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https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/001/163/803/00e.jpg

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1. Workbook page 53 #2 ONLY.

2. Workbook page 54 and 55.

3. Vocabulary bank page 161 (media).

4. Prepare for the debate. Page 81 statements.

A= For

B = Against

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I'm Thushari . I'm from Gelioya .I'm a nature lover and I have a nice dog named Rocky.

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1. Court vocabulary

2. Grammar - passive voice

3. Mini grammar - passive voice

4. Guardian reading

5. Workbook pages 50-52

6. Student book Grammar bank page 146

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I’m Hashini Chandrapala. I’m 20 years old. I’m from Kurunegala. I love traveling. And also I’m a dog lover.😁😁

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Something written by a master short story writer that you all might find interesting.

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I’m Thavishi Herath from Kurunegala. I’m 21 years old. I love listening to songs. Enrique is one of my favourite singers. I love to spend the rainy days with a hot tea and a horror movie 🤓🤪

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1. Course book reading on page 59

2. Grammar bank on page 143  (used to, be used to, get used to)

3. Workbook pages 40-42

4. Guardian reading about social media

5. Used to, be used to, get used to worksheet

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I'm sasmitha from balagolla. I'm 20 years old. I'm also a k-drama & k-pop fan. I missed the first class so, looking forward to meet you all. 🤗

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Dear all, I'd like each of you to try to bring a newspaper article to class related to technology / technologies effects on society.
We will discuss the articles you bring to class.

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Hi My name is Rizman. I'm 19 years
old. I'm from Akurana.

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1. 6 A Grammar bank Page 142

2. Workbook pages 37 to 39

3. Guardian reading about reggae music

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It's me Shanika.😎 from Matale.
I'm an undergraduate of wayamba University and also a Maths tutor for UK students.
Always I like to smile😂.and keep annoying others.

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The neigbours

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1. 1B Grammar Bank

2. Compound adjectives worksheet

3. Workbook pages7, 8 & 9

Optional Homework: Write your own ghost story

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Things that I’m interested in the most:
Chess | Music | Physics
Let’s talk. Let me have the honor of taking you all to the holy grail of the internet!

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Well done Udara - check my comments in detail. There is some additional suggested study to complete. 

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Well done Udara - check my comments in detail. There is some additional suggested study to complete. 

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Also, next time attempt to stick to a 40 minute time limit and see what you can accomplish inside that time

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I won't be able to come on the last day (3rd march). Is there any way for me to get my certificate?

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New Upper-intermediate | English File Student's Site | Oxford University Press

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Students >English File Student's Site >New Upper-intermediate

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1. Indirect questions worksheet.

2. 1A Grammar bank A & B.
3. Log into Padlet and introduce yourself if you haven't already.
4. Workbook 1A Asking questions.

5. Page 7 workbook.

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Hi, I'm Kavindee and I'm a student at achievers business school. I'm from Aniwatte. I have two pet dogs named Lucifer and Shelby. When I'm not studying I like to read.

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Made some changes

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Hey Ben,

Patrick slowly reached for the door that he never opened, hopeless.
Patrick slowly reached for the door that he never opened, hopelessly.

Could you explain which is the correct one?

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Improve your English writing online

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Practise your English writing skills for free with Write & Improve. Get feedback on your writing in seconds and learn how you can improve.

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How to write a Discursive Essay - a free guide from Essay.uk.com

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Discursive essays discuss the issue in hand. They present an argument in a more balanced way than argumentative and persuasive writing.

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Hi my name is Anjalee.I'm 21 years old.I'm from kandy .I'm a korean drama lover.I'm a dreamer too.I want to achieve the best and live happily .💪😊

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The hair

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full call if you need me by raymond carver online

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read call if you need me by raymond carver online

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Read Call If You Need Me by Raymond Carver online free full book. PDF Page 20 | No download

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FULL PDF BOOK:Call If You Need Me by Raymond Carver. Somehow I also managed to write three books of poems, a book of stories, and a collection of essays.Early in 1998, as the tenth anniversary of Ray's

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Hi All,we are planning to create a whatsapp group.if u can plz comment ur phone numbers.Then we can create it.

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Games

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Dictionary.com | Meanings & Definitions of English Words

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The world's leading online dictionary: English definitions, synonyms, word origins, example sentences, word games, and more. A trusted authority for 25+ years!

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For all you IELTS takers, here's a question to start with.

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Hi i’m hasuru. I’m 21 years old. I am from kurunegala. Cricket is my life. I am a free thinker with a open mind.

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Viewfinder

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So Much Water So Close To Home

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So Much WaterSo Close To Home

By Raymond Carver

M Y husband eats with a good appetite. But I don't think he's really hungry. He chews, arms on the table, and stares at something across the room. He looks at me and looks away. He wipes his mouth on the napkin. He shrugs, and goes on eating.

"What are you staring at me for?" he says. "What is it?" he says and lays down his fork.

"Was I staring?" I say, and shake my head. The telephone rings.

"Don't answer it," he says.

"It might be your mother," I say.

"Watch and see," he says.

I pick up the receiver and listen. My husband stops eating.

"What did I tell you?" he says when I hang up. He starts to eat again. Then throws his napkin on his plate. He says, "Goddamn it, why can't people mind their own business? Tell me what I did wrong and I'll listen! I wasn't the only man there. We talked it over and we all decided. We couldn't just turn around. We were five miles from the car. I won't have you passing judgment. Do you hear?"

"You know," I say.

He says, "What do I know, Claire? Tell me what I'm supposed to know. I don't know anything except one thing?' He gives me what he thinks is a meaningful look. "She was dead," he says. "And I'm as sorry as anyone else. But she was dead."

"That's the point," I say.

He raises his hands. He pushes his chair away from the table. He takes out his cigarettes and goes out to the back with a can of beer. ~ see him sit in the lawn chair and pick up the newspaper again.

His name is in there on the first page. Along with the names of his friends.

I close my eyes and hold on to the sink. Then I rake my arm across the drainboard and send the dishes to the floor.

He doesn't move. I know he's heard. He lifts his head as if still listening. But he doesn't move otherwise. He doesn't turn around.

H E and Gordon Johnson and Mel Dorn and Vern Williams, they play poker and bowl and fish. They fish every spring and early summer before visiting relatives can get in the way. They are decent men, family men, men who take care of their jobs. They have sons and daughters who go to school with our son, Dean.

Last Friday these family men left for the Naches River. They parked the car in the mountains and hiked to where they wanted to fish. They carried their bedrolls, their food, their playing cards, their whiskey.

They saw the girl before they set up camp. Mel Dorn found her. No clothes on her at all. She was wedged into some branches that stuck out over the water.

He called the others and they came to look. They talked about what to do. One of the men-my Stuart didn't say which-said they should start back at once. The others stirred the sand with their shoes, said they didn't feel inclined that way. They pleaded fatigue, the late hour, the fact that the girl wasn't going anywhere.

In the end they went ahead and set up the camp. They built a fire and drank their whiskey. When the moon came up, they talked about the girl. Someone said they should -keep the body from drifting away. They took their flashlights and went back to the river. One of the men-it might have been Stuart-waded in and got her. He took her by the fingers and pulled her into shore. He got some nylon cord and tied it to her wrist and then looped the rest around a tree.

The next morning they cooked breakfast, drank coffee, and drank whiskey, and then split up to fish. That night they cooked fish, cooked potatoes, drank coffee, drank whiskey, then took their cooking things and eating things back down to the river and washed them where the girl was.

They played some cards later on. Maybe they played until they couldn't see them anymore. Vern Williams went to sleep. But the others told stories. Gordon Johnson said the trout they'd caught were hard because of the terrible coldness of the water.

The next morning they got up late, drank whiskey, fished a little, took down their tents, rolled their sleeping bags, gathered their stuff, and hiked out. They drove until they got to a telephone. It was Stuart who made the call while the others stood around in the sun and listened. He gave the sheriff their names. They had nothing to hide. They weren't ashamed. They said they'd wait until someone could come for better directions and take down their statements.

I W A S asleep when he got home. But I woke up when I heard him in the kitchen. I found him leaning against the refrigerator with a can of beer. He put his heavy arms around me and rubbed his big hands on my back. In bed he put his hands on me again and then waited as if thinking of something else. I turned and opened my legs. Afterwards, I think he stayed awake.

He was up that morning before I could get out of bed. To see if there was something in the paper, I suppose.

The telephone began ringing right after eight.

"Go to hell!" I heard him shout.

The telephone rang right again.

"I have nothing to add to what sherirn"

He slammed the receiver down.

"What is going on?" I said.

It was then that he told me what I just told you.

I S W E E P up the broken dishes and go outside. He is lying on his back on the grass now, the newspaper and can of beer within reach.

"Stuart, could we go for a drive?" I say.

He rolls over and looks at me. "We'll pick up some beer," he says.. He gets to his feet and touches me on the hip as he goes past. "Give me a minute," he says.

We drive through town without speaking. He stops at a roadside market for beer. I notice a great stack ofpapersjust inside the door. On the top step a fat woman in a print dress holds out a licorice stick to a little girl. Later on, we cross Everson Creek and turn into the picnic grounds. The creek runs under the bridge and into a large pond a few hundred yards away. I can see the men out there. I can see them out there fishing.

So much water so close to home.

1 say, "Why did you have to go miles away?"

"Don't rile me," he says.

We sit on a bench in the sun. He opens us cans of beer. He says, "Relax, Claire."

"They said they were innocent. They said they were crazy."

He says, "Who?" He says, "What are you talking about?"

"The Maddox brothers. They killed a girl named Arlene Hubly where I grew up. They cut off her head and threw her into the Cle Elum River. It happened when I was a girl."

"You're going to get me riled," he says.

I look at the creek. I'm right in it, eyes open, face down, staring at the moss on the bottom, dead.

"I don't know what's wrong with you," he says on the way home. "You're getting me more riled by the minute."

There is nothing I can say to him.

He tries to concentrate on the road. But he keeps looking into the rear-view mirror.

He knows.

S T U A R T believes he is letting me sleep this morning. But I was awake long before the alarm went off. I was thinking, lying on the far side of the bed away from his hairy legs.

He gets Dean off for school, and then he shaves, dresses, and leaves for work. Twice he looks in and clears his throat. But I keep my eyes closed.

In the kitchen I find a note from him. It's signed "Love." I sit in the breakfast nook and drink coffee and leave a ring on the note. I look at the newspaper and turn it this way and that on the table. Then I skid it close and read what it says. The body has been identified, claimed. But it took some examining it, some putting things into it, some cutting, some weighing, some measuring, some putting things back again and sewing them in.

I sit for a long time holding the newspaper and thinking. Then I call up to get a chair at the hairdresser's.

I S I T under the dryer with a magazine on my lap and let Marnie do my nails.

"I am going to a funeral tomorrow," I say. "I'm sorry to hear that," Marnie says. "It was a murder," I say.

"That's the worst kind," Marnie says.

"We weren't all that close," I say. "But you know?'

"We'll get you fixed up for it," Marnie says.

That night I make my bed on the sofa, and in the morning I get up first. I put on coffee and fix breakfast while he shaves.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, towel over his bare shoulder, appraising.

"Here's coffee," I say. "Eggs'll be ready in a minute?'

I wake Dean, and the three of us eat. Whenever Stuart looks at me, I ask Dean if he wants more milk, more toast, etc.

"I'll call you today," Stuart says as he opens the door.

I say, "I don't think I'll be home today."

"All right," he says. "Sure."

I dress carefully. I try on a hat and look at myself in the mirror. I write out a note for Dean.

Honey, Mommy has things to do this afternoon, but will be back later. You stay in or be in the backyard until one of us comes home.

Love, Mommy

I look at the word Love and then I underline it. Then I see the word backyard. Is it one word or two?

I D R I V E through farm country, through fields of oats and sugar beets and past apple orchards, cattle grazing in pastures. Then everything changes, more like shacks than farmhouses and stands of timber instead of orchards. Then mountains, and on the right, far below, I sometimes see the Naches River.

A green pickup comes up behind me and stays behind me for miles. I keep slowing at the wrong times, hoping he will pass. Then I speed up. But this is at the wrong times, too. I grip the wheel until my fingers hurt.

On a long clear stretch he goes past. But he drives along beside for a bit, a crewcut man in a blue workshirt. We look each other over. Then he waves, toots his horn, and pulls on up ahead.

I slow down and find a place. I pull over and shut offthe motor. I can hear the river down below the trees. Then I hear the pickup coming back.

I lock the doors and roll up the windows.

"You all right?" the man says. He raps on the glass. "You okay?" He leans his arms on the door and brings his face to the window.

I stare at him. I can't think what else to do.

"Is everything all right in there? How come you're all locked up?"

I shake my head.

"Roll down your window?' He shakes his head and looks at the highway and then back at me. "Roll it down now."

"Please," I say, "I have to go."

"Open the door," he says as if he isn't listening. "You're going to choke in there."

He looks at my breasts, my legs. I can tell that's what he's doing.

"Hey, sugar," he says. "I'm just here to help is all."

T H E casket is closed and covered with floral sprays. The organ starts up the minute I take a seat. People are coming inand finding chairs. There's a boy in flared pants and a yellow short-sleeved shirt. A door opens and the family comes in in a group and moves over to a curtained place off to one side. Chairs creak as everybody gets settled. Directly, a nice blond man in a nice dark suit stands and asks us to bow our heads. He says a prayer for us, the living, and when he finishes, he says a prayer for the soul of the departed.

Along with the others I go past the casket. Then I move out onto the front steps and into the afternoon light. There's a woman who limps as she goes down the stairs ahead of me. On the sidewalk she looks around. "Well, they got him," she says. "If that's any consolation. They arrested him this morning. I heard it on the radio before I come. A boy right here in town."

We move a few steps down the hot sidewalk. People are starting cars. I put out my hand and hold on to a parking meter. Polished hoods and polished fenders. My head swims.

I say, "They have friends, these killers. You can't tell."

"I have known that child since she was a little girl," the woman says. "She used to come over and I'd bake cookies for her and let her eat them in front of the TV."

B A C K home, Stuart sits at the table with a drink of whiskey in front of him. For a crazy instant I think something's happened to Dean.

"Where is he?" I say. "Where is Dean?"

"Outside," my husband says.

He drains his glass and stands up. He says, "I think I know what you need."

He reaches an arm around my waist and with his other hand he begins to unbutton my jacket and then he goes on to the buttons of my blouse.

"First things first," he says.

He says something else. But I don't need to listen. I can't hear a thing with so much water going.

"That's right," I say, finishing the buttons myself, "Before Dean comes. Hurry?"

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So Much WaterSo Close To Home By Raymond Carver M Y husband eats with a good appetite. But I don't think he's really hungry. He chews, arms on the table, and stares at something across the room. He looks at me and looks away. He wipes his mouth on the napkin.

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Cathedral

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A Small, Good Thing

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£>u rmummgI Cfln/er Ktftol by Rflynwd Soulardjr. § Kdssawlrti Soulflrrt Thank you for downloading this Scriptor Press tide! Please visit Scriptor Press online for more great literary titles and other media. Portland, O r e g o k Scriptor Press A Small, Good Thing by Raymond Carver edited by Raymond Soulard, Jr.

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Please download the article and check the comments on the side of the document. Well done

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Popular mechanics

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1. Complete the Needs Analysis Questions.
2. Log into Padlet and introduce yourself.
3. Workbook Page 5 #2 Reading and Vocabulary: Common Interview Mistakes.

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Hi My name's Ben. I really like playing the guitar and bullying my wife! :) 

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Hi My name's Ben. I really like playing the guitar and bullying my wife! :) 

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Where I'm calling from

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Skip's ESL BITS - ESL English Listening Advanced - ESL English Listening Intermediate - ESL English Listening Songs - ESL Listening Audiobooks

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The father

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With this, his first collection of stories, Raymond Carver breathed new life into the American short story. Carver shows us the humor and tragedy that dwell in the hearts of ordinary people; his stories are the classics of our time."[Carver's stories] can ... be counted among the masterpieces of American Literature."

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What we talk about when we talk about love

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Why don't you dance

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Hi Ben, Good morning, I will not be able to attend the class this Sunday due to personal reason. Thank you. Hasitha

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This based on a true story that i heard from my friends. I believe it as a urban myth😉. Shehan who was a boy lived in negambo had face this incident several years ago. His house situated near a grave yard.

Once he was on his way to home, a blowing sound makes him scared and a gloom of light on a tombstone at the graveyard makes him curious. So he moved to tombstone and had a search about the light. Curious!!! It was a diary. He took it immediately and ran to the house.

When time passes slowly after a week in midnight , he opened the book and search for details about the owner of the diary. Oh blimey!!! It was empty. Shehan just write his name on the first page of the book. Within one or two seconds it disappeared. He got feared and suddenly diary starts writing. “Hi shehan my name is ..........” .

Shehan closed the book and threw it away from the window. On the following day morning when he got up, the diary was on his table. He scared more and more. It seems to be that diary starts to follow shehan. Then he opened the diary. It was a story about the assassination of the owner who must not be named. Three of thugs had murdered the anonymous owner of the diary.

Shehan was totally scared about the incident and he asked that what he can do for the well being of the owner.

It suddenly write that “ 🤬 the murderers”. Then shehan replied that “how can i do that?? I’m too innocent” . Then the diary became very angry( it says that owner is a bad tempered one😉) said “Do or Die”

According to my friends they said that shehan killed all the murderers and get rid from the diary. Further they said that diary also helped shehan to overcome some critical situations of his life. Even most of the people know this story no evidence had prove that it is a real ghost story.

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Here's my rather odd story. I'm not sure if this counts as a horror story

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Once, my grandfather had gone on a duty to a place far away and had to stay over night at a rest house. When the night came he tried to sleep several times but he couldn’t. He felt like someone was in the room with him. Somehow he couldn’t sleep all night because of this atmosphere.
In the morning he complained about this to the rest house keeper before returning home. Then the rest house keeper said that someone had committed suicide in that room about a month back!

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Do I believe in ghosts?
Could I trust something that I can't see or touch?

We've heard the usual stories about ghosts and demons, so I'd rather tell you about stories surrounding my school that used to spook me and my friends in our school-days.

Our school was founded in 1889 and served as a hostelry before it was altered to be a school.
It was Used as an infirmary and then a military hospital for the British during world war 2.
So it obviously had a history of many ghosts.

There are stories about
1. A headless soldier riding through school corridors at midnight
2. A dusty old gloomy room that was locked
3. A dead girl

But there's one story we actually believe that might be true,
It's a story about a nun who worked as a nurse during the outbreak of an epidemic in 1909 she died of the same disease.
It was said that she looks after sick children in the hostel.some say they saw her. There was this girl who told that she dreamed about a nun looking after her when she was sick and there was talk about some girls finding her diary.
We don't know if these stories are true or not.

I've never had an encounter with any supernatural activity but I believe that there's something in between life and death.

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Once upon a time there was a girl who is "Theja'.she was a kind of mischief who lived in a rural village.Everyday she used to go to bath her village river which is far away from her home. But one day as usual she went to bath from the river,but she felt strange.similar to some one near to her,at once she got faint.
When she opened her eyes she was at her bed surrounded by so many village people,at once all asked "What happens to you Theja".but she was silent she had nothing to tell.Days passed alike she was not who was before.the Little mischief Theja,now totally different.Her mother understood the dramatic change of her daughter.
Next day morning they decided to take Theja to a priest who is in their village.and priest has murmured some stanza.suddenly Theja spoke in someone else voice that was a 'Male voice'.All got shocked and That male voice started shouted at all ,I 'Am a ghost ,and I never let her and go'.But priest had not stopped preaching stanza,but all efforts went vein.Her parents tried so many ways to get Theja back to normal .but all the times they failed. Now the situation became more and more worst.
After few days they got to know about a medicine man who lived in the next village,then suddenly Theja's parents took her to that man.
That man touched Theja's head and murmured a stanza .again she talked in that startle voice' stop it ,stop it" then that medicine man replied 'Who are you,What are you doing by using this little girl go away from her'.After few minutes that male voice started crying and said 'I am Theja's grandfather,I Love her a lot,and when I was lived these people did not treat me well,so I came to get revenge of it.'

Then that medicine man said"You are already dead,you are not belong to this world ,if you are truly love your grand-daughter let her and forgive for them'

after that grand father replied ' I will go but you all needs to light a candle on my cemetery every day,then only I could go into another soul'

Medicine man said' Yes I promise you,Now leave her and go away' and he started preaching stanza again.after a while Theja fainted.and her parents realized their mistake which was done for their grand father and they started lighting a candle everyday to make their mistake correct.

( I GOT TO KNOW THIS STORY FROM MY GRAND MOTHER,AS PER HER IDEAS THIS WAS A TRUE STORY,Though scientifically not believe on Ghost,there is something which is exist within us,They are GHOST)).

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Kindling

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Title: Kindling

Author: Raymond Carver

Myers has just gotten out of rehab for drinking. His wife is done with him and so with nowhere to go, he rents a room from Sol and Bonnie near the ocean. Sol has a withered hand and Bonnie is a larger woman. They welcome him to the house and show him the room. They ask Myers but he keeps his comments brief and simple. The room is small but has the essentials and a river can be heard from the room. Myers takes the room and Sol and Bonnie leave him to the room. He unpacks as the couple go back to watching TV. He starts to write a letter but finds what he wrote to be bad and tosses it. Meanwhile Bonnie and Sol chat and Sol believes he's on the run from something but isn't dangerous. Bonnie thinks he has the saddest eyes she's ever seen. Bonnie starts to think about how she would write about him since she is an aspiring writer. The two retire to the bedroom and have sex but Bonnie is thinking about Myers the whole time. Afterwards, the whole house falls into sleep, dreaming about things they cannot have. In the morning begins a routine, where Myers stays in his room until the two have left the house for the day. They regularly invite him to breakfast and other activities like watching TV, but he tends to stay away. Sol and Bonnie regularly try to find out more about him but his details are few. However, Myer's focus is on writing a letter to his wife. One afternoon, a truck arrives and drops off a large pile of wood. Sol explains that it's to be cut up and stacked. Myers offers to cut it up even though Sol can't pay. While Sol and Bonnie have dinner, he does overhear that they did have money for him but this also confirmed that Myers didn't have much else to do. After dinner, Sol shows him how to use the power saw to cut the wood. Sol also shows him how to split wood with an ax for kindling. Myers takes very quickly to cutting the wood and this stimulates some writing for him that night. He spends the night slightly excited to go work. The next day he sets to work on the woodpile, taking a break for lunch. He sweats, gets splinters, and blisters but cannot stop. He is determined to finish the pile by nightfall. Bonnie and Sol come home and have dinner while Myers continues on. He comes in just as they are finishing dinner and says that he's finished but will clean up the sawdust in the morning. He also explains that he'll be leaving in the next day or two to which Bonnie tells him there is no refund on the room. Myers is fine with this. He goes to the bathroom to wash up. He returns to his room and begins writing some of his experience before going to bed.

Reflection

Carver breathes a lot into this story and the idea of how to kindle a fire. Myers is nursing a fire to reconnect with his wife and yet by story's end, he has kindled a fire quite different. He may still write to her but it seems like it will be a profoundly different letter than what he set out to do. For a full listing of all the short stories in this series, check out the category
Short Story #269 out of 365
Rating: 3 (out of 5 stars)
Date Read: 8/1/2014
Source: The short story can be found at this website.
365 Short Stories a year.

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Short Story #269: Kindling by Raymond Carver

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Myers has just gotten out of rehab for drinking. His wife is done with him and so with nowhere to go, he rents a room from Sol and Bonnie near the ocean. Sol has a withered hand and Bonnie is a larger woman. They welcome him to the house and show him the room.

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They Are Not Your Husband

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RAYMOND CARVER THEY'RE NOT YOUR HUSBAND Earl Ober was between jobs as had gone to work nights a shop at the edge of town. One night when he was drinking Earl decided to stop by the coffee shop and have something to eat, He wanted to see where she worked, and there was always the chance he could order something on the house. He sat at the counter and studied the menu. "What are you doing here?" Doreen said when she walked up. She handed over an order to the cook. "What are you going to order, Earl?" she said then. "You sure the kids are okay? "They're fine," he said. "Ill have coffee and one of those Number 'Two sandwiches." She wrote it down. "Any chance of, you know?" he said to her and winked. "No," she said. "Don't talk to me now, I'm busy." Earl drank his coffee and waited for the sandwich. Two men in business suits, their ties undone and their collars open, sat down next to him and asked for coffee. As Doreen walked away with the coffee pot one of the men sai to the other, "Look at the ass on that, will you? I don't beli The other man laughed. "I've seen better," he said. "That's what | mean," the man said. "But some people like fat women." "Not me," the other man said. "I don't either," the man said. "That's what I was saying." Doreen put the sandwich in front of Earl. Around the sandwich there were French fries, some cole slaw, and a dill pickle. "Anything else?" she said. ".\ glass of milk?" He didn't say anything. He shook his head when she kept standing there. "PIT get you more cofiice," she said. She returned with the pot and poured coffee for him and for the two men. Then she picked up a dish and turned to get some ice cream. She reached down into the container and with the dipper began to scoop vanilla ice cream. The white skirt tightened against her hips and crawled up her legs, exposing the lower part of her girdle, the backs of her fleshy thighs, and several dark, broken veins behind her knees. a salesman but Doreen, his wife, a waitress at a twenty-four hour coffee 101She reached down into the container and with the dipper began to scoop vanilla ice cream.The two men itting beside Earl exchanged looks. One of them raised his eyebrows. The other man grinned and kept looking at Doreen over his cup. She spread chocolate syrup over the ice cream. As she began to shake the can of whipping cream Earl got up, leaving his food, and headed for the door. He heard her call his name, but he kept going. He checked on the children and then went to the other bedroom and took off his clothes. He pulled the covers up, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to think about the incident. The humiliation started in his face, the forehead and cheeks, and worked down into his shoulders and on into his stomach and legs. He opened his eyes and rolled head back and forth on the pillow. Then he turned on his side and fell asleep. He didn't even recall her getting into bed later that night. 'The next morning, after she had sent the children off to school, she came in the bedroom and raised the shade. He was already awake. "Look at your self in the mirror," he said. "What?" she said. "What are you talking about?" Just look at yourself in the mirror for a minute," he said. "What am I supposed to see?" she said, but she looked in the mirror over the dresser and pushed the hair away from her shoulders. "Well?" he said. "Well, what?" she said. "LT hate to say anything, but I think you'd better consider going on a diet. | mean it, I'm serious. 1 think you could stand to lose a few pounds. Don't get mad," he said "What are you saying?" she asked. "Just what T said: [think you could stand to lose a few pounds. \ few: pounds anyway," he added. "You never said anything before," she said. She raised her night- gown over her hips and turned to look at her stomach in the mirro "T never felt it was a problem before," he said. He tried to pick his words. He started to tell her about the cracks he'd heard the night before, but decided to save that for now, He could always bring that up later if she needed more convincing. The nightgown still gathered around her waist, she turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. She raised one buttock in her hand and let it drop. He closed his eyes. "Maybe I'm all wet," he said. "T gu ord to lose. But itd be hard," she said. "You're right, it won't be easy," he said. "That's so true. But Vil help." I could a "Maybe you're right," she said. She dropped her nightgown and looked at him, 103

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They Are Not Your Husband Raymond Carver

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RAYMOND CARVER THEY'RE NOT YOUR HUSBAND Earl Ober was between jobs as had gone to work nights a shop at the edge of town. One night when he was drinking Earl decided to stop by the coffee shop and have something to eat, He wanted to see where she worked, and there was always the chance he could order something on the house.