The Newspaper Seller

THE NEWSPAPER SELLER

What am I doing here? What have I done to deserve this? I'm standing on
a corner at the railway station selling newspapers. That's what I'm
doing.
It's a lovely afternoon; the sun is shining, and gleaming on the clocks
that let people know what times the trains go. I can feel the warmth of
the sun sinking into my poor old bones. There's not so many people
around yet, so I'll just sit down for a while and enjoy it. I don't get
too much enjoyment now that I'm old. Good Lord, what am I, fifty-five
or fifty-six? I don't know, I can't remember. It doesn't matter anyhow,
because I look like an old hag.

I wouldn't be here if that wee baby had lived: he would have looked
after his old mum. Oh yes, he would. We both wanted a baby so bad. My
husband, God rest his soul, wanted it more than me, I reckon, the way
he turned out.
He was a good man, when I married him. We had such plans. What we
weren't going to do, isn't worth saying. Build a house big enough for
six kids, he was a good carpenter and we were going to get our own
building company, and set the world on fire, that's what. We were so
happy when I got pregnant. We made plans for our boy. It was going to
be a boy, a mother can tell those things. He was going to go to private
school to have the education that we never had.
I was milking a cow one morning and before I could tether her she
knocked me over and trampled me. I knew something was wrong when the
bad pain started. They took me to hospital where I miscarried, and my
husband, he just crumpled up. He couldn't handle it. I thought it would
be all right when I got to go home. It wasn't. He started to get mean,
and drink and beat me.

"Paper, sir? Thank you, nice day? Yes, isn't it?

It got to be that he was always drunk, that man of mine. He didn't mean
to hurt me. It was the drink. He hurt so much inside himself; he took
it out on me.
What's that song? That says it's always the one you love you hurt the
most. How does it go? "You always hurt the one you love." Yes, that's
it. You always hurt the one you love. Ah, well, I guess it must be
true.
I was a real looker when I was young, even if I do say so myself. We
married when I was sixteen and he was about twenty-seven or eight. I
forget exactly. Anyhow, after a few years of his drinking and taking it
out on me, I thought to myself, hell, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
And that's just what I did. I went with him on his pub-crawls, and
learned to match him drink for drink. Well! Was he proud of me for
that! He used to skite to his mates how I could almost out-drink him.
Almost, but not quite!

I didn't have a life of my own; I lost the few friends I had. Asking
anyone over to our rented government house for a visit was out of the
question because we never had enough food. All the money went on booze.
I didn't go out by myself, in case I met someone I knew, and the Good
Lord only would know what they'd think.

"Twenty five cents, thank you, sir."

He got sick. They said he had something wrong with his liver, cirrhosis
is what it was and he had malnu, malnu, malnutrition. That's it,
malnutrition! I didn't know what that was but they said he didn't eat
right and he drank too much booze. Well! I could have told them
that!
He was such a baby. He would cry and tell me how sorry he was and all
that stuff. They took him away because he tried to jump out a window -
three stories up mind you. They said it was because he couldn't have
any more booze, and that does something to the body. I know what they
said. He's withdrawing from the booze. He was crazy if you ask me! He
didn't last long after that and they wouldn't let me see him too much.
I don't know why. He was just crazy, is what I say.

Now I'm by myself. I'm fat, ugly and have nobody to talk too.
All-in-all, I miss that son of a bitch. I haven't got money, except for
the pension and Lord knows that doesn't go far.

"Paper? Yes sir."

Selling these papers gets me by. Of course, if I was a few years
younger, I could go out on the game. Ha! Ha! I probably wouldn't know
what to do. I only ever had one man in my life. God rest his soul.
Anyway the bit extra I get is enough to get me my little nip of
"medicinal brandy".

"Paper, paper, get your paper here, thank you, twenty five cents, thank
you, get your evening paper here, thank you, thank you, get you paper
here".

THE END