Richard Russo - Everybody's Fool

The waitress working the counter now had her head together with the one who was waiting on the booths, and Roy thought he heard the phrase “out the back.” The big man in the filthy apron who ran the grill was called over, and after Roy’s waitress said something, he went into the men’s room, emerging a moment later and shaking his head at her. She then came over to where Roy sat staring at the sundae he couldn’t eat another spoonful of and wondering if he’d be able to hold back the hot tears he felt forming.

“I shoulda known,” she said, and when he made no reply, just swallowed hard, trying to keep the food down, she showed him the check, the amount circled at the bottom. “What am I supposed to do with this?” He knew what his father would’ve told her she could do with it, but he was only twelve, and it’d be several years before he’d be brave enough to offer any such suggestion. “They’re gonna dock my pay for this,” she told him. Everyone at the counter was watching them now, as well as the people in nearby booths. “Come on, Darla,” one of the tie-wearing men objected, “it ain’t the kid’s fault,” and apparently she felt the truth of this because she seemed to soften a little. “You live around here?” she asked.

He said he did.

“Can you get home on your own?” When he nodded, she said, “Well, then, git.”

Out in the parking lot, in the space where they’d parked, now empty, Roy vomited up everything, the cherry recognizable in the mess, and immediately felt better. The good news was that the diner was right on Route 9, which meant he could either walk or hitchhike the four miles home. He decided to walk, because it’d take longer and maybe his father would think that was punishment enough. Pushing himself down the busy road, he toyed with the idea of being angry at his father for playing such a low trick on him but decided in the end that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Besides, it was the waitress he was really mad at, her “I shoulda known” that he wasn’t able to forgive, as if the mere sight of him and his father was warning enough. That and the look she gave him when the man down the counter had taken his side. Like she could see his whole pitiful life stretched out before her, causing him to ball his hands into fists.

Still, it had been a valuable lesson. His father was right: wanting things that weren’t worth wanting or wishing things were different was a waste of time. Women like Cora — all women, probably — could never understand that, even when the evidence was staring them right in the face. Cora had some dumb-ass idea of Roy in her mind that she preferred to Roy himself. No doubt that asshole treated her nice. Told her she was pretty when she could see for herself that she wasn’t. Told her she was a good mom when she probably left the fucking kid alone in his playpen with a full diaper and crying his fucking little eyes out. Dream Roy didn’t stick her with the check. He even shared his meds. Whereas the real Roy? The one sitting with her on the dock? Well, that Roy saw things for true. He knew the steak in the picture wasn’t real, any more than Dream Roy was real. Just as he knew that later this afternoon, after the beer was gone, only one of them would be getting back into Cora’s shit-bucket car.

Though he’d only been twelve, he congratulated himself on not blaming his old man. He hadn’t gone more than half a mile when he heard a horn toot and his father pulled up alongside the curb, motioning for him to get in. “So,” he said, “you learn anything back there?”

Roy nodded.

“All right, then,” his father said. Pulling back into traffic, he seemed satisfied with how everything had worked out. He wasn’t angry anymore, Roy could tell, which meant no belt when they got home.

“She was pretty mad,” Roy said, “that waitress.”

“Maybe next time she’ll mind her own damn business,” his father said. “Think twice before she opens that big, fat mouth of hers.”

They were silent for a while until Roy said, “Everybody stared at me.” In fact, he could still feel their eyes on him as he slid off his stool and moved to the front door and out into the parking lot.

“I bet they did,” his father said. “But here you are. You didn’t die.”

Which was true. There he’d been, and here he still was.

“Pass them Cheetos,” he told Cora. Actually, he kind of liked Cheetos, except they made your fingers all orange.

The bag, he noticed, when she handed it to him, was half empty. She’d gone to town on it when he was in the camp pulling his fucking ear off. He thought about saying something about that, curious to see if he could make her cry one more time, but in the end — again — he decided not to. Instead, he ate a handful of Cheetos. “These aren’t too bad,” he admitted.

She smiled at him, orange lipped.

SULLY WAS STANDING by the window when Janey came in, her eyes swollen nearly shut from crying. This early in the morning, the waiting room of the emergency unit was empty except for Sully and Tina, Ruth’s granddaughter, who so far as he could tell wasn’t really there herself. He’d never had much luck with the girl. She didn’t respond to teasing, and with girls her age he didn’t have many other rhetorical strategies. He would try to engage her, but she always stared at him vaguely, like you look at a television screen when your mind has wandered elsewhere. This was different, of course. Tina sat perfectly still, staring off into some middle distance. In fact, she was so motionless that he kept glancing over to make sure she was breathing.

Janey made brief eye contact with Sully before going over to her daughter, squatting right in front of her. “Hey, there, Birdbrain,” she said, having apparently decided to attempt good cheer. “You okay?” When the girl’s unfocused gaze didn’t even flicker, Janey grew serious. “Tina, honey. I know you don’t want to, but you have to come back, okay? I know it was real bad, what happened back there, and I know you think you’re safer where you are, but you can’t stay there because it’s not a real place. Remember how we talked about it before? And what the doctor said about how the longer you stay away, the harder it is to come back? There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. It’s just you and me here. And Sully. You’ve always liked him.”

News to Sully, if true.

“None of this is your fault, sweetpea. You know that, right? I did a real dumb thing. Made your dad get all mad. But he’s gone now, and nobody’s gonna hurt anybody anymore. You understand? As soon as you come back we can all start making things better, you and me. Grandma, too. And Grandpa’ll be here just as soon as we can find out where the hell he is. Grandpa’s your special friend, right?”

Tina blinked slowly at the mention of her grandfather, and it seemed to Sully that her eyes started to focus, but then they quickly went blank again. Sully couldn’t blame her. She had only to look at her mother to know that her cheer was forced, her optimism just wishful thinking. Things weren’t going to be okay again for a long time, maybe never.

Janey gave in. “Okay, sweetpea. You can stay there a little while longer, but after I talk to Sully you’ve got to come back, okay? Then we’re going to start over again, like we do. It always gets better, remember? What comes after down? Up, right? Up’s the only direction left, and that’s where we’re headed, as soon as you come back.”

When Janey rose, her knees cracked audibly, and it occurred to Sully that the woman coming toward him wasn’t young anymore. Could it be that the last hour had plunged her so deeply into middle age? “Thanks,” she said, joining him where he stood at the window overlooking the parking lot below. “I assume it’s you who brought her here.”