A. Homes - Safety of Objects - Stories

He left Sears promising himself he’d deal with the tires later; if necessary he’d go directly to a tire store where salesmen waited day and night for guys like Frank to walk in. He went into the mall charged by the prospect of a new project — an unexpected surprise, like a bonus — finding something to buy, to bring home to Mary like show-and-tell.

Just outside Sears, two women from the local Red Cross sat at a folding table with a blood pressure cuff between them waiting for a victim. The atmosphere was festive. Diet experts in workout clothing mingled freely. Stop Smoking Now. Lungs like giant latex condoms expanded and collapsed. Mental Illness: The Hidden Symptoms. He reviewed the list without intending to. Bad news. According to Frank’s own evaluation he had all the signs of Chronic Untreated Disturbance. According to the description he was a time bomb that could go at any minute. No warning. Health Fair ’go ended in front of Woolworth’s. Two candy-striped cardboard poles marked the beginning and the end.

Frank spotted Adam — the kid who tripped over his laces the day before — in the record store. He went directly to him and slapped his hand down on the counter, stinging his palm.

“Hey, Adam,” Frank said.

Adam was startled. He looked down at his shirt to see if he was wearing a name tag. He wasn’t.

“Adam, talk to me.”

“What?”

“Tell me about CDs — are there different kinds? Different sizes? Do they all play on the same machine?”

For the past two years, everything Frank saw or read nagged him about CDs.

Adam looked at Frank like Frank was an extraterrestrial, an undercover cop, or some new brand of idiot. He didn’t say anything. The silence made Frank uncomfortable. He wanted to be friends.

“I’m serious, Adam. I’m very serious.”

Adam kept staring, checking out Frank. He wanted to be sure he didn’t end up on the wrong end of a joke.

“They’re all the same,” Adam finally said, tentatively. “You get a player and plug it into your stereo, or you can get a portable.”

“What do you have?”

“Portable. I plug it into my car stereo. That’s really cool.”

“I bet.”

Adam looked at Frank like he was still waiting for something to happen. Maybe Frank was someone’s father coming to tell Adam he didn’t want his daughter riding around in Adam’s car with Adam blasting her eardrums anymore.

“What do you listen to?”

“I dunno,” Adam said, suddenly shy.

“Well, what do your friends listen to?”

“All kinds of stuff.”

“If I wanted to buy something, what would you recommend?”

“New Poizon Boiz just came in,” Adam said happily.

“I’ll take one. Do you sell the players here?” he asked, handing Adam his American Express card.

“You get them at Wire Wizard, upstairs, just across from King Pin.”

As Adam was ringing Frank up, a big-haired girl, identical to Julie, Tina, and Nails, came up to Adam, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pushed her tongue down Adam’s throat.

Every organ in Frank’s body jumped. His insides rose up. He signed the charge slip, turned around, and went straight to the Wire Wizard.

“I need a CD player,” he said desperately to the salesman.

“What kind?”

“A good one. A very good one. I have to be able to plug it into my stereo or my car.” He felt flushed and out of breath. He thought of the freshness of a fifteen-year-old body.

“We have a few like that.”

“I want the best. I have to have the best,” Frank said, excitedly.

“The best is not necessarily the most expensive.”

“I know that,” Frank said.

What kind of guy did this kid take him for? He tapped his fingers on the counter.

“Give me what you’ve got,” Frank said to the guy.

He felt like he had to hurry. He had to finish this soon. He had to go back and see what Adam was doing.

“This is a very good model,” the guy said, taking something out of the case.

“Great,” Frank said, without looking at the player. He laid his charge card on the counter, sure that this was how people did it. Credit was free, easy, there was always someone giving it away, asking you to take more.

“Do you want to hear it?”

“I trust you. I really do,” Frank said, looking the guy in the eye for half a second.

When Frank got out of the Wire Wizard, Adam was gone. Lunch break, his manager said, winking.

On the down escalator Frank pulled the receipt out of the Wire Wizard bag. A hundred and eighty-nine dollars. He couldn’t believe it. He’d figured it would cost fifty or sixty bucks, seventy-five at most. What had he done? What would Mary say? He quickly shifted his attitude to a more adaptive one. I’m allowed. I am absolutely allowed. I deserve it. He wouldn’t tell Mary. He would find something else to bring home, something smaller, perhaps something specifically for her, like a present.

From the escalator he saw the crowd around the jeep. He counted the number of contestants left. Since yesterday eleven had walked away. According to the woman on the escalator in front of Frank, they’d thrown up their hands and asked to be let out. One had to be taken by ambulance when, for no apparent reason, she started vomiting.

“How’re you doing?” he asked Julie’s mother.

She smiled and nodded her head.

“It’s nothing yet,” Julie’s mother said. “Tomorrow it’ll start getting good.”

“I’ll be here,” Frank said.

“So will I.”

Frank felt his presence did something to the contest. He had the idea that the way he looked at the contestants either gave them what they needed to go on or broke them right there on the spot. He felt powerful and necessary.

They were down to nine. They all looked willing to call it a day. An incredible assortment of junk food was scattered half-eaten among the lounge chairs and coolers; fast food from every carry-out in the mall had been supplemented by special-request items like Ding Dongs and cream soda. It surprised Frank that no one thought of the nutrition edge. No one seemed to think eating right during the five-minute breaks might make all the difference. There were no Tiger’s Milk bars, no bowls of pasta salad, not even any goddamn Gatorade. Who were these people? Frank wanted to know. He really wanted to know. He imagined interviewing them during their breaks, like Geraldo Rivera, asking what it felt like to touch the car, why they chose to spend their break standing, talking on a pay phone, instead of lying down? He wanted to know why no one was wearing support stockings or using heating pads on long extension cords.

As he stood trying to figure out how he could become an official consultant, a girl right in front of him was disqualified. Her knee buckled and her hip banged against the car.

“You’re out,” the judge called like an umpire in a baseball game.

With a completely bewildered look on her face she stepped away from the car. Frank saw the sweaty prints her hands left on the hood. Instead of looking at the girl he looked at the other contestants. They were taking inventory, checking each other out, placing unspoken bets on the order in which they would fall.

Frank stayed until the mall closed. Store lights blinked on and off, warning customers that the end was coming soon. Assistant managers started pulling metal security gates down and fiddling with their keys. Frank thought of people left overnight, locked in. He started walking back in the direction of Sears and then turned around and took a last look at the contestants. He imagined them all changing into their pajamas during the eleven o’clock break. Frank silently said good night to the remaining eight players and barely made it through Sears before they locked the doors. He had nothing for Mary.