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Show City Motel 114 Mrs. Jackson f i n a l l y couldn't keep to herself. "What is that sound, Harold?" Mr. Jackson jerked up to a s i t t i n g position and listened, his hands splayed wide, his ears attentive, his eyes troubled. Eva d i d n ' t move a muscle as she waited for his verdict. " I 'm not sure," he said. "It sounds l i k e ordinary breathing to me. I t ' s probably someone in the next room." "But i t ' s too loud," said Mrs. Jackson as she searched the pictures on the wall for spy holes behind the eyes of the prints. But there were no eyes, only leafy scenes of spring. Mr. Jackson got up and checked the kitchen stove in the alcove. E l e c t r i c , not gas. "What could i t be?" she asked. " I ' l l be damned i f I know." He pulled off his undershirt and tossed i t to the f l o o r . He swung his legs back onto the bed, turned out the lamp on his side, and pulled the sheet up over his head. "Should we c a l l the manager?" she asked. "Go to sleep." "Maybe i t ' s nothing," she said to herself as she t r i e d to puff up her p i l l o w , but because i t was foam rubber i t didn't change shape. The couple in the next room, number 1, would have heard the breathing also i f they hadn't been so absorbed with each other. Larry didn't even realize that his hand slowed to the rhythm of the breath from the walls and that his fingers caressed Alice's navel in tempo. Nor did Alice realize |
