Roadwork

“So when Ralph died and Ray Tarkington said he’d already hired a guy from outside to run the washroom, I couldn’t understand what in hell was going on. And Ray says, My father and I want you to go back to college. And I say, Great, on what? Bus tokens? And he hands me a cashier’s check for two thousand dollars. I looked at it and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I say, What is this? And he says, It’s not enough, but it’ll get your tuition, your room, and your books. For the rest you work your summers here, okay? And I say, is there a way to thank you? And he says, yeah, three ways. First, repay the loan. Second, repay the in terest. Third, bring what you learn back to the Blue Ribbon. I took the check home and showed Mary and she cried. Put her hands right over her face and cried.”

Vi

“So in 1955 I went back to school and I got a degree in 1957. I went back to the laundry and Ray put me to work as boss of the drivers. Ninety dollars a week. When I paid the first installment on the loan, I asked Ray what the interest was going to run. He says, One percent. I said, What? He says, You heard me. Don’t you have something to do? So I say, Yeah I think I better go downtown and get a doctor up here to examine your head. Ray laughs like hell and tells me to get the fuck out of his office. I got the last of that money repaid in 1960, and do you know what, Vi

He shot his cuff and showed Vi

“He called it a deferred graduation present. Twenty dollars interest is what I paid on my education, and that son of a bitch turns around and gives me an eighty-buck watch. Engraved on the back it says: Best from Don amp; Ray, The Blue Ribbon Laundry. Don was already a year in his grave then.

“In 1963 Ray put me on your job, keeping an eye on dry-cleaning, opening new accounts, and ru

“But they’re dead,” Vi

“Yeah, they’re dead, all right.” His mind suddenly felt flabby and unstrung, like an amateur’s guitar. Whatever he had needed to say to Vi

Vi

He gathered himself with an effort. “What I’m trying to say, Vi

“Sure, Bart,” Vi

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll speak to Ordner. But just for your information, Vi

Vi

“Yes. Everything’s under control.”

As Vi

Vi

Then Vi

Thump, the circuit breaker.

He went down on the floor, gave Ron Stone the salesmen’s folders, and when he walked away Ron was bawling for Dave to come over and look at this stuff, might be something in it. Dave rolled his eyes. There was something in it, all right. It was known as work.

He went upstairs and called Ordner’s office, hoping Ordner would be out drinking lunch. No breaks today. The secretary put him right through.

“Bart!” Steve Ordner said. “Always good to talk with you.”

“Same here. I was talking to Vi

“Good God, no. Although I did think, maybe Friday night, we could lay out a few things-”

“Yeah, I called mainly to say Mary can’t make it.”

“Oh?”

“A virus. She doesn’t dare go five seconds from the nearest john.”

“Say, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Cram it, you cheap dick.

“The doctor gave her some pills and she seems to be feeling better. But she might be, you know, catching.”

“What time can you make it, Bart? Eight?”

“Yeah, eight’s fine.”

That’s right, screw up the Friday Night Movie, prick. What else is new?

“How is the Waterford business progressing, Bart?”

“That’s something we’d better talk about in person, Steve.”

“That’s fine.” Another pause. “Carla sends her best. And tell Mary that both Carla and I…”

Sure. Yeah. Blah, blah, blah.