F. Paul Wilson - Quick Fixes - Tales of Repairman Jack

“I can see why the place is deserted,” Schaffer said, glancing at Julio’s retreating form. “That guy’s downright rude.”

“It doesn’t come naturally to him. He’s been practicing lately.”

“Yeah? Well somebody ought to see that the owner gets wise to him.”

“He is the owner.”

“Really?” Schaffer mopped his brow again. “I tell you, if I owned this place, I’d–”

“But you don’t. And we’re not here to talk about the tavern business. Or are we?”

“No.” Schaffer suddenly became fidgety. “I’m not so sure about this anymore.”

“It’s okay. You can change your mind. No hard feelings.”

A certain small percentage of customers who got this far developed cold feet when the moment came to tell Repairman Jack exactly what they wanted him to fix for them. Jack didn’t think Schaffer would back out now. He wasn’t the type. But he’d probably want to dance a little first.

“You’re not exactly what I expected,” Schaffer said.

“I never am.”

Usually they expected either a glowering Charles Bronson type character or a real sleazo. And usually someone bigger. No one found Jack’s wiry medium frame, longish brown hair, and mild brown eyes particularly threatening. It used to depress him.

“But you look like a...yuppie.”

Jack glanced down at his dark blue Izod sports shirt, beige slacks, brown loafers, sockless feet.

“We’re on the Upper West Side, Mr. Schaffer. Yuppie Rome. And when in Rome...” Schaffer nodded grimly.

“It’s my brother in law. He’s beating up on my sister.”

“Seems like there’s a lot of that going around.”

People rarely sought out Jack for domestic problems, but this wouldn’t be the first wife beater he’d been asked to handle. He thought of Julio’s sister. Her husband had been pounding on her. That was how Jack had met Julio. They’d been friends ever since.

“Maybe so. But I never thought it would happen to Ceilia. She’s so...”

His voice trailed off.

Jack said nothing. This was the time to keep quiet and listen. This was when he got a real feel for the customer.

“I just don’t understand it. Gus seemed like such a good guy when they were dating and engaged. I liked him. An accountant, white collar, good job, clean hands, everything I wanted for Ceil. I helped him get his job. He’s done well. But he beats her.” Schaffer’s lips thinned as they drew back over his teeth. “Dammit, he beats the shit out of her. And you know what’s worse? She takes it! She’s put up with it for ten years!”

“There are laws,” Jack said.

“Right. Sure there are. But you’ve got to sign a complaint. Ceil won’t do that. She defends him, says he’s under a lot of pressure and sometimes he just loses control. She says most of the time it’s her fault because she gets him mad, and she shouldn’t get him mad. Can you believe that shit? She came over my place one night, two black eyes, a swollen jaw, red marks around her throat from where he was choking her. I lost it. I charged over their place ready to kill him with my bare hands. He’s a big guy, but I’m tough. And I’m sure he’s never been in a fight with someone who punches back. When I arrived screaming like a madman, he was ready for me. He had a couple of neighbors there and he was standing inside his front door with a baseball bat. Told me if I tried anything he’d defend himself, then call the cops and press charges for assault and battery. I told him if he came anywhere near my sister again, he wouldn’t have an unbroken bone left in his body to dial the phone with!”

“Sounds like he knew you were coming.”

“He did! That’s the really crazy part! He knew because Ceil had called from my place to warn him! And the next day he sends her roses, says how much he loves her, swears it’ll never happen again, and she rushes back to him like he’s done her a big favor. Can you beat that?”

“Nothing to keep you from getting a bat of your own and waiting in an alley or a parking lot.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it. But I’ve already threatened him – in front of witnesses. Anything happens to him, I’ll be number one suspect. And I can’t get involved in anything like that, in a felony. I mean I’ve got my own family to consider, my business. I want to leave something for my kids. I do Gus, I’ll end up in jail, Gus’ll sue me for everything I’m worth, my wife and kids will wind up in a shelter somewhere while Gus moves into my house. Some legal system!”

Jack waited through a long pause. It was a familiar Catch 22 – one that kept him in business.

Schaffer finally said, “I guess that’s where you come in.”

Jack took a sip of his coffee.

“I don’t know how I can help you. Busting him up isn’t going to change things. It sounds like your sister’s got as big a problem as he does.”

“She does. I’ve talked to a couple of doctors about it. It’s called co dependency or something like that. I don’t pretend to understand it. I guess the best thing that could happen to Ceil is Gus meeting with some sort of fatal accident.”

“You’re probably right,” Jack said.

Schaffer stared at him. “You mean you’ll...?”

Jack shook his head. “No.”

“But I thought–”

“Look. Sometimes I make a mistake. If that happens, I like to be able to go back and fix it.”

Schaffer’s expression flickered between disappointment and relief, finally settling on relief.

“You know,” he said with a small smile, “as much as I’d like Gus dead, I’m glad you said that. I mean, if you’d said okay, I think I’d have set you to it.” He shook his head and looked away. “Kind of scary what you can come to.”

“She’s your sister. Someone’s hurting her. You want him stopped but you can’t do it yourself. Not hard to understand how you feel.”

“Can you help?”

Jack drained his coffee and leaned back. Past the pots of dead brown plants hanging in the smudged front window he could see smartly dressed women wheeling their children, or white uniformed nannies wheeling other people’s children in the bright morning sunlight.

“I don’t think so. Domestic stuff is too complicated to begin with, and this situation sounds like it’s gone way past complicated into the twilight zone. Not my thing. Not the situation my kind of services can help.”

“I know what you’re saying. I know they need shrinks – at least Ceil does. Gus...I don’t know. I think he’s beyond therapy. I got the feeling Gus likes beating up on Ceil. Likes it too much to quit, no matter what. But I want to give it a try.”

“Doesn’t strike me as the type who’ll go see a shrink because you or anyone else says so.”

“Yeah. But if he was hospitalized...” Schaffer raised his eyebrows, inviting Jack to finish the thought.

Jack was thinking it was a pretty dumb thought as Julio returned with the coffee pot. He refilled Jack’s but Schaffer held a hand over his.

“Say,” Schaffer said, pointing to all the dead vegetation around the room, “did you ever think of watering your plants?”

“Wha’ for?” Julio said. “They’re all dead.”

The developer’s eyes widened. “Oh. Right. Of course.” As Julio left, he leaned over the table toward Jack. “Is there some significance to all these dead plants?”

“Nothing religious. It’s just that Julio isn’t happy with the caliber of his clientele lately.”

“Well he’s not going to raise it with these dead plants.”

“No. You don’t understand. He wants to lower it. The yuppies have discovered this place and they’ve been swarming here. He’s been trying to get rid of them. This has always been a working man’s bar and eatery. The Beamer crowd is scaring off the old regulars. Julio and his help are rude as hell to them but they just lap it up. He let all the window plants die, and they think it’s great. It’s driving the poor guy nuts.”