shook his head. ‘Nope, but I heard it. I hear it’s bad, too.’
‘He’s tough.’
‘He’s old.’ Wolff was playing again with the salt and pepper shakers. ‘He ought to step down from being mayor if he’s got cancer like I hear he’s got. I don’t say he has to quit. I say he should quit. It’s for the better.’
‘I guess it is.’
When the Coca-Cola clock showed two minutes after eleven, Wolff got behind the counter and began making coffee for the church crowd. He still had the disjointed swagger that Perry remembered from high school, a sailor’s roll that joined with his deep voice to defy everything else about him.
‘Anacin and aspirin and all that stuff,’ Wolff was saying, talking to Grace like a teacher. ‘It’s made in these big vats, you know, and all it really amounts to is plain acid. And you know what acids are. Dangerous. You got to be careful.’
‘Why sell it?’ asked Grace.
‘Oh. Well, it is a medicine. That’s all I’m saying, honey. Aspirin is medicine and people forget that. I’m just saying you got to be careful because it’s not sugar. Not candy. Aspirin is a very potent medicine. Aspirin isn’t sugar. Sugar is organic, see? Sugar’s got carbons in it, but aspirin’s plain acid and acid is something you got to be careful of, see?’
Grace nodded. Then Wolff nodded. He straightened his lab coat and checked his watch against the Coca-Cola clock. ‘So,’ he said crisply, ‘bus gets in at eleven twenty. Who’s this relative anyhow?’
Grace laughed. ‘It’s no big secret, Herb. It’s Harvey. We just thought it would be best not to …’
‘Harvey?’
Grace smiled.
‘Harvey!’ Wolff wailed. He held his hands to his mouth like a girl. His voice sailed up an octave. ‘Harvey? Well this is … Harvey!’
‘It’s no secret,’ Grace said. ‘We thought he’d just want to get off the bus without any fuss.’
‘Geez,’ Wolff moaned. ‘Well, this is something. Harvey? Geeeezzzz. You should’ve told somebody. For Pete’s sakes. Harvey. Well, how is he?’ Wolff looked about the store. ‘For Pete’s sakes! You should’ve told us. He’s coming on the bus? Geez, I got to get some people here.’
‘I don’t think he wants that,’ Perry said. He decided to cut Wolff off fast. ‘Let’s just let it be a nice easy thing.’
‘We got to!’ Wolff wailed. ‘He’s coming home, isn’t he? Geez. I got to make some phone calls.’ He yanked his lab coat down, dusting it and hustling for the phone.
‘Herb. Forget it, will you?’
‘The whole town’s in church.’ Wolff banged the phone down and went out into the street and came back. ‘Geez, this is … I can’t believe any of this. Harvey. I just can’t believe it. He’s coming home. I mean, we got to get some people out for him, don’t we? How is he? I mean, how’s the eye and everything?’
‘He’s fine,’ Grace smiled. ‘We talked to him on the phone and he sounded cheerful and fine.’
Wolff rubbed his crewcut. ‘Well, we got to do something. Don’t we? Maybe … Maybe I ought to run over to the church and make an announcement or something.’
‘Forget it,’ Perry said.
‘What?’
‘Just forget it, Herb.’
‘But … I mean, shouldn’t we get some people here?’
‘No,’ Perry said.
Wolff frowned. He looked shaken. ‘At least the mayor?’
‘Nobody.’
‘Geez,’ Wolff moaned. ‘Somebody should be here when he comes. Don’t you think? If I’d known about it, why, I’ll tell you, I’d’ve had the whole council here. I’ll tell you.’
‘Leave him alone, Herb.’
Perry went outside and sat on the kerb.
The streets were dusty.
Jud Harmor’s pickup was gone now, but the two dogs were still there, curled in wait on the steps of Damascus Lutheran. Beyond the peeling buildings there was nothing but forest.
He cleaned his glasses and leaned back. Then he cleaned his glasses again. In a while Grace came out and sat with him.
‘Wolff still phoning people?’
‘Oh,’ she laughed. ‘I think I settled him down. He’s in there grinding fresh coffee for Harvey.’
‘Some creep, isn’t he?’
‘Paul.’
‘I’m sorry. You didn’t see the time in there?’
‘Few more minutes.’ She took his hand. ‘You all right now?’
‘Sure. I’m okay. I’m priceless. I’ll bet that damn bus is late.’
‘Shhhhh. You just relax and start smiling. Have a bright face.’
He gazed up Mainstreet to where the bus would turn in and hiss and stop. The street was silent. The heat seemed to absorb sound. Sitting on the kerb, he felt like a boy again, waiting to be picked up from school, or waiting in a stifling theatre for the curtain to draw up and the lights to fade and the movie to begin. He felt he’d been waiting a long time. He was restless. The long night had caught up with him and he needed a cigarette. He was restless. He needed a cigarette and the pack was empty. Grace sat silently, twisting her wedding band, toying with his hand until he pulled it away and stood up. Across the street and down a way, he saw the shoddy frame building where he had his own office. The Venetian blinds were down, forming a white backdrop for the lettering on the window: PAUL MILTON PERRY, and below his name, painted in orange, DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE, COUNTY FARM EXTENSION. Sucking the Federal Titty. Harvey always stated the unstated.
‘Awful hot,’ Grace finally said.
‘Damn bus is late. I knew it.’
‘Shall I see what time it is?’
‘Yes. And get me some cigarettes. And make sure Wolff isn’t on that telephone again.’
He walked to the end of the block and back again. One of the dogs trotted over to be scratched. The town was dead. He could hear the muffled sound of the organ inside the church. The town did not particularly depress him, but at the same time he often wondered why anyone still lived there. Wolff was there to sell coffee and medicine. The barber was there to cut Wolff’s hair into a flat crewcut once a week. The grocer was there to sell food to the barber. The farmers were there, trying to grow corn in the forest to sell to the grocer, and Perry was there to keep the farms going, to tell them when to use fertilizer, to fill out subsidy applications and loan applications, to watch the Swedes try
