John Sayles - The Anarchist's Convention and Other Stories

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Before John Sayles was an Oscar-nominated screenwriter, he was a National Book Award-nominated writer of fiction. The Anarchists' Convention is his first short story collection, providing a prism of America through fifteen stories. These everyday people — a kid on the road heading west, aging political activists, a lonely woman in Boston — go about their business with humor and resilience, dealing more in possibility than fact. In the widely anthologized and O. Henry Award-winning "I-80 Nebraska," Sayles perfectly renders the image of a pill-popping trucker who has become a legend of the road.

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John Sayles

The Anarchist's Convention and Other Stories

1

Home for Wayfarers

HEY ALWAYS HAVE the Career Girls sit together At least they do at New England - фото 1

HEY ALWAYS HAVE the Career Girls sit together At least they do at New England - фото 2

HEY ALWAYS HAVE the Career Girls sit together. At least they do at New England Life and at Hub Mail usually and at the First Boston Savings and Trust and here at the Home for Wayfarers.

"Maybe it's so we don't infect the regular help," says Chickie da Costa. "Or maybe it's so we don't find out what they're gettin paid for the same jawb."

Nina has a desk by the window, looking down on the parking lot and the grounds beyond it.

The Home for Wayfarers

Sincerely Thanks

For the Gift of Dollars Nina writes the name from the donation letter and fills - фото 3

For the Gift of Dollars

Nina writes the name from the donation letter and fills in the amount given. The thank-you card has an owl on it, a drawing by one of the children. She addresses an envelope by hand, stuffs the card in, puts it on the pile for Deke to pick up.

Nina listens to the others talk as she works. The Home is one of the best jobs Career Girls has sent her on. The supervisor is nice and the food is supposed to be good in the cafeteria. Most of the others have worked together here and there, and the two South Boston girls, Mary and Kathleen, are best friends.

"You do your work here," says Chickie da Costa, "there's no prawblems. Some places they're breathin down your neck the whole day."

"Like banks," says Barbara, squiggling improvements onto the picture of the owl. "Banks they're always on your fuckin case. Scared you'll mess up their precious computer cods."

Gwen clears her throat. Gwen clears her throat whenever someone swears, but they don't seem to notice. Gwen is in some kind of religious group.

Nina pulls another letter from her pile. Mr. and Mrs. George C. Papanicholau. There is barely room on the card.

"You're pretty fast," says Chickie da Costa. "The other girl we had, she couldn't write."

"She could write," says Kathleen, "only you couldn't read it. Not even the numbers."

"That's okay for filin, or if they got you on a machine, but for this stuff, where it's goin out for public scrutiny and all — no way. They had to send her back to Career Girls." Chickie looks over Nina's shoulder. "But you, you got nice handwriting."

"Thank you." It's the first she's said since she introduced herself. "It isn't that hard."

"For you it's not hod, but for some people, you'd be surprised."

Deke comes to collect another batch of letters. He wears a body shirt open four buttons and has a nice tan. He's dark, with white white teeth. He smiles at them, flashing all thirtytwo as he approaches.

"Hi girls," he says. "Got some more work for me?"

Kathleen pushes forward her stack of completed letters.

"Kind of pokey this morning."

He wears turquoise rings on all the fingers of his left hand.

"He wore his pants any tighter," says Chickie when he's gone, "he'd be bleedin out the ears."

"He thinks we're gettin all agitated over here," says Barbara. "He thinks we're over here creamin in our draws."

Kathleen and Mary giggle and Nina smiles. Gwen clears her throat.

"He joins Career Girls he thinks he's gonna clean up," says Barbara. "I worked with him over to this clearinghouse, they sent out all this stuff — electric bidet kits, whir-pool attachments for your tub, plastic bedpans — all this medical stuff. Deke was there packing boxes. You said two kind words to him he's on your case the rest of the day, hangin around."

"I sawr him over to Lucifer the other night."

"You're kiddin."

"Tryin to put the moves on every girl in the place."

"So'd you go home with him?"

Kathleen gives Mary a knuckle-punch in the shoulder. "Wise guy."

"Did you see him dance?"

"Yeah, he shakes his ass a lot. Thinks he's Gawd's gift to women."

"Some gift," says Chickie. "Tell Gawd he shouldn't of bawthered."

Barbara is in the bathroom when the supervisor comes over.

"How's it going, girls?"

"Just fine, Miss McCurdy. We're cuttin it down to size."

"Is Barbara okay?" Miss McCurdy is in her fifties. She wears glasses hung by a ribbon around her neck.

"She'll be fine, Miss McCurdy. It's her period or something."

Miss McCurdy frowns. "She doesn't look well. She doesn't look like she gets her rest."

"She gets loaded in there, Bobra," whispers Chickie when the supervisor is gone. "Every morning she goes in there, smokes a joint. Then after lunch another one. You want to see handwriting, catch hers by the end of the day."

"So how'd the interview go?" asked Robin. "Was she nice?'V

Nina looked at the print on the wall, trying to remember who had bought it. "Uhm, there was a note downstairs that said she'd already found a roommate. So I didn't meet her."

the room, watching Nina collect her belongings. di Oh." Robin was sitting on the footstool in the center of

"Do you remember," asked Nina, "which of us this belongs to?"

"The Cassatt? I think we bought it together when we were setting up here. At the Coop. Why, do you want it?"

"Well — "

"The only thing is, since we painted over the wallpaper, it gets a lot of sun there — there'll be a patch left."

Nina lifted the corner of the print, saw the different shade underneath.

"Didn't take long, did it?"

"No. It wasn't up that long. But take it if you want it, I can get something else that size, or maybe bigger — "

"No, no — "

Hummer came back from the Square with more beer. He said hi to Nina and went into Robin's room.

That was how it had started, Hummer going into Robin's room, Robin joining him, hushed voices. Nina sitting alone on the couch, waiting a bit, then finding something to do. Hummer moving in. The tension always there, spilling over now and then into something overt. Confrontations.

"The M. C. Eschers are mine," said Robin. "Both of them, I'm pretty sure. And that one with all the animals, the lion and the lamb and all that, that one's yours. You had it at school I remember."

Nina picked up the throw pillows she'd made, then put them back down.

"No sense in taking these," she said. "They're meant to go with this couch."

"When you find where you're going to be, maybe you'll need them."

"Wherever that is."

"I told Mrs. Malaparte about the change in the lease."

"What did she say?"

Robin shrugged. "She didn't seem to care. As long as Hummer doesn't keep his bike on the landing."

"And what's it called again?"

"The Family of God." Gwen is very mysterious about her group. She doesn't volunteer anything, but Chickie keeps after her.

"I never heard of it."

"We don't prostyletize."

"I should hope not. And they do everything for you?"

"We do everything for each other."

"You give them all your money?"

"We don't have property separate from each other."

"Not even a toothbrush?"

Gwen doesn't answer.

"I know a guy went into the Moonies," says Barbara. "He doesn't get to have any prawperty either. But then he never had any in the first place."

"Is that where you shave your head?" asks Kathleen.

"Those are the Hare Krishnas," says Nina.

Chickie looks at her. "You know about that stuff?"

"No. Not much."

"I worked with a girl," says Mary, "was a Scientologist."

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