your convenience, Brenda,” he replied, looking at Ruth.
“Well, I'm free tonight,'' Brenda said, nudging Ruth under the table.
“Not me,'' said Ruth, “There’s someplace I've got to be this evening.”
“In that case we'll do it another time,'' Carlos said. “Adios, mis amigas.”
After he’d left, Brenda gave Ruth a look. “Hell's bells, why didn't you tell me you have a date? Anybody I know?”
“Yes, Billy. He's got a scout meeting and I promised to go.”
Ruth downed her Coke. “Time I got back to my desk.”
She rose and brushed some lint from her skirt. “The way my desk is piled up, I'll be lucky to get finished by quitting time.”
She did finish by quitting time, and driving home resisted a fleeting temptation to make a quick detour over to the mall and walk through one of the big department stores. She loved those big, fancy stores with their colorful, ever-changing displays, exotic perfumes and racks of beautiful clothes. Somehow, those places seemed to awaken her; it was as though she could feel herself changing, her senses quickening as she strolled through the aisles, stopping to spray some perfume on her wrist or caress a silky blouse.
It's the possibilities, she thought, as she drove down the broad avenue, passing a pair of old, Victorian-style mansions flanking a huge, stone church with Gothic spires pointing toward heaven. That's where Benny and I are so different.
Billy was waiting on the porch when she pulled up. Ruth could see that his tee-shirt was soaking wet and sticking to his skinny frame. Wendell Duty, their next-door neighbor, was watering his lawn and grinning at Billy, who stood on the porch in a puddle of water.
“Looks like you got a shower,” Ruth said. Wendell, a big, friendly Kentuckian, waved hello, sending a spray of water skyward.
“Yep,” Billy said, “Wendell and me have been playing fireman. Wendell is the fireman and I'm a hot cinder.”
The Dutys, Wendell and Darlene, had come up to Columbus from Hazard in 1971, “just before the good times, when the Arab oil boom hit the coalfields,” as they liked to say. Theirs was one of a half-dozen hillbilly households on the block. The locals referred to the neighborhood as Dogpatch. Its streets were lined with small, boxy frame houses, most of them surrounded by well-tended yards and bordered by rectangular garden plots. Cars on cinderblocks sat in a few of the yards.
Ruth hated those cars and especially the ones with their hoods up like gaping mouths. She told Billy the cars belonged to “white trash.” There were no junk cars on her street, but she nonetheless was determined to move away from the neighborhood as soon as possible.
“Uncle Russell called,” Billy said. “Said he'd call you later this evening.”
“Did he say whether he'd talked to you dad?”
“I forgot to ask. He called when me and Wendell was playin' fireman. I was drippin' on the rug so I didn't talk long.”
Ruth was conflicted about the way Billy seemed to be withdrawing from his father. On one hand it served Benny right, but she wanted Billy to have a man in his life, even if it was a stubborn asshole who drank too much. She hated it that Billy spent so much time with strangers and babysitters. He went to day camp at the city swimming pool from 8:30 until 3 p.m., and then stayed with the Dutys until she got home from work.
She was always short on money. Benny usually sent her a little something every month, but there wasn't much left over after she paid the rent, the day camp and the babysitters. If Benny were the right kind of man, she thought, he'd get his butt up to Columbus, get a job, and take care of his kid.
FOUR
Benny watched Junior's battered Plymouth Fury come skidding across the parking lot, with ZZ Top's “Sharp-Dressed Man” blaring at full volume. Junior braked to a stop and Benny leaned in the window, scowling. “Where the hell you been, Chicago?”
“We had a bl-blowout,” said Norvil, who sometimes stuttered when addressing Benny. “Junior's spare was flat and we had to roll the d-damn thing a mile back down the hollow to the g-gas station.”
Benny stared at the slim, long-haired boy behind the wheel. “Junior, I oughta kick your ass for makin' us wait up here with the snakes and lizards with no beer. And, turn down that goddamned radio.”
Junior grinned and handed him a tall, gleaming can. “This Bud's for you.”
“That would make a good commercial,” Benny said. “This Bud’s for you! I like it, but I like ‘This Bud’s for me’ even better. And I told you to turn off that damned radio.”
“Well, it was the last cold one. Mary’s cooler is busted again,” Junior said, turning down the volume.
“Well, it sure as hell's not very cold now,” Benny said, popping the tab. He took a swallow and proclaimed, “Bud's like...”
“...like gravity,” Junior crowed. “The same every time.”
Dwayne and Norvil burst out laughing. Even Benny couldn't keep a straight face.
“Junior,” he said, “you're a total fuckup, just like your old man. You even sound like Charlie when you laugh. Of course, your daddy was a lot smarter than you are.”
Norvil spoke up. “Hey, D-did'ja hear the news? It was on TV. They’re talkin’ about putting in a dam and flooding the upper part of the hollow. Everybody down at the store was talkin' about it.”
“Wouldn't surprise me,” Benny said, chugging his beer. “In fact, it's not a bad idea. We could start an underwater salvage business. We'd put our beer in the lake. That way, we wouldn't have to drink this warm crap.”
Junior climbed out of the Plymouth and flexed his arms, striking a muscleman pose. “Let's get to work. There's some killer weed floating around these parts right now and I'm busted flat.”
Benny suddenly made a fist and leaped forward, aiming for Junior's unprotected stomach. Then, he pulled back an inch short of contact.
Junior doubled up reflexively. “Gotcha!” Benny growled, adding, “You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, kid.”
Benny gave the boy an affectionate slap on the arm. Then he reached into the backseat, extracted a couple of beers and said, “You're just gonna have to wait a while 'cause it’s too hot now. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, when the sun's gone over the mountain.”
“I'm going too,” Dwayne said, grabbing a beer.
Junior looked up at Norvil, who was a good six inches taller and at least 40 pounds heavier than he was. “Leave the torch, then. Me and Samson here will cut up some stuff while you old-timers lay in the shade. We can load it later. I gotta make me some money.”
Benny grimaced as he and Dwayne headed back to the truck. The asphalt was now so soft he felt as if he were wading across it.
“Go ahead, get the stuff,” Benny said as he hoisted himself into the cab. “But be careful and wear the goggles when you're cuttin'.”
