smoothing with an anxious finger the new little wrinkles which had lately found their way into the corners of my eyes. Not enough sleep. I was bone-weary, much as I hated to admit it, from trying to keep up with Tommy's pace-that-kills running around, as his father called it. Looking toward the door, I saw that Miggs was standing there. She must have heard what Tommy had said to me, guessed at that wild kiss, for her face was white and set, her eyes were clouded. "I've got to go out," she said briefly. "You'd better get something on. Dwight's home, and he's on his way over." I felt as if the cool rains had come after a hot, humid day as I dressed and waited for Dwight. He was so wise, so good; surely just talking to him would help me to think straighter, to sort out the jumble of emotions that was tearing me apart. Presently he came, looking as he always did — a handsome man with a knowledge of the world about him. We sat down together on the terrace. "You're getting thinner," he said, cocking an eyebrow at me. "And there are circles under your eyes. Been working too hard, or has that son of mine been leading you a merry chase?" "Both, I guess," I told him. Impulsively, I held out my hand to him. "Dwight, I've missed you. I didn't realize how much until I saw you come in, just as always. It seemed — it seemed, somehow, to send life back to normal!" He took my hand, and his eyes and his voice were suddenly different. "I've missed you, too — more than I liked to let myself think." He moved closer to me, holding my hand between both of his. "Zelda, maybe this isn't the romantic way to do this. Maybe I ought to get down on my knees. And I know I haven't the right 62 phrases for it — words are my business, but they all seem to have deserted me now. But dear, if we missed each other so, why should we go on missing each other?" For a moment I wasn't sure what he meant. It seemed incredible after our easy friendship, with never a mention of love, a hint of marriage. But it was true, and he was offering me more than he knew. He was offering me escape from the emotional tangle in which I'd involved myself. He was offering me a substitute for loving Tommy. He was offering me a way out. I didn't stop to think that it wouldn't be fair to him. I didn't stop to think that this was the coward's way, running away from a problem, hiding from it instead of facing it and fighting it out. I only knew that this was blessed, sweet relief, and I cried, "Oh, yes, Dwight — yes!" I lay quiet in his arms then, full of peace, not letting myself think of anything. I wouldn't have to face the dreadful alternative of saying no to Tommy or marrying him knowing that I was making a horrible mistake. I wouldn't have to face anything, not even the risk of another of Tommy's kisses. Dwight and I were married, very quietly, a week later, with Tommy for best man and Miggs for maid of honor. I had filled the time between with shopping, with buying the pale yellow dress I wore, the broadbrimmed green hat with its gay crown of yellow flowers, with buying a gray-and-scarlet suit for going away, a filmy white nightgown and negligee trimmed with white lace. Somehow, Tommy didn't seem as crushed as I had expected him to be. And when he kissed the bride it was a brotherly, impersonal kiss. As for Miggs, she was radiant once more as she walked out of the chapel with us, her arm tucked through Tommy's. We went to Dwight's cabin in the Catskills for our honeymoon — three peaceful, serene weeks, in which I began to recover from Tommy as one recovers from an illness. By the time we got back and moved into Dwight's house on Long Island, I felt settled and secure, as a woman must who has been married for years. The days went by so rapidly and yet so smoothly that it's hard to sort them out and remember them, one by one. Tommy was there, of course — his laboratory was in the house and he did his work there — but protected by the armor of Dwight's constant companionship, busy with the work we had started to do together, I felt the old fire dying away to embers. The weeks, the months, slid by. ONE afternoon I sat on the terrace, just basking in sheer laziness, as Tommy came up from the garden. He started to speak to me, but whatever he might have said was cut off by a hoarse cry from the direction of the long flight of steps which led down to the water. The next hours are a confused j jumble in my mind. I remember j running beside Tommy to the stairs, | seeing Dwight lying in a crumpled heap, like a bundle of old clothes ; with no man inside, at the foot of them. I remember Tommy damning the loose stones of the steps as he sprinted across the lawn to call the doctor. I remember going down the stairs somehow, kneeling beside Dwight. I remember my husband be ; RADIO MIRROR