John Domini - Highway Trade and Other Stories

Nellie sat up too fast, spots in her eyes. But she knew already what the boy was doing.

“I mean I’m sorry you had to see it, Ernie. My man. But hey, you know about those hormonal changes. Heh-heh-heh-heh. The doctor told me, he said the early teens are the worst.”

Trying to breeze along, talking like it never touched him. Her head cleared, she saw the newsprint had left some bad stains and the front of his shirt was filthy with grape juice. But the boy’s grin was strictly Elvis.

“Hey really, it’s lightweight. It’ll probably just, dry up and blow away by the time I get out of high school.”

Nellie didn’t have the strength. Yes this was the last straw, this was what it felt like. She got her first good look at the morning’s ruin. The table’s cast-iron base was upended, the frayed rubber mouth of the juice pitcher still dripping purple. The works at the bottom of the fridge were spattered with grounds, and the dog had left jam-prints everywhere. Now how dear God was she supposed to start with Wade? Someone like her, useless and dithery and fake, a fake — where was she going to get the energy? It must have been simple relief, then, that had Nellie smiling like such a Mongoloid a minute later.

Smiling so widely she tasted the morning’s freshness: the door had stood open long enough to air the place out. Plus she was having the craziest thoughts. Nellie thought that now she’d like to have some breakfast, or how about if they let Wade open one of his presents early? Herky-jerky-crazy, it had to be relief. But though she believed she had a handle on it, Nellie couldn’t stop, not even when it became obvious that a grin like hers was no help to Ernie. The man was doing his best to hang in there, after all. He’d crossed the room and cut off the radio. He’d found some paper towel and squatted down to start the cleanup, bending under one of Wade’s arms, looking rather burly and heavyweight in contrast to the boy’s spidery pale reach. And Ernie’s talk was quiet, serious. But there she sat grooving away, fingering her robe together over her own outstretched legs and settling more comfortably against the wall. Not at all the kind of support he needed.

At the Drop By Cafe Christmas was another loss. Come New Year’s, Richter decided that the only way out was to have all the girls wear something more revealing. His timing wasn’t any good either. The owner called everybody in late on a Monday, when Wade needed a ride home from basketball and Nellie had already agreed to run a special errand with Ernie. She worked it out. The boy was taken care of and Ernie was with her in the bus. But then she walked into the Drop By and found her boss tacking up a poster of some cheerleaders.

The photo had been extensively retouched; the first thing she thought of was the sheeny hard-rubber cars she used to buy for Wade. These girls wore black skirts crotch-high. Plus, of course, the same damn red leotards.

Yet with all the other shakeups going on that Monday, it was Fitzie who got to her most. While Nellie stood gaping at the poster, the other waitress was already redoing the buttons on her jacket — pretty flashy stuff itself, since Jack had joined the Elks’ over the holidays.

“People,” Fitzie said, “before I wear black and red like that, somebody’s going to be black and blue.”

And she gave Nellie a look, and she walked. For a moment there Nellie couldn’t see past the word “Auxiliary” stitched across the jacket’s back: of course the Elks’ was men-only.

It was all she could talk about when she got back out to the bus. She didn’t even make sure the other woman’s car was gone. That Fitzie was hard as nails , Ernie; she didn’t care who she hurt. The man pursed his lips. He waited till she’d stopped kicking the floorboards and pounding the steering wheel. He went on waiting, tapping his fingertips against the window. But she couldn’t pull out either. A VW this old needed a minute to idle during the rainy season.

Finally he asked if this was about the errand they’d planned for this afternoon. Was she really that anxious?

He whisked his spread hand side to side across the glass, clearing a sloppy crescent in the condensation. “I mean if the trip’s such a problem for you, babe — if it’s going to make you throw a fit — well hey.” They could skip it. They could go pick up Wade instead. Or maybe she had a better idea: he showed her the old gym-class smile. When Nellie was slow responding, Ernie reminded her that the boy’s father had left a message at the Social Security office. Rusty was only too glad to have some more time with Wade. He and the boy were cruising the music stores, looking for sheets Wade could use with the new synthesizer.

She geared up. “Fitzie’s got nothing to do with today’s deal,” Nellie said. “And besides, when you’ve told a guy you’re going to buy some of his sensamilla, you can’t just not show up. The guy might be an outlaw, but he’s an outlaw for keeps. For real, Ernie. If we wimp out on a deal like this, he’s liable to sic the Dobermans on us.”

Ernie wouldn’t back off. On the first straightaway he lit a cigarette for her and took advantage of the eye contact. This woman shook you up pretty bad, babe? Nellie allowed her spine to sag. Okay, okay. Ernie Hernia . She explained that at one time it had looked as if she and Fitzie were really going to get close.

“I realize now that she’s not like me. I mean, whatever I do with men, it’ll always be a joke to her. ‘The Lady in Red’ or some such bullshit. She’ll always think of me as the lady in red. When what I need is a person who can see the games for what they are.”

“But you two nearly got close?”

Nellie’s eyebrows came up slowly. “Ernie, I almost told her about the drugs I took when I was pregnant. Honestly, almost. I mean of course you’re right about that, we can never know for certain. Even the amphetamines, we can never know. But Wade’s sick, Ernie. Wade is very sick. I only got around to telling you about those drugs just last week.”

Ernie nodded, spoke again. She didn’t catch it because she was turning off the highway, fighting the transmission. The windshield quivered and the suspension was all chirps and squeaks. But Nellie got the message. She smiled when he patted her thigh. Nonetheless she wasn’t prepared for how fast Ernie changed the subject. A minute later, not even a minute later, he seemed to be talking as if any feelings about Fitzie were way behind them. He was asking about her thing next week, up in Salem. Nellie wished she didn’t have to keep her eyes on the road. She frowned and smiled, shook her head.

“Testifying for the Senate task force?” He was so loud that, for the first time in weeks, she noticed how much he still sounded like he came from New York.

“The disabled-children task force, next week Nellie? Up at the State House? You know if you actually go through with that, someone like Fitzie might not understand.”

“Oh, I’m going to go through with it.” Okay. He wasn’t telling her to shrug anything off. “They think they can just go on the way they have, they think they can just drop by and tell me how to run my life? No way. I’m going to testify. From now on I’m going after them.”

Ernie nodded so hard she could feel it in the seat-springs. “Yeah babe. Yeah, good.” Nonetheless his look remained serious. “But see, Nellie, see. It’s like you were saying earlier about games — politics can also seem like a game. Same as sex, exact same problem. And you’re like already an outlaw to Fitzie about sex; just wait’ll she sees you getting into politics. You think that won’t be way too heavy for her? I mean when I give someone like Fitzie one of my contracts, I want to say, Look! This is for real! They’ve got your whole life right here between the black lines! But she just sits there trying to figure out what the trick is.”