you want a ride home?” Nancy asked.
“Nah, I can walk home. It’s only a couple of blocks.”
“Well,” Nancy said, “it was nice meeting you, Mackenzie. I had fun. Maybe we could do this again some time.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I have to work a lot. I don’t have much time off.”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around sometime.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
I closed the car door and gave the obligatory wave. Before Bill got in the car he looked at me and shook his head.
I went back into O’Leary’s and sat at the bar. Ugly brought me a beer. I must have had a sorrowful look on my face because Ugly asked me what was wrong.
I shrugged. “My life is crap. I have a crummy job. I don’t have a car. My friends don’t have much time for me anymore.”
“You work for Charlie, don’t you? I hate to say it, but you could do better. Have you ever thought about working at the Post Office?”
“Me? At the Post Office? I don’t think so.”
“It’s a pretty decent job. Good benefits. Good pension.”
That was something I hadn’t thought of before. Pension. What kind of pension would I get after thirty or forty years at the gas station? I knew what Charlie would give me: enough money for a weekly ration of gas and beer, and a hearty, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”
Ugly continued. “You’re a veteran right? You have to take the civil service test for the Post Office, but no matter what score you get, they add five points just for being a vet. Ten points if you’re a disabled vet. Are you disabled?”
“No. Not unless you consider a fear of typewriters a disability.”
Ugly winked and waved a finger at me. “I’m going to tell the Superintendent of Mails you’re interested in employment. Stop in and pick up an application. You won’t be sorry.”
“Thanks, Ug…I mean, Dennis. I’ll think about it.”
“Hey, call me Ugly. Everybody else does. Ain’t no big thing.”
The following Friday night I was working at the gas station. I hadn’t seen John in a week; not at Henry’s, not at Shop-Rite. But he did call to say he would be at Henry’s that night.
“Alone?” I asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Just wondering. You know, I haven’t met Birdie yet.”
“I know. I’m preparing her.”
Bill had already gone back to Rutgers, but I did speak to him before he left. He mentioned that Nancy sometimes goes home on weekends, and that maybe I should give her a call sometime.
“What for?” I said.
“You’re hopeless,” Bill said.
At around eight o’clock I was showing a lady customer her dry dipstick, informing her she needed two quarts of oil. Actually, I had learned to wipe the dipstick clean with a rag and show the dipstick to the customer. I sold a lot of oil that way.
The phone rang. It was Charlie. He told me the weekend guy had cut his thumb carving a ham and wouldn’t be able to work for a while. Charlie said I would have to work Saturday morning.
I was pissed! I didn’t like working Saturday. I especially didn’t like working in the morning. Most days, I never got out of bed until noon. But Charlie said I only had to work until one o’clock, so that wasn’t so bad.
I was anxious to finish work and meet John at Henry’s, but I wasn’t able to close the station until ten thirty. Some dumb ass came in at the last second needing a fill up and a pint of transmission fluid. To teach him a lesson I charged him double for the transmission fluid.
All the aggravation of the day melted when I met John at Henry’s. I unwound with a couple of shots and beer. John seemed content to nurse one beer. He had a lot to tell me. Work was going well for him. He worked mostly days now, and I thought that meant his nights were spent with Birdface. He admitted he was not able to see Birdie everyday because he was going to night school.
“You mean you’re going to college?” I said, almost choking on my shot.
“That’s right. The G.I. bill pays for almost all of it. You should consider it, Mac.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you want to better yourself?”
“Hey, John, look at me. You can’t improve perfection.”
“I’m serious, Mac. You should use your veteran benefits to get a degree.”
“It’s a waste of time. Why are you wasting you’re time going to college?”
“It’s not a waste. I can go far in my job with a college degree.”
“What? The last time I saw you at work you were sweeping the floor. What’s a step up? Shoveling chicken gizzards?”
“You don’t understand. I can be making good money in a couple of years. I’ll need it when I’m married.”
“Oh, now I understand. Birdhead put you up to this.”
“Her name is Birdie!”
“I don’t care if it’s Birdbath. That bitch is running your life and you’re letting her get away with it.”
“You better watch what you say, Mac.”
“It’s true. You marry her and you can kiss your life good-bye. That bitch.”
“Stop calling her a bitch!”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch.”
“You’re asking for it, Peck!”
“Ooh, is that a threat, Mr. Vegetable Man?”
“I’m leaving,” John said.
I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. “You’re not going anywhere! I’m not through with you yet.”
John spun around and pushed me against the bar. “You’re drunk, Mac. Now leave it alone.”
He started to walk out again and I pushed him from behind. “I’m right and you know it. That broad has you wrapped around her little finger. I bet she even makes you wear a rubber.”
I never before saw so much anger in John’s eyes. He came at me so fast I didn’t have time for evasive action. He hit me square on the jaw and I stumbled back against the jukebox. Before I could strike back, Big Ed had a hold of my arms and was herding me toward the door. I put up a fight, but Big Ed held
