Rus Like Everyone Else by Bette Adriaanse Page A

look at her and shrank into his seat.
    â€œDo you know what an alliance is, Rus?”
    Rus did not know, and she guessed that because she answered for him.
    â€œAn alliance is a cooperation of two different parties. Together they are stronger and have more of a chance to survive. But both parties have to stay in the alliance and honor the agreement. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
    Rus wasn’t really sure what she was talking about, but he nodded because she looked so serious.
    â€œBut the alliance only works if both parties stay in it,” she said. “They can’t just form an alliance with someone else, leaving the other party with all the new furniture.”
    Wanda was squeezing the steering wheel with white knuckles. They were silent for a while. Cars were racing past them at the traffic light. Then Wanda blew out a lot of air and looked at Rus. “We will work on your papers at my house,” she said, “and you will provide me with the information to put together your résumé.”
    MRS. BLUE AND THE SECRETARY

    â€œIf you smile, it will turn into a good memory,” the secretary said. “Memories are just pictures of yourself in your mind.” That was what her mother always said at least.
    Mrs. Blue did not respond. She was lying on the couch with her face toward the ceiling. She had dislocated her hip when she fell onto the pink chesterfield that was standing on the forklift truck at the studios. The secretary had seen her trying to get into the elevator with her new wheelchair, and she insisted on helping her into the house and getting blankets for the couch. Now the secretary was sitting at the foot end of the couch. She had made tea but Mrs. Blue didn’t want any. She didn’t want anything, aside from the remote control now and then, to see if her show had come back yet.
    â€œSo it was a very good TV show?” the secretary asked eventually.
    Mrs. Blue opened her eyes.
    â€œWhen you start telling a story, the people in this story and the world they live in are created,” she said. “It is like God: someone made him up and now he’s there, in our minds and in heaven. They have an obligation to Grace and to the others to end the story properly.”
    â€œAnd they lived happily ever after,” the secretary said.
    â€œYes,” Mrs. Blue said, “for instance. Although I personally don’t like the ever after. I myself prefer ‘they closed the curtains, put on their pajamas, and went to bed.’”
    â€œYes,” the secretary said. “They were in love and happy, closed the curtains, and went to bed.” She thought about the lawyer and the bald spot on top of his head.
    She looked sideways at Mrs. Blue, who had pulled the blankets over her head.
    â€œGlenn sent you a nice card,” the secretary said. “He was sorry he could not make it for your birthday.”
    Mrs. Blue remained silent.
    â€œHe is very busy,” the secretary tried. “Perhaps you could visit him. Do you have any plans for vacation?”
    Mrs. Blue sighed. She pulled the blankets farther up.
    The secretary took a sip of her tea. There was a radio still onsomewhere, it seemed. She swallowed the tea and got up from the couch. “I’ll check on you later this week.”
    The secretary carried the teacups back to the kitchen and walked to the door.
    â€œWashing machines,” Mrs. Blue said suddenly.
    The secretary stopped in the doorway.
    â€œWhen we invented the washing machine,” she continued, as if she had personally been involved with the invention of the washing machine, “we thought, This is going to save time. People will have extra free time to do things now.” She slowly sat up on the couch and took the remote to switch on the television. There were people on rows of chairs. She switched it off again.
    â€œBut everyone is busy,” she said.
    â€œI’m not busy,” the