Read The Good Wife for Free Online Page A

this?”
    “Okay. Tired. I’m still trying to find a lawyer.”
    “What have you found out?”
    “They’re expensive.”
    “That goes without saying.”
    She mentions the five-thousand-dollar retainer.
    “That’s highway robbery,” her mother comments. “How many of them have you talked to?”
    “He’s the one everyone recommends.”
    Patty registers her silence.
    “The police have the truck. I figure if we sell it—”
    “I know what you’re asking. Do you honestly think I have five thousand dollars just lying around? I wish I did. I’d give it to you in a heartbeat, Patty, I would.”
    “I wasn’t asking. I just wanted to let you know what we’re doing.”
    “Then I apologize. It sounded like you were building up to something. I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”
    “Don’t worry,” Patty says, “I’m not.”
    She barely listens after this, drawing a fat black X through the numbers in front of her. Her mother won’t let her go, offering to come over. She saw a show about burglars taking advantage of women in her situation; the way she says it, it’s like Patty has a terminal disease.
    “Eileen’s here,” Patty says.
    “Eventually she’s going to have to go back to work. You really shouldn’t be there by yourself.
    “Let me know if you need help,” her mother says as they say goodbye.
    “Thanks, Mom,” Patty says. “I will.”

EASY
    SHE TALKS WITH THE PUBLIC DEFENDER’S OFFICE, THEN MAKES A second trip to the jail. He takes it better than she expected, and she understands that she’s let him down. The sun is setting over the hills as Eileen drives her home. Patty’s glad to see it go, and at the same time worries about him spending the night there by himself. The day is finally over, but the feeling that she’s forgotten something nags at her.
    Eileen makes dinner, their mother’s chicken casserole with the swiss cheese and boxed stuffing mix. It smells good, but they’ve both been awake too long, they’re shaky from running on raw nerves, and neither of them feels like eating. Patty rakes hers over her plate, wondering what Tommy’s having. She’s supposed to drink milk for the baby, and gags a glass down, tipping her chin up to help her swallow. What she could really use is a double shot of Jack to punch her into a different frame of mind, but that’s at least three months away. She takes her vitamin at the sink and starts to do the dishes.
    “I’ll get those,” Eileen says.
    “I’ve got to do something, otherwise I’ll go nuts.”
    So Eileen dries, squatting and craning to fit the pots and plates into the cupboards.
    They don’t dare watch TV, and the stereo’s a trap, all the songs that belong to him. Eileen votes for gin, and Patty gives in to her. They sit tailorseat on the couch, facing each other, wrapped in sleeping bags, a supply of soft dutch chocolate cookies within reach.
    “This is like a slumber party,” Patty says.
    “Except there’s not popcorn all over the floor.”
    “And Mom’s not screaming at us.”
    They pick up and discard from a pillow set between them.
    “That was stupid,” Eileen tells herself when Patty nabs the queen she just dumped.
    They don’t keep score, but it seems to Patty that Eileen wins almost every hand. She wonders if it’s too early to go to bed.
    Eileen wins again.
    “It’s just not my day,” Patty says, and they quit. She finds the jokers and folds the flaps closed. “Are you going to be okay out here? You can watch TV if you want, it won’t bother me.”
    Eileen’s fine.
    “Thank you,” Patty says, and leans down to kiss her forehead the way she did when she used to babysit her. Now Eileen’s taking care of her; it’s like they’ve changed places. Like always, their mother and Shannon are nowhere.
    She brushes her teeth and pees, the bathroom all hers, unnatural. Dropping her clothes in the hamper, she sees one of his tube socks under yesterday’s jeans, the butterscotch dye of his workboots worn