Read Online Waiting by Philip Salom - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip Salom
Tags: Fiction
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sorry. We canâ¦
Can you indeed? Well, I have one of you at the car and I have another one of you lifting that thing up to get away with it.
No, look, I suggest you contact the owner and we can see what his insuranceâ¦
Insurance! Think you can get away with it do you? NO. That is my car and youâre done. Youâre done.
Done? He would laugh if he could. She has been watching too much television. He suggests as much.
That is offensive. That is offensive. I heard the tone, that is very rude. Very very rude, I will see you punished. How dare you, how dare you, you are in no position toâ¦
The stone is too heavy to hold, and too heavy to have to pick up again.
She grunts and pants, and bends awkwardly towards the dented door â legs splayed and belly down, she really is very fat â she is a Sumo for a moment, she is challenging the car â and he sees the flash whitely against the black duco as she takes shots of the dent. Much worse than a dent, the metal is nearly cut open. She could almost cry if she wasnât so happy to have caught him.
Here, she calls, evidence. Evidence! You cannot say you didnât when I can show you did. Yes, I have it here.
I am going to carry this rock back uphill. Or do you want to take another photo? Here you go, howâs this? He does a half squat and lift and staggers back still holding the bloody stone against his chest, both his forearms under it, the rocky colour of exertion filling his face.
Aha! Stealing the evidence. Yet she stands there doing nothing.
Reality passes very quickly madam, youâve got to be quick.
Automatically, just in a time-lapse, she takes his advice, she raises her iPhone and her hand blinks.
I have you again. Yes. I have you again.
He tries to carry the stone uphill. He drops it. No. The thing starts rolling back, so he has to rush back and prop himself against it. He is puffing. Even he has heard of Sisyphus. He is vaguely aware of her screaming and feels like letting the bloody thing go. Eventually he hefts it, then staggers uphill and clicks it down against the stack like a monster lawn bowl. She is walking stubbornly towards him.
Uh uh! Puffing. He points to her feet. She stops, then starts again. Now she is walking on his side of the driveway.
Madam, (panting in fact) youâre trespassing. I canât let you stay on the property.
You what? You you⦠Iâm not moving until you take responsibility for the damage to my car. You are so offensive, so offensive. That is an insult and I wonât take it, no I wonât, I wonât take that from you.
Ha (he canât believe it). Now look, on behalf of the ownerâ¦
The owner! That man has his name on things but he doesnât own them. His kind donât own anything.
⦠(she might well be right)⦠just for my own peace of mind and ⦠in accordance with workplace safety, you cannot be on this property. I am going to get into my bobcat and carry on working and I canât be held responsible if anything should happenâ¦
Thatâs a threat, thatâs a threat. Heâs threatening me, she shouts this last rather oddly at Angus. Perhaps Angus is supposed to do something about it, take her side and tell himself off. A voice is coming from his mouth without him even thinking.
The more you shout and get angry and say stupid things in the third personâ¦
How dare you!
Long after she has gone he feels the shrill tones of her voice, the raucous edge to it making him think of some Mediterranean soprano, less Callas and more Souliotis, a once-big voice so wrecked it is ungainly.
The next day, Saturday, Angus is sitting on his verandah looking at the trees when he remembers, guiltily, the woman was in the right. He had better ask the absent âbusinessmanâ for his contract payment right away. Hope his insurance forms will shut her up. Insurance never satisfies the aggrieved though; they want to shout and accuse and scream
Can you indeed? Well, I have one of you at the car and I have another one of you lifting that thing up to get away with it.
No, look, I suggest you contact the owner and we can see what his insuranceâ¦
Insurance! Think you can get away with it do you? NO. That is my car and youâre done. Youâre done.
Done? He would laugh if he could. She has been watching too much television. He suggests as much.
That is offensive. That is offensive. I heard the tone, that is very rude. Very very rude, I will see you punished. How dare you, how dare you, you are in no position toâ¦
The stone is too heavy to hold, and too heavy to have to pick up again.
She grunts and pants, and bends awkwardly towards the dented door â legs splayed and belly down, she really is very fat â she is a Sumo for a moment, she is challenging the car â and he sees the flash whitely against the black duco as she takes shots of the dent. Much worse than a dent, the metal is nearly cut open. She could almost cry if she wasnât so happy to have caught him.
Here, she calls, evidence. Evidence! You cannot say you didnât when I can show you did. Yes, I have it here.
I am going to carry this rock back uphill. Or do you want to take another photo? Here you go, howâs this? He does a half squat and lift and staggers back still holding the bloody stone against his chest, both his forearms under it, the rocky colour of exertion filling his face.
Aha! Stealing the evidence. Yet she stands there doing nothing.
Reality passes very quickly madam, youâve got to be quick.
Automatically, just in a time-lapse, she takes his advice, she raises her iPhone and her hand blinks.
I have you again. Yes. I have you again.
He tries to carry the stone uphill. He drops it. No. The thing starts rolling back, so he has to rush back and prop himself against it. He is puffing. Even he has heard of Sisyphus. He is vaguely aware of her screaming and feels like letting the bloody thing go. Eventually he hefts it, then staggers uphill and clicks it down against the stack like a monster lawn bowl. She is walking stubbornly towards him.
Uh uh! Puffing. He points to her feet. She stops, then starts again. Now she is walking on his side of the driveway.
Madam, (panting in fact) youâre trespassing. I canât let you stay on the property.
You what? You you⦠Iâm not moving until you take responsibility for the damage to my car. You are so offensive, so offensive. That is an insult and I wonât take it, no I wonât, I wonât take that from you.
Ha (he canât believe it). Now look, on behalf of the ownerâ¦
The owner! That man has his name on things but he doesnât own them. His kind donât own anything.
⦠(she might well be right)⦠just for my own peace of mind and ⦠in accordance with workplace safety, you cannot be on this property. I am going to get into my bobcat and carry on working and I canât be held responsible if anything should happenâ¦
Thatâs a threat, thatâs a threat. Heâs threatening me, she shouts this last rather oddly at Angus. Perhaps Angus is supposed to do something about it, take her side and tell himself off. A voice is coming from his mouth without him even thinking.
The more you shout and get angry and say stupid things in the third personâ¦
How dare you!
Long after she has gone he feels the shrill tones of her voice, the raucous edge to it making him think of some Mediterranean soprano, less Callas and more Souliotis, a once-big voice so wrecked it is ungainly.
The next day, Saturday, Angus is sitting on his verandah looking at the trees when he remembers, guiltily, the woman was in the right. He had better ask the absent âbusinessmanâ for his contract payment right away. Hope his insurance forms will shut her up. Insurance never satisfies the aggrieved though; they want to shout and accuse and scream
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