Read Cold Shoulder for Free Online Page A

the bright sunshine, Rosie had severe doubts about taking her in. She wished she had not been so friendly.
    Lorraine was silent on the long journey, as they changed buses four times. She didn’t like going back to her home territory, Pasadena, but then she didn’t really know any place any more. She was glad to have Rosie — even felt a strange desire to hold her hand, afraid she would lose sight of her.
    Eventually they were walking along a wide road with small dilapidated bungalows, past a four-storey apartment block. Rosie pointed to a grocery store. ‘I shop there and live above that garage just a few yards along. It’s very convenient.’
    Lorraine nodded. Even from this distance she had seen the liquor section in the store. Her body broke out in a sweat, her mouth felt rancid, and she licked her lips. As she stood at the counter next to Rosie, who was buying bread and salads and coffee, she felt like screaming. Her eyes constantly strayed to the bottles: she wanted a drink so badly she felt faint.
    ‘Here we are, now, you go up ahead. It’s so narrow, this staircase, I’m always tripping down… watch how you go, the fifth step is loose…’
    They climbed up the wooden stairway and Rosie unlocked the screen door, then her front door. As she pushed it open a cat screeched and dived out between Lorraine’s legs.
    ‘That’s Walter. Go in, you first.’
    Rosie’s tiny apartment was stiflingly hot, even with the blinds down. She turned on the air conditioning, which whirred noisily. There was a living room and one cramped bedroom with a tiny shower room attached. The kitchen was a messy corner of the living room. Rosie busied herself unloading the groceries, pointing out the couch for Lorraine to sleep on, bringing sheets and pillows.
    ‘Now, do you want some tea, or coffee, or something cold? I think I’ve got chilled Coke — or lemonade?’
    Lorraine rested back on the sofa, rolling an ice-cold Coke can across her forehead. She was still desperate for a real drink. She gulped at the Coke, draining the can quickly.
    Rosie held up a packet of cigarettes. ‘I thought you’d be needing one, so here.’ She tossed it over. ‘Now you clean up and run a comb through your hair, and then we should go, the meeting’s due to start in about an hour.’
    Lorraine closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Maybe I’m a bit too tired today.’
    Rosie loomed over her. ‘Today is when you really need to go, and I can arrange that you go every day for the first few weeks.’ Lorraine managed a weak smile and hauled herself to her feet, crossing through Rosie’s dusty bedroom into the small bathroom, which was crammed with jars of creams, tubes, and a vast array of worn toothbrushes and half-squeezed toothpaste tubes. Old tights were hung up to dry, large faded panties and a greyish bra pinned on a piece of string, so large Lorraine stared in disbelief.
    She ran the water and bent down to drink it, gulping it down, then she splashed her face and reached for a threadbare towel. She looked at herself then, really studied herself, no drugs and stone-cold sober for the first time in years. The image that stared back was of a stranger. Her eyes were puffy, washed-out, red-rimmed, and her nose had small, white-headed spots at each side. She caught sight of her yellowish, stained teeth, the gap in the front. The scar stretched her cheek slightly, an ugly reminder of a past she wanted to obliterate. She traced the outline of her cracked, swollen lips and then ran her hand through her thin hair, strands of it coming away. It looked as if someone had hacked it haphazardly, any way but straight. Maybe she’d even done it herself, she couldn’t remember. There were not just days or weeks or months she couldn’t remember but whole years.
    Rosie rapped on the door. ‘What are you doing in there?’
    Lorraine took a deep breath. ‘Just washing. Won’t be long , . .’ As she dried her hands she gazed at the stains along her fingers, the