Nobody's Fool (34 page)

"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 181 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 snow blower 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 docs 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." Clearly this made no sense at all to Ralph. Snowblowers cost a lot of money, and it wasn't like you couldn't sell a used one, especially this time of year.

Ralph himself was always inclined to trust Sully, but this was by no.

means his wife's inclination.

Vera would smell something wrong with this arrangement immediately and probably find a way to insult Sully for making the offer.

"Sounds awful good," Ralph admitted sadly, like a little boy imparting bad news to a friend--my mom won't let me.

"I'll let you know how it works out," Sully promised, then nodded in the direction of the boy.

"Don't be too surprised if he wants to drive home." Ralph studied the boy, smiled.

"I kinda wish I could be around to see him and his brothers grown up safe. I'd feel a lot better knowing they were okay."

"What makes you think you won't be?" Sully said. Ralph apparently found encouragement in this question.

"Maybe I will," he shrugged, his face brightening.

"Hell, maybe we both will."

"Hold that thought," Sully suggested by way of good-bye, and the two men shook hands again before Sully went back inside. At the cigarette machine by the door Sully was able to watch Ralph back out cautiously and point the car back toward Bath, driving like a man who didn't intend to die in an accident.

Sully caught just a glimpse of his grandson snuggled into Ralph's big body for safety. The same girl who had waited on Sully and his grandson came over when he went back into the restaurant.

"More coffee?" she said. She actually smiled.

"Okay," Sully agreed.

"And a chicken-fried steak on the side." She blinked.

"You want a chicken-fried steak?"

"Right," he said.

"We got a special on turkey and stuffing," she said.

"All the trimmings for six ninety-five."

"Terrific," Sully said.

"I'll see if I'm still hungry after my chicken-fried steak." The girl's smile disappeared. In her opinion there should have been a law against wise-asses on Thanksgiving. Carl Roebuck's car was in the driveway, so Sully pulled in behind it. He looked around for the snow blower but it wasn't in sight. Carl himself was seated at the kitchen table staring at a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's when Sully knocked and went in.

"You know," Carl looked up.

"When we bought this house, the realtor swore people like you weren't even allowed in the neighborhood." Sully pulled up a chair.

"You must have misunderstood her," he said.

"She probably said there were no niggers allowed."

"I've always considered you a nigger," Carl said.

"You do nigger work for nigger wages. Niggers have higher aspirations, of course." Sully lit a cigarette and blew smoke in CCarl's direction by way of response.

"I'd be happy if I could just get you to pay me my nigger wages.

That's my only aspiration, in fact." Carl inhaled Sully's smoke deeply.

"Can I have one of those?" Sully tossed him the pack. Carl pushed the bottle in Sully's direction.

"We'll drink right out of the bottle, like men," Carl said.

"This'll be men's night here at Casa Roebuck. Glasses? We don't need no fucking glasses." He inhaled his own cigarette deeply.

"You never go to the movies, do you?"

"Never," Sully said.

"You don't even own a VCR, I bet."

"Not even," Sully admitted. Carl shook his head.

"Sully, Sully, Sully.

You're not an eighties guy. "

" If I had a VCR, would I be happy like you?

" Sully said. " Not as happy, probably," Carl said. He took a swig from the bottle Sully hadn't touched, then set it back down. He laughed suddenly and let his head loll back so he could look at the ceiling and ran his fingers through his hair. " Fuck me," he said. He sounded absolutely exhausted. " Exactly which of your doctor's instructions are you following these days," Sully inquired. " All of them," Carl said to the ceiling. " Every one. "

" He advised you to drink and smoke and screw your brains loose? "

" Except those," Carl grinned drunkenly. " Those were unreasonable requests. He wouldn't have made them in the first place had he known me. " "If he knew you, he wouldn't have resuscitated you. Where's Toby?"

"Toby who?" Sully let the question hang.

"Around someplace. She wouldn't want to join us for men's night." Carl Roebuck studied him drunkenly.

"God, I hope I don't end up like you." Sully nodded.

"I

hope you don't either," he said agreeably. Carl shook his head.

"Sixty years old and still getting schoolboy crushes. By the time I'm your age, I hope to be smart."

"Well, it can't hurt to hope," Sully said.

"You're off to a slow start, though, if getting smart is your goal."

Carl ran his hands through his hair.

"That's my wife's posit ion," he admitted.

"She's displeased with me at the moment, even though I took your advice this morning and went home. Problem was, I got laid twice on the way.

Then I made the mistake of telling her about it and asking her forgiveness.

I think I may have ruined her Thanksgiving."

"You can sleep on the couch again if you want," Sully said. He got up, stubbed his cigarette out in the sink, washed the ashes down the drain.

"That's the worst couch in Bath," Carl said.

"I had nightmares on that couch." He took out his wallet, extracted a wad of bills and tossed them in front of Sully.

"Buy yourself a new fucking couch. You can't expect houseguests to sleep on a couch that gives them nightmares."

Sully fanned the notes with his pinky. There looked to be roughly a thousand dollars.

"I'll come by tomorrow," he said.

"You can pay me then."

"Take it now," Carl advised.

"When my wife divorces me I won't be able to pay attention. This is your chance. Take whatever the fuck you think I owe you."

"Don't worry," Sully said.

"I'll get what you owe me. I'll get it when you're sober, too. That way you'll be good and pissed off." Carl shook his head.

"You do nigger work for nigger wages, but you got a white man's scruples. No wonder you don't have a VCR."

"Or a snow blower Carl howled, his face turning beet red with delight.

"I'll tell you the God's honest truth. The only fun I had all day today was stealing back my own fucking snow blower

"Well," Sully got up.

"You go ahead and keep it till it snows again. Next time screw the railing back down, at least.

My landlady falls, and she'll own C. I. Roebuck. "

" She can have it," he said.

"If they don't start on that fun park, I 185 won't be able to give it away." Then he thought of something.

"I didn't tell that nosy fucker anything, by the way."

Sully stopped at the door.

"Who?"

"That guy this morning."

"What guy, for Christ sake?"

"The guy who came into the office right after you left." Sully remembered the man in the dark sedan who'd said he had an imperfect understanding of the situation.

"Little guy?" Sully said.

"All dressed up?"

"The very one."

"He was parked down front," Sully told him.

"I threw a snowball at him. He seemed unhappy I noticed he was there. I figured some angry husband hired him."

"He wanted to know if you worked for me. I told him no. Which reminds me.

I might have something for you and your dwarf tomorrow," he said.

"Stop by the office."

"Okay," Sully agreed.

"Why don't you go to bed?"

"Because I'm not tired."

"You're exhausted. You should see yourself,"

"I may be exhausted," Carl conceded.

"But I'm not tired."

Toby Roebuck was sitting quietly in the truck when Sully got in. The truck's dome light didn't work, and the glowing tip other cigarette was the only testimony to her presence.

"God, you're a jumpy man," she said. She had, in fact, startled him.

"I wasn't expecting you," he said. She looked at him.

"There must be a lot of surprises in your life, Sully." This was true, and Sully didn't deny it. Today had been a pretty surprising day, start to finish.

"How come you let him back in?"

"I didn't," she said.

"I think Horace gave him a key, the dirty, double-crossing snake. Carl was there when I got back from Schuyler."

This reference jogged Sully's memory.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there's a rumor circulating about you."