Anna in Chains by Merrill Joan Gerber Page A

to wear her skirts short? She had always had pretty legs, why shouldn’t she? She saw in her mind the red truck, the spurting black smoke, the truckdriver throwing her a kiss.
    â€œLet’s leave,” Anna said, “This show is worthless.”
    â€œI’m more than willing,” Gert said. “For this I had to waste a taxi coupon.”
    â€œLook,” Anna said, “Donahue could have had on Ralph Nader talking about poison in hair dye. He could have had on someone from the PLO. He didn’t send me a program. He’s only in LA for a week and this is what we got.”
    â€œWe got sewage! From the sewer of the world!” Gert said. She waved her arm to dismiss the whole thing, and suddenly Donahue came bounding up the steps with his microphone quivering in front of him and grabbed Gert’s arm. He leaned right across Anna. He was so close she could see the thin white stripes on his pinstripe suit, the glare of the spotlights on his wedding ring. The hairs on his hand holding the microphone were glowing like hot electric wires.
    â€œC’mon, help me out here!” he said to Gert as he thrust the black knob toward her mouth, bending toward her as if he cared with all his heart exactly what Gert thought about every issue in life. He took her hand and pulled her gently to a standing position. “Tell us what you think.” He had a voice like a lover.
    â€œWhat I think,” Gert said, “is with all the troubles in the world, who needs to put a woman like this on national television!”
    A round of applause rose up all around them. The Mayflower Madam smiled sweetly and cast her eyes down; the applause for Gert was deafening. Donahue smiled at Gert and squeezed her hand. Anna could smell his cologne or his aftershave or something from his beautiful white hair. She was the one who had got the free tickets, and Gert was the one who had got to air her small-mindedness all over the United States of America.
    Anna raised her hand, but Donahue’s back was to her, he was rushing down the stairs—her chance was lost forever. She turned to Gert and saw how flushed her cheeks were. A smile as big as a freeway was on her face.
    â€œHe’s a real mensch ,” Gert said. “I could go for him.”
    â€œI thought he was too liberal for you.”
    â€œHe’s only that way on television. In real life he’s married to a good Catholic girl,” Gert said. “He knows what’s right. He’s a good family man. I would be happy for my daughters to marry a man like that.”
    â€œYou have no daughters,” Anna said. “You have no children, and it’s lucky for them you don’t.”
    â€œI wonder if my friends in New Jersey saw me,” Gert said as they waited at the curb for a taxi. She had insisted on staying till the very end of the show, and then rushed to join the crush of women as they filed forward to shake Donahue’s hand.
    â€œNo doubt they saw you all over the continent. Probably the President of the United States heard you, too.”
    â€œI hope so. He would agree with my opinion,” Gert said. “He and I have the same politics.”
    â€œWhat do you know about politics?” Anna said. “All you ever read is ‘Dear Abby.’ “
    â€œI know the world used to be a better place. That’s all I need to know.”
    â€œOh!” Anna said. “ Why don’t you grow up? “
    â€œYou think it’s grown up to cry for an hour in the bathroom on your wedding night?” Gert said. “Sitting on the tile in a brown silk dress and bawling your head off?”
    â€œThat’s nonsense,” Anna said. “I never cry. I didn’t cry then and I don’t cry now.”
    â€œYou were afraid to be left alone for the night with Abram.”
    â€œNot true.”
    â€œHe came to me and begged me to calm you down. He had a hotel room reserved in Atlantic City,