Nicolbee's Nightmare

Nicolbee had nightmares; but his life was a nightmare too, and sometimes he couldn't tell them apart, or which was most real …


excerpt

“Look," said Joe Nicolbee, pointing his finger at his wife that 'Friday night after they had finished a mediocre meal, "why don't you go to the show alone?"


Agnes Nicolbee hesitated only an instant. She looked at the litter of dirty dishes lying about the kitchen table.


"What about these dinner dishes?" she asked.


"You go to the show," Joe Nicolbee repeated. "I'll do 'em."


Agnes smiled happily. This was just what she wanted.


"I'll call the girls," she said rising, "and see if they'll go with me."


She paused to pat Joe Nicolbee's head fondly before leaving him there in the kitchen. She still thought this gesture pleased him. "You don't mind staying home alone, honey?" she asked.


Joe Nicolbee sighed.


"No," he said. "I don't mind. You'd better hurry." And with faintly cynical amusement he watched his wife hurry out of the kitchen. He could hear her dialing a telephone rapidly in the hall off the living room.


A few seconds later her voice floated faintly to him, carefully muffled so that he couldn't make out any of the conversation. But Joe Nicolbee didn't care to hear the conversation. He knew Agnes wasn't calling any of the "girls". He'd known it for over three years now. It didn't bother Joe Nicolbee because it had been longer than three years since he'd been silly enough to give a damn about Agnes.