Free The Complete Stories by Bernard Malamud

Gracie.
    “Maybe he thinks she’s off tonight,” Mary suggested.
    Gracie brightened. “You got somethin,” she said, “except he knew she was off Thursdays, and this is Tuesday.”
    “Yes, but maybe he forgot.”
    “Tell him outright,” said Clara, “tell him outright and see what he says.”
    “Yes, maybe I’ll do that.”
    Gracie got the bread and butter, some salad, and a fruit cup. She set the food down on his table, and he lowered his newspaper.
    “Sir,” she said.
    He looked up, almost frightened.
    “Being you’re a steady customer,” she said, “I thought you might be interested to know that Eileen, the girl who usually serves here—well, she’s—she passed away this morning in the hospital from a gallbladder operation.”
    Gracie wasn’t able to control herself. Her mouth was distorted and the tears began to roll down her cheeks. The girls knew that she had told him.
    He didn’t know what to say. He swallowed and was embarrassed, and he looked around nervously at the other tables.
    “I—I see,” he said, his voice curiously uncontrolled. “I’m sorry.” His eyes dropped to the paper. Gracie blinked the tears out of her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together. She walked quickly away.
    “The hell with him,” she said to Clara in the kitchen. “The hell with him. I only hope he croaks.”
    “He deserves it,” Clara said.
    Gracie called Rose over. She tore out his check from her order book. “Here,” she said, “serve him. I can’t stand his guts.”
    “Did you tell him?” asked Rose.
    “I told him all right, but nothing to what I’d like to tell him.”
    “They’re all alike,” said Clara.
    The word went around to the other girls, and they looked at him scornfully as they walked past his table with their loaded trays. Rose served him mechanically. She removed his fruit dish and shoved down the soup. He seemed not to notice. His eyes were on his paper.
    The girls were angry and talked about him in the kitchen.
    “You’d think he’d show a little loyalty,” said Mary.
    “Didn’t he ask more about it?”
    “No, he just said, ’I see. I’m sorry’—cold like, and he didn’t say another word.”
    “I’d like to ram this chopped steak down his throat,” Rose said vehemently.
    “Me too,” said Clara.
    They went out again, but they could not control their glances. Before long, the customers were staring in the direction of the man. From the scornful faces of the waitresses they knew that something was wrong.
    Once, he glanced up and he saw the people looking at him. His eyes fell quickly, and his hand trembled as he cut his meat. Then suddenly he wiped his lips and laid his napkin on the table. He picked up his check and took his hat and coat from the hook on the wall. His face was very white. He quickly paid his check and left.
    The girls were stunned. They stood frozen, their serving suspended. When the door closed behind him, they gathered together some soiled dishes and hurried into the kitchen.
    “Did you see that?” asked Clara. “He left right in the middle of the meal.”
    “He must’ve felt sick about Eileen,” said Mary.
    “Maybe he saw how we felt about him,” Gracie said.
    “No, I don’t think so. I think Mary’s right,” Clara said. “Some guys are like that. They don’t talk much, but inside they eat their heart out.”
    “I don’t know,” said Gracie.
    “For godsakes, girls,” called Mr. Mollendorf, “I’m running a restaurant here, not a meeting hall. Go back to your tables.”
    The group broke up. They filed out into the restaurant through the swinging doors.
    “I’m convinced,” Clara said to Gracie, “I’m convinced he really and truly loved her.”
    1943

The Literary Life of Laban Goldman
    C oming upstairs, Laban Goldman was rehearsing arguments against taking his wife to the movies so that he could attend his regular classes in night school, when he met Mrs. Campbell, his neighbor, who lived in the apartment next