George Higgins - A change of gravity

"None of it was easy. Then I didn't really think about it, but since then I've thought about it very, many times. The reason she was so glad to get her job at Slade's Bakery in the center, where the Video Image Store's now? She'd been pining. The job wasn't anything big; just working at the counter there, saying Hello, asking the people that came in what they had in mind that day. Putting up boxes of whatever they asked for. Brownies; eclairs; date squares; jelly doughnuts; cookies and cup-cakes; custard pies. Putting the bread through the sheer. All of that stuff. Everyone liked Mister Slade's custard pies, and he really made excellent bread. So he had a lot of business. That meant a lot of people coming in for Polly to wait on, pass the time of day with. Help her keep up with what was going on, make her feel like she's back in the world.

"That job did wonders for her. I think about that every time I hear somebody say there's such a thing as "natural adjusted rate inflation-unemployment," or "structural unemployment." That there's always gonna be five or six percent of the work force with no jobs.

Nothin' the government can do about it. It's something can't be helped. Well bullshit; that's what I say. "Find something the poor bastards can do." Government has got to deal with it. That's what the government's for. It's a moral obligation, and I mean that. It's not just havin' no money that drags people down; it's feelin' like they don't matter, don't count any more. They lost the parts they had to play.

"I saw that with my mother. It was having that job that mattered to her. The sixty bucks a week she got: she found a way to use it, sure; it didn't go to waste. But basically the dough was gravy. That job kept her alive.

"After that it got a lot better at home, havin' dinner the nights I was there. The food wasn't as good 'cause she didn't have time to cook like she did when she was home all the time. And also, workin' in the bakery around food all day, she wouldn't be that hungry at night. But she'd bring home different things for dessert every night, and it was a lot better for her. You could see it. She was much happier. She had human contact again.

"You got to have that. We're natural herding animals. We're not supposed to be alone all the time, and when we are for too long, we don't like it. Don't handle it well. I think if you don't have that basic human contact, sooner or later you die.

"Anyway, that day Danny came in to pick up his car, I figured if I heckled him enough, he might hang around and entertain me. You get a guy who wants to be a politician like that, he's at your command. You even hint that you got something you'd like to talk about with him, bang, like that, you own him. His life is making people like him so they'll vote for him. Salesman like my father, only he's selling himself.

"He doesn't say he's doing that when he starts to talk to you. That would make you back away, think: "This guy's got something wrong with him. Don't wanna get too close." No, what he says is that if he gets elected he can do something for you you'll have a better life. If he's good, he convinces you. You and a whole bunch of other people vote for him because he's made you think he can improve your life. All he needs to know is what you need, so he can then make the noises you will think mean that if you vote for him he'll get it for you.

"Of course by the time he gets through he's gonna have to promise a hell of a lot. Which means he's gonna have to be pretty nimble later on, it comes time explain to people in the next campaign how come they didn't get exactly what he said they would when they first elected him.

But that's only if they remember. Most of them don't unless the guy running against you reminds them. But even then, by the time they get to the polls they' ll probably forgotten the reminder. People don't forgive, matter what they say. But they do forget. Their attention span is short.

"That snowy day I figured if I heckled Danny enough I could get a few laughs out of him. My own dear mother, those nights we spent talking: she was always telling me I was a fresh kid; saying if I didn't watch it, some day somebody was gonna get sore, haul off and pop me one. All my friends'd too, same thing. You got a talent, you use it. So I shoved the stick in his cage and started pokin' him around, makin' trouble."

Hilliard shrugged. "It's still awful early," he said. "The only people thinkin' about elections this time of year 're the people runnin' in them. No one else's interested. They wont be 'til a month before. Then they'll all start lookin' at the candidates, decide what they're gonna do."

"Think when they do that, they'll be lookin' at you?" Merrion said.

Hilliard grimaced. "Ahh," he said, 'you saw Dillinger's column. Boy has that guy ever got the right name, fuckin' assassin he is. FBI shot the wrong man, they plugged John too bad they didn't get Fred."

"Yeah, but is he right?" Merrion said. '1 know a lotta people don't like Freddie. My father couldn't stand him. Neither can Casey. My father used to come home nights and tell us something Casey said that day, something in Fred's column. Dad'd be roaring about it. But neither one of them could say it to anybody else; it might get back to Fred. Hadda keep their mouth shut. People read what Freddie writes and pay attention to it. He could wreck your business. And Freddie buys his cars here, too; don't want to lose his trade. People think he knows the stuff he writes about — it's inna paper, right? It must be true. And when he really nails somebody, pretty often he is right.

"So, if he is, today's column, and you're goin' down the toilet, why the hell wear out your car? Wear yourself out, too. What is it, you get your cookies this way? Gettin' your ass whipped in public?"

"Jesus," Hilliard said, "I need shit from you, too? You're as bad's your old man was. He gave me a ration every time I saw him; now he's dead, so I get it from you? You better not take too much for granted.

Everyone loved Pat Merrion. They knew that's just how he was, always stirrin' everyone up. So they took stuff from him. You haven't got that record goin' for you. Your father was a good guy."

"That's what everyone tells me," Merrion said. "But if he was such a good guy and all, then how come he named me "Ambrose"? That's a mean thing to do to a kid."

"How do I know? Hilliard said. "Maybe he was havin' a bad day. You may've been the cause of it, givin' him a lotta shit for no good reason. Decided he'd give you some back."

"You still didn't answer my question," Merrion said.

"I know I didn't," Hilliard said. "And you know why that is, you fresh prick? I don't know the answer myself, why I work my ass off and get nowhere. I did I'd give it to you. Why the hell not?

Dillinger's right, I've sure got nothing to lose. According to him, my second campaign isn't stirring up any more excitement than my first one, when I lost. That'll help me a lot. Even though this time I'm more mature, so people don't see me anymore as an upstart college kid trying to replace Roy Carnes, I'm still not getting anywhere. What if he's right? What the hell can I do?"

"You left out the part about how even though almost everybody now seems to think the guy who beat you the last time's turned out to be a real asshole," Merrion said.

"Thank you very much," Hilliard said. "I'm really glad I decided to bring my car in today, so when I came to get it you'd be here to cheer me up. Instead of on some other day when you're up in Amherst there, taking Sandbox Two and Finger-painting One-oh-one, and old AL. would've been here. No imagination, AL. Never reads the papers."

Merrion was laughing.

"Sure, go ahead, laugh your ass off," Hilliard said. "I now see I was wrong, I said you're as bad as your father, but your father had compassion. Now I not only get the pleasure of reading Dillinger's abuse myself; I get to enjoy it again when you quote it back to me. Not bad enough Fred says I'm already a loser; now I'm a pathetic loser; you're asking me how I like it."