Richard Russo - Nobody's Fool

“You could come visit whenever you want,” he told Sully, as if Wacker might be the reason his grandfather had, until now, stayed away.

“I will, too,” Sully assured him, consulting his watch. The boy had been talking for half an hour, which made them overdue back at the house. “We better head back, don’t you think?”

Will’s face fell. “I’d rather live with you.”

“If you lived with me, then I couldn’t come visit,” Sully pointed out. “Besides, if I stole you away from Mommy and Daddy, they’d put me in jail. Grandma Vera would see to it.”

Will knew this was true. He didn’t want to head back, but he didn’t want Grandpa Sully to go to jail, either. Somehow, just talking with Grandpa Sully had made him feel braver. He wasn’t quite so afraid of Wacker anymore. True, Wacker would get back at him for the toilet seat, but when it happened, Will would just think of all those years his brother would have to spend locked in his room.

At the register, Sully paid for the coffee and his grandson’s ice cream. In the nearest booth somebody was eating a chicken-fried steak, which looked and smelled good. Sully’s stomach had settled a little and he remembered he hadn’t eaten all day. On the way out of the restaurant he considered calling Vera and telling them they were on their way, then decided not to. In ten minutes they’d be there in person.

And they would have been, too, if there’d been any gas in Sully’s truck. There’d been over a quarter of a tank this morning, but most of that had idled away at the curb outside his ex-wife’s house, and now the truck was bone dry, which Sully would have seen if he’d thought to look at the gas gauge on the way to the restaurant.

Fortunately, this time it was Ralph who answered the phone when Sully called, and fifteen minutes later when the Buick pulled into the restaurant parking lot, it was Ralph at the wheel. “Grandpa to the rescue,” he chortled when Will ran to him. Ralph flushed then, realizing. “I kinda think of myself as their grandpa,” he admitted to Sully.

“That’s okay,” Sully said. “It’s the way I think of you, too.”

“You better get in the car,” Ralph told the boy. “You don’t have no coat on.”

This was true, though Sully hadn’t noticed it. Will scrambled into the front seat and behind the wheel of Ralph’s Buick. Ralph handed Sully the five-gallon gas can he was carrying. “How’d he get the bump on his head?” he asked somewhat conspiratorially, as if he knew he’d be required to explain when he got home.

Sully explained guiltily. Vera had always maintained that he was a dangerous man, and he knew what she’d say when the boy came home damaged. Ralph, on the other hand, seemed to understand that these things could happen.

“Hell,” he said. “We didn’t even know he was gone there for a while. Then we thought he’d run clean away. I was glad to hear he was with you.”

“Vera wasn’t.”

“Well, you know her.”

“Yes, I do. She’s still convinced nobody loves her, I gather.”

“She’s having a rough day. Her dad being so sick and having all the company. She gets all twisted up inside.”

“I should’ve known better than to come over,” Sully said, affected by Ralph’s generosity. “I did know better.”

“Don’t feel that way,” Ralph said, genuinely hurt. “You’re always welcome.”

“Well, I sure appreciate your coming out,” Sully said. “I must have idled away five gallons right outside your house.”

Sully unscrewed the gas cap and inserted the can’s retractable spout.

“Go ahead and put it all in,” Ralph suggested. “I won’t be mowing no more lawns for a while.”

“You don’t have a snowblower?”

Ralph shook his head sadly. “I gotta get one, though. I can’t shovel since my colon. Damn near killed me this morning, and I waited until half of it melted. It’s hell getting old, ain’t it?”

When Sully was sure he’d put in enough gas to get back to town, he removed the spout and screwed the gas cap back on.

“Go ahead and use it all,” Ralph said.

“This’ll do fine,” Sully said. “Thanks again.”

“You want to come back to the house?” Ralph asked. “Things have settled down. You never even got no turkey.”

“That’s all right, I didn’t come for turkey,” Sully said. “What’s the story with Peter and Charlotte?”

Ralph shrugged. “I never understand things,” he admitted. “I don’t know why people can’t just get along.”

“You don’t?” Sully said. “How old are you?”

“It ain’t that hard to get along,” Ralph insisted. “Just treat people good and they treat you good, most of ’em, anyhow.”

Sully nodded. “Except for the ones who don’t. And except for the times you don’t feel like treating other people good.”

“I never mind treating people good,” Ralph said.

“I know it,” Sully conceded, “but you’re the exception.” He took out his cigarettes, offered one to Ralph, who, he sensed, was in no hurry to return. The air was mild and “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” was being piped into the parking lot.

Ralph refused the offered cigarette. “Vera made me give them up,” he said. “Beer too, except when I sneak.”

Sully lit a cigarette. “I won’t tell.”

Ralph grinned, shook his head. “I gotta admit I feel better,” he said. “It was the doctor made me quit, actually. Vera just makes sure.”

“She’s a natural.”

Ralph studied his shoes. “You really missed out, not spending your life with her,” he said, much to his own and Sully’s surprise.

“You could be right,” Sully agreed, not so much because he thought so as because it was an oddly touching thing for Ralph to say, for one man to say to another about a woman they’d both been married to.

“I know she’s bossy,” Ralph admitted. “And she’s not happy unless she’s trying to change people. She’s not mean, though.”

“Vera was never mean,” Sully agreed. “Just frustrated about not getting her own way.”

“I guess they all want their own way.”

“So do we,” Sully pointed out.

Ralph thought about it. “Not me,” he said finally. “I just like for people to all get along. I don’t care whose way. What difference does it make, whose way?” Ralph wanted to know. Having admitted to letting Vera have hers, he would have liked to get Sully to agree about the wisdom of his practice.

Sully shrugged. “All day long people have been trying to get me to eat turkey. What I really feel like eating is a chicken-fried steak. Why shouldn’t I eat one?”

Sully had chosen the example at random and unknowingly struck a nerve. Ralph was inordinately fond of fried foods and was no longer allowed to eat them. “They’re bad for you,” he pointed out weakly, aware that this particular argument wasn’t likely to succeed with Sully.

“Suppose I want one anyhow?”

“Why would you want something you know’s bad for you?”

“Good question,” Sully admitted. “I always do, though.” He put his cigarette out with his shoe by way of punctuation. “By the way,” he added when they’d shaken hands. “I know a guy who might be getting rid of a snowblower cheap.”

“How come?” Ralph wondered. After all, winter was about to descend on them in earnest.

“Moving to Florida,” Sully lied.

“Won’t need it there, will he?” Ralph said.

“If you’re interested …” Sully said. “It’s practically brand-new. I’ve used it myself.”

“I don’t know,” Ralph said, looking away. “How much does he want for it?”

“I think I might end up with it for free,” Sully said. “You could keep it over at your place and I could borrow it.”