you?”
“I’ve stheen beddeh days,” Mr. Vail laughs. Lois thinks he seems self-conscious. Well, jeez, who wouldn’t be? But his laughter is real. His blue eyes still sparkle, and he is still her old “Uncle Chester.” Lois had not seen Chester Vail in four or five years. Embarrassment flames her face for some inexplicable reason. “Pleeeeth, sthit down.” He pulls a chair away from the poker table with his good hand and gestures for her to sit, which she does with a smile.
She looks around the room, taking in the dulled paint on the walls, yellowed by years of cigar smoke, the bookcase with its thin collection of worn paperback novels, the new flat screen TV hanging on the far wall. She can smell the smoke and the books. It reminds her of her dad. She misses him.
“Where is everyone?”
“Dead.”
“Oh,” she says, caught off guard by his typically frank answer. “I mean, there’s no one in here. Where are the people who work here? Wow. This place used to be jam-packed, day or night, whenever I stopped by.” There had always been men crowded around the poker table, spitting and swearing, women sitting on the couch, watching daytime soaps, cleaning people and orderlies rushing around. Lois finds the emptiness of the place creepy and depressing.
“Yeah, well, I don’t think they led schuch lively oneth in here anymore. No more hellraithserths like me and your dad.” He laughs. Lois thinks she hears a touch of fear mixed in there somewhere. She knows she feels it.
“Listen, Chester, I was wondering if you maybe knew any good nurses looking for work. I was thinking of, maybe, your daughter? Does she still work as a nurse?”
“Oh, yeah, sthe’ths over to the hothspidal now. Hathes it, too,” he snickers. “Why do you athsk? You ain’t sthick, are you? Sthe’d care for you in a minute, Loith, you know that.”
So, Lois took down Debra Vail’s number and gave Chester a hug goodbye. As she leaves, he calls after her: “Happenths to everyone, Loith. I’m thsorry.”
A chill runs up her spine.
***
An already shiny red Mustang pulls into the church parking lot and stops in front of Lois. The driver, a young man with a goatee and a backwards baseball cap, hops out and gives her a ten dollar bill. “Shine ‘er up,” he says, smiling and snapping his gum.
The car wash had been Jason’s idea. The moms had called a Cool People’s meeting to talk about the possibility of setting up their very own group home. In hindsight, they agreed that it had been a lapse in judgment to discuss the subject with their highly volatile kids, but, once that box had been opened, there was no going back. The Cool People, overly excited, wanted to buy their own place immediately. There was a lot of cheerful whooping and shouting, followed by cries of disappointment at having to plan and wait, which were, in turn, followed by tears and temper tantrums at the thought of delayed gratification. Once the crisis had been averted, and everyone had calmed down, the group decided that the first thing to do would be to raise money.
None of the children had much of their own, since they all received social security benefits and, as such, were not allowed, by law, more than two thousand dollars in personal assets. Their checks from the supermarkets, super-stores, and fast food outlets were spent as soon as they received them. The Cool People’s parents ranged from very poor to middle middle-class. No one had extra funds to devote to the cause.
“We could have a car wash!” Jason had shouted, jumping off of Ally’s basement couch, forgetting the bowl of popcorn that had been resting on his lap. Popcorn flew everywhere, hitting people in the face, making them laugh. “Just like the cheerleaders and boy scouts.”
He’d clapped his hands and smiled at his brilliant idea. He sees cheerleaders and boy scouts as the absolute epitome of normalcy, which is his dream, just as it is Ally’s. Ally jumped up, squashing
“I’ve stheen beddeh days,” Mr. Vail laughs. Lois thinks he seems self-conscious. Well, jeez, who wouldn’t be? But his laughter is real. His blue eyes still sparkle, and he is still her old “Uncle Chester.” Lois had not seen Chester Vail in four or five years. Embarrassment flames her face for some inexplicable reason. “Pleeeeth, sthit down.” He pulls a chair away from the poker table with his good hand and gestures for her to sit, which she does with a smile.
She looks around the room, taking in the dulled paint on the walls, yellowed by years of cigar smoke, the bookcase with its thin collection of worn paperback novels, the new flat screen TV hanging on the far wall. She can smell the smoke and the books. It reminds her of her dad. She misses him.
“Where is everyone?”
“Dead.”
“Oh,” she says, caught off guard by his typically frank answer. “I mean, there’s no one in here. Where are the people who work here? Wow. This place used to be jam-packed, day or night, whenever I stopped by.” There had always been men crowded around the poker table, spitting and swearing, women sitting on the couch, watching daytime soaps, cleaning people and orderlies rushing around. Lois finds the emptiness of the place creepy and depressing.
“Yeah, well, I don’t think they led schuch lively oneth in here anymore. No more hellraithserths like me and your dad.” He laughs. Lois thinks she hears a touch of fear mixed in there somewhere. She knows she feels it.
“Listen, Chester, I was wondering if you maybe knew any good nurses looking for work. I was thinking of, maybe, your daughter? Does she still work as a nurse?”
“Oh, yeah, sthe’ths over to the hothspidal now. Hathes it, too,” he snickers. “Why do you athsk? You ain’t sthick, are you? Sthe’d care for you in a minute, Loith, you know that.”
So, Lois took down Debra Vail’s number and gave Chester a hug goodbye. As she leaves, he calls after her: “Happenths to everyone, Loith. I’m thsorry.”
A chill runs up her spine.
***
An already shiny red Mustang pulls into the church parking lot and stops in front of Lois. The driver, a young man with a goatee and a backwards baseball cap, hops out and gives her a ten dollar bill. “Shine ‘er up,” he says, smiling and snapping his gum.
The car wash had been Jason’s idea. The moms had called a Cool People’s meeting to talk about the possibility of setting up their very own group home. In hindsight, they agreed that it had been a lapse in judgment to discuss the subject with their highly volatile kids, but, once that box had been opened, there was no going back. The Cool People, overly excited, wanted to buy their own place immediately. There was a lot of cheerful whooping and shouting, followed by cries of disappointment at having to plan and wait, which were, in turn, followed by tears and temper tantrums at the thought of delayed gratification. Once the crisis had been averted, and everyone had calmed down, the group decided that the first thing to do would be to raise money.
None of the children had much of their own, since they all received social security benefits and, as such, were not allowed, by law, more than two thousand dollars in personal assets. Their checks from the supermarkets, super-stores, and fast food outlets were spent as soon as they received them. The Cool People’s parents ranged from very poor to middle middle-class. No one had extra funds to devote to the cause.
“We could have a car wash!” Jason had shouted, jumping off of Ally’s basement couch, forgetting the bowl of popcorn that had been resting on his lap. Popcorn flew everywhere, hitting people in the face, making them laugh. “Just like the cheerleaders and boy scouts.”
He’d clapped his hands and smiled at his brilliant idea. He sees cheerleaders and boy scouts as the absolute epitome of normalcy, which is his dream, just as it is Ally’s. Ally jumped up, squashing
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