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"Government talks about them makework jobs for folks who can't get nothin' else," Cinci
Elizabeth nodded. "I know," she said. She didn't say she wanted to go on cleaning other people's houses, and Cinci
"I know," Cinci
"I could look for something," Achilles said. "Plenty of people hire kids nowadays, because they can pay 'em less than grownups."
He was, of course, dead right. Cinci
So there were-a handful of each. Their clients were also colored, almost exclusively. Cinci
Amanda said, "Wish you was-wish you were -home more, Pa." She corrected herself before her older brother could do it for her.
"I wish I was, too, sweetheart," Cinci
It had always been as simple as that. Now, though, a new and dreadful simplicity threatened the old: even if he worked as hard as he could, as hard as was humanly possible, they still might not eat. That terrified him.
Snow was falling when he got up the next morning. He fired up the truck and headed for the railroad yard even so. He intended to get there early. Some truckers would let snow make them late. They were the ones who'd get what was left after the more enterprising men won the good assignments-or maybe the latecomers would end up with nothing at all.
When Cinci
Some of the grocery boys who helped him unload the fish were no older than Achilles. One or two of them looked younger than his son. Down in the CSA, even white kids would have pitched a fit about working alongside a colored man. Nobody here complained. The boys seemed as grateful to have work as Cinci
At one of the stores, Simmons himself signed off on the paperwork. He nodded to Cinci
"That's right, suh," Cinci
"You drive for yourself?"
"Yes, suh."
The grocery man studied him. "You do that just 'cause it's the way things worked out, or are you one of those people who can't stand taking orders from anybody? People like that, they start going crazy if they have to let somebody else tell 'em what to do, so they end up with a job where they work for themselves-either that or they really do go nuts. I've seen that happen a time or two."
With a shrug, Cinci
"You want a job with me?" Simmons asked. "Delivery driver, twenty-two fifty a week. You won't get rich, but it's steady." He pointed to the clipboard in Cinci
That held the unpleasant ring of truth. Even so, Cinci
"Do you?" Simmons scowled. Cinci
"No, suh." Cinci
"Have it your way," the grocery man said with a shrug. "Don't expect me to ask you twice, that's all."
"I don't, suh. Didn't expect you to ask me once. Right decent of you to do it."
Suddenly, Simmons seemed less a boss and more a worried human being: "Do you really think it'll get that much worse? How could it?"
"How? Du
That seemed to strike home. "Go on, get out of here," Claude Simmons said, his tone suddenly harsh. "Here's hoping you're wrong, but"-he lowered his voice-"I'm afraid you're liable to be right."
Over supper that night, Cinci
"You done just right." His wife spoke with great authority. "Couple-three months, he forget why he took you on and he let you go. What kind of mess we in then? Way things is, leastways you know what you got to do to git by."
"I thought the same thing-the very same thing," Cinci
"Can't get worse'n what it was when you was in jail," Elizabeth said.
"Hope to God it can't," Cinci
He would have got beaten, too, but he didn't talk about that. It wasn't anything his family needed to know, and it wasn't relevant to the discussion. Elizabeth said, "One way or another, the Lord provide for us."
"That's right," Cinci
And, one day about six weeks later, when he went to the railroad yard to see what he could haul, he remarked to the conductor, "I ain't had nothin' for the Simmons stores in a while now."
The white man sent him an odd look. "You wouldn't want that assignment if I gave it to you, Cinci