Read Online Strange as This Weather Has Been by Ann Pancake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ann Pancake
Ads: Link
my face, but I did what Jimmy Make’d said.The recliner was patched with duct tape ( WD-40 makes it go, duct tape makes it stop, Jimmy again in my head), and the room smelled like air closed up for a very long time, and in it, an old man with no woman. Him not talking made my face glow hotter in its spots, but all he did was that huff-breathing, the wordless speaking at the end. Then the TV audience suddenly clapped, and I just took a breath and told him. “I painted the bleachers at the Little League field with my church group summer before last. And I painted Mrs. Glenella Taylor’s fence, lives up Yellowroot near us.” I had Mrs. Taylor’s phone number in my pocket.
Right then, somebody else knocked at the door, and first thing I thought was Jimmy Make had gotten impatient and was coming after me. “C’mon in,” Hobart hollered. We waited. “C’mon in!” Hobart bellowed, then the door swung in.
“Your pop machine’s jammed up again.”
Hobart kind of snuffled. “I got somebody coming from Beckley take a look at it.”
It was a man a little older than Jimmy Make. A man who had to be staying here. Which meant he was a scab. That was one of the few things Lace and Jimmy agreed on anymore, even if some of them were union, didn’t matter, scab, and I looked at him there, he was the first one I’d ever seen for sure. Olive-green T-shirt, greasy creased jeans, just like any man around here wore. Cap like a cap any man would wear pulled over a face could’ve been on any man’s head. But then I saw the difference. His boots. The dirt on them a different color than Jimmy’s used to be. The scab would know what was behind that fill. I looked away from him. Saw Hobart was back to staring at me.
“I lost sixty cents in there.”
Hobart hacked his throat, paused a second. Swallowed. “I’ll settle up with you later. I’m talking to this girl now.”
The door shut. Hobart shifted on the end of his recliner and reached for a dirty cup in the mess of motel check-in cards and what looked like shredded newspaper covering his coffee table. His breathing kept itching my memory. Somehow it carried both a pleasure and a sad, and neither one made any sense in that office with Hobart. “How old are you?” he said.
My throat hardened. Jimmy Make had told me not to lie about my age, but not to bring it up either. “Fifteen,” I said.
It was the first time he nodded. “Can you start tomorrow morning, nine o’clock?”
“Yessir,” I said. “I’ll be here then.”
“Good job, Cissy!” Jimmy Make clapped one fist on the steering wheel, then reached down for the ignition and gave the gas a good loud stomp. Don’t call me Cissy , I said to myself. “When do you start?”
“Tomorrow.” We were pulling past Hobart’s sign. SPECAL WEEKLY RATES. I could still hear the breathing. Hear that air conditioner run. The look of the dirt on that man’s boots.
“How much is he gonna pay you?”
My face flinched, but Jimmy Make was busy driving. I hadn’t thought to ask. “Minimum, I guess.”
Jimmy Make grunted. “Minimum. Should pay you more than that, a painting job.”
I looked out the window.
“Well,” Jimmy Make decided. “That’s all right. Your first job and all.” Then suddenly he braked, pulled off on the shoulder, and U-turned back up the road. “Know what I’m gonna do?” he said. “Gonna buy you an ice cream cone.”
I knew it was in part an excuse to check up on Lace, or maybe he
actually missed her, who knew.They were both crazy that way, couldn’t stand the sight of each other, but then when one or the other was out of sight, they’d want that sight back. So they couldn’t stand each other again, I guess. Hobart’s was on our side of Prater and the Dairy Queen on the far side, so we drove back through town past the sunfaded FOR RENT and FOR SALE signs in the storefronts, and then the storefronts with nothing in their windows at all, had just given up, and you could see clear
Right then, somebody else knocked at the door, and first thing I thought was Jimmy Make had gotten impatient and was coming after me. “C’mon in,” Hobart hollered. We waited. “C’mon in!” Hobart bellowed, then the door swung in.
“Your pop machine’s jammed up again.”
Hobart kind of snuffled. “I got somebody coming from Beckley take a look at it.”
It was a man a little older than Jimmy Make. A man who had to be staying here. Which meant he was a scab. That was one of the few things Lace and Jimmy agreed on anymore, even if some of them were union, didn’t matter, scab, and I looked at him there, he was the first one I’d ever seen for sure. Olive-green T-shirt, greasy creased jeans, just like any man around here wore. Cap like a cap any man would wear pulled over a face could’ve been on any man’s head. But then I saw the difference. His boots. The dirt on them a different color than Jimmy’s used to be. The scab would know what was behind that fill. I looked away from him. Saw Hobart was back to staring at me.
“I lost sixty cents in there.”
Hobart hacked his throat, paused a second. Swallowed. “I’ll settle up with you later. I’m talking to this girl now.”
The door shut. Hobart shifted on the end of his recliner and reached for a dirty cup in the mess of motel check-in cards and what looked like shredded newspaper covering his coffee table. His breathing kept itching my memory. Somehow it carried both a pleasure and a sad, and neither one made any sense in that office with Hobart. “How old are you?” he said.
My throat hardened. Jimmy Make had told me not to lie about my age, but not to bring it up either. “Fifteen,” I said.
It was the first time he nodded. “Can you start tomorrow morning, nine o’clock?”
“Yessir,” I said. “I’ll be here then.”
“Good job, Cissy!” Jimmy Make clapped one fist on the steering wheel, then reached down for the ignition and gave the gas a good loud stomp. Don’t call me Cissy , I said to myself. “When do you start?”
“Tomorrow.” We were pulling past Hobart’s sign. SPECAL WEEKLY RATES. I could still hear the breathing. Hear that air conditioner run. The look of the dirt on that man’s boots.
“How much is he gonna pay you?”
My face flinched, but Jimmy Make was busy driving. I hadn’t thought to ask. “Minimum, I guess.”
Jimmy Make grunted. “Minimum. Should pay you more than that, a painting job.”
I looked out the window.
“Well,” Jimmy Make decided. “That’s all right. Your first job and all.” Then suddenly he braked, pulled off on the shoulder, and U-turned back up the road. “Know what I’m gonna do?” he said. “Gonna buy you an ice cream cone.”
I knew it was in part an excuse to check up on Lace, or maybe he
actually missed her, who knew.They were both crazy that way, couldn’t stand the sight of each other, but then when one or the other was out of sight, they’d want that sight back. So they couldn’t stand each other again, I guess. Hobart’s was on our side of Prater and the Dairy Queen on the far side, so we drove back through town past the sunfaded FOR RENT and FOR SALE signs in the storefronts, and then the storefronts with nothing in their windows at all, had just given up, and you could see clear