“Fuck off.”
That could work, too, Dykes thought.
“Boy, you look as pissed as the lone tree in a dog park,” the construction guy said.
“Damn right I am. I haven’t been allowed in the chapel in six months because they are remodeling it. Well, I’m happy just to sit out in the Butt Hutt and smoke. But now they are letting that lady that kept seeing her dead husband go home today and she wants me to bless her before she goes. They say she is sane, but she doesn’t smoke so she doesn’t have liberty hours, so now I have to go up to the psych ward. I hate all those whackos up there.”
The nurse with SATAN tattooed on her neck frowned. “I am a nurse up on that ward and our staff does not allow people to call our patients wacko.”
“I was talking about the staff. You guys weird me out.”
“Yep,” she said. “That’s why administration makes us identify ourselves with these badges to wear around her neck,” she said holding up her badge and tugging the string it was on.” The nurse squeezed out the door the moment it began to open.
The construction guy picked up his wheelbarrow and followed her out as he said, “We finished the chapel months ago, Padre. It’s been as empty as the Michael Jackson Day Care Center.”
Father got out on six and Dykes realized he had missed his own floor, but now he pushed 2. The chapel was on the second floor. The chapel that would be quiet and unpopulated.
Chapter 41
Seuss paced his office as Mr. Petty sat at his desk and tried on the paper hat that Mr. Seuss wore when he served punch at the annual hospital holiday party (formerly the Christmas party). “Relax, Gregg. What are you so worried about? Bigger told your secretary this morning that he was taking the promotion. He knows that there is no promotion unless he gets his mom to agree to help us. It’s foolproof.”
“You don’t know the boy.”
”It’s a done deal.”
“He’s flighty.”
“Gregg, this is my plan. It is going to work.”
“And what if it doesn’t. The vote on the union is tomorrow and by then I want all these people to know that we have a big weapon.”
“Gregg, I’m the one that should be worried. All you have to deal with is the food service people. How much could they possible want?”
“Most of my people have worked here for twenty-five years. That’s twenty-five years without brainstorming meetings and without meetings where I pretend I might actually listen to their suggestions and I would like to keep it that way. They’ve never had any say or power in their jobs. Compare that to sex. How much sex would you want after going without any for twenty-five years?
“Listen, I could tell you how much.”
“Yeah, Greggy. It sounds like you could. But right now your Bigger is preparing to come and tell us everything is set. Relax.”
Chapter 42
In the visitors’ area of the psych ward, Father Chuck jonesed for a cigarette while patting Mrs. Annunzio’s hand and listening to her go on. He wanted to comfort this lady, but he wanted a cigarette, more.
“I couldn’t have walked into our house the day Gabby died. And once I would have made my way in, I know I would never have been able to step out of it again. But now I am going home and I am going to go out and do things. I am tired of being in here where all I do is watching TV and play Donkey Kong on the Nintendo 64.”
“Well, good. Good. Good.”
“But I am afraid that Gabby will haunt me.”
Father covered her mouth. “Don’t let them hear you say that or you will never leave. I am going to remove my hand, but you must not talk about any spirits around here holy or otherwise. Okay?”
Mrs. Annunzio wiped her mouth. “I meant his memory. His memory. I haven’t been able to think about him in here.” While she spoke a large man in a T-shirt and no pants ran into the room followed by staff who wrestled him to the ground.
“Why’s that?”
Mrs. Annunzio looked at him. “Are you Polish Catholic?” The patient and the staff rolled behind her. The man now had two nurses by the lanyards around their necks and was choking them.
“Let’s go the chapel,” Father Chuck heard himself say although he was clearly planning on saying that he would just come back, if he had the chance. He knew why though. He would not be able to bring himself to go in alone after not going to church for half a year. With desire, selfishness and fear, Father Chuck wanted to return to the traditions of Catholicism and Mrs. Annunzio was just the crutch he needed. With a nod of his head while standing at the door, Father cut through the paperwork that kept Mrs. Annunzio on the unit and soon found himself in the elevator with her.
The elevator stopped and two housekeepers got on. “So, Irene,” one of them said. “Did you see the ghost of that poor lady’s husband today? You are so brave to work the CCU.”
“Yeah, I asked him if he was going to vote for the union tomorrow and he said he was management now if his mom let him and couldn’t vote.”
“He’s a strange boy.”
Father helped Mrs. Annunzio through the elevator door and shot the housekeepers a look.
Blah, blah, blah, he heard from Mrs. Annunzio, but he tried to listen. Inside his head, a cowboy rode up on a horse and rolled him a cigarette. He wanted to get back to the Butt Hutt, but it did feel good to be heading towards the chapel and to be giving comfort again to this old bag.
“…and the kids have probably looted the house by now.”
Yes, he had never really felt attached to the chapel before, but he realized he had been giving mass there for twelve years. He remembered how envious he had been of the size of his classmates’ churches. His old roommate had a cathedral in New York. But now he was happy to think of how so many had searched out his little chapel in times of need and how he had been able to give care and attention to God’s children. “Oh, hey,” he said. “You stopped talking.”
“Shall we go in, Father,” Mrs. Annunzio said, pointing to the double doors of the chapel.
“You are returning home, Mrs. Annunzio. And in a way I am too. Maybe if I can get back into the chapel, I can get rid of my doubts and feel strong again. Lets go into my chapel and get the strength from God to begin anew.” He pulled both doors open, pushed one so that it would stay open and then the other.
Hand in hand, they headed inside.
“Jesus Christ on the Cross,” he said and fainted.
Chapter 43
Bigger sat on the roof of the hospital with his legs dangling over the side. Although he had his jacket on, his ears were red beneath his paper hat. He looked down at the doctor’s parking lot and at the vice-presidents’ and directors’ arboretum. The parking lot gleaned with Porsches, Cadillacs, Lincolns, Roll Royces, and Hum Vees. The arboretum served as a kind of day spa and teemed with directors sitting in hot tubs with drinks in hand while servants in winter jackets stood by in the snow to serve them.
“Are you going to jump?”
Bigger swung his head around to see Joe standing behind him. “Because if you are, I’d like you to wait until next week so we can have your funeral the day after Thanksgiving and I can get a four day weekend.”
“No way, man. I don’t think this fall would kill me- just send me to the emergency room. Then Dr. Supercilious would take care of me and I can think of funner ways to die. How did you find me anyway?”
“Well, I went to every floor and asked if they had seen you and they hadn’t.”
“If we shadows have offended, think this and all is mended, that you have but-”
“So I figured you would be where you could do the most harm to yourself and here you are.” Grunting with wooden movements, Joe sat down next to Bigger. He took a big drag off of his cigarette and then flicked the ashes over the executive fitness area. “Thelma and I finished bringing down the carts for ya.”
“Sometimes, Joe, I sit up here and wonder how those guys got to be so bitter,” Bigger said bitterly as he pointed to the directors and vice-p
residents in the hot tub below. “They started out in this field; they chose a job which is helping people get well. That means they had to be caring people once, doesn’t it? I even take some satisfaction in my job because I help people. If we didn’t make food and take it up to the patients, they would starve to death. At least I’m not doing something worthless like a flight attendant, or limo driver, or hairdresser, or-”
“I get the point, Bigger.”
“Right now, those guys are thinking up a new rule to make our time at our jobs harder. Remember the memo last week about using paper clips instead of staples because paper clips are reusable. They are not trying to save money; they just ran out of more evil ideas for making us miserable.”
Joe nodded. “Well, you’re right that these people started out trying to make the world better. It’s the only thing that I can come up with that makes sense. And now they’re angry. I can hear it in their voices. They hate us.” Joe looked at Bigger in the eye as he talked in a sneer. It was not a sneer of anger, but of strong emotion. He took his cigarette to calm himself.
“Bigger, they are miserable every moment of their lives and they just want to spread it around.” Joe leaned his head away from Bigger as he exhaled, away from the point he just made. “My other theory is that before they were bosses, they were underlings and they really fucked off, so they assume we’re fucking off too.”
“Right. So. Do I have to be like that to get what I want?”
“Bigger, what the hell is the matter with you?”
“I have a dead end loser job. No offense. I am two months behind on the rent. My wife isn’t talking to me and my boss thinks I am some kind of bush. You know I try to live in the moment or whatever.
“But today, I tried to do my job and I tried to talk myself out of being depressed, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to do another menial, thankless minute of my job. Not for double the pay. I could have cancer and be dying, but I don’t think I would mind that so much if I had done something in my life. If people would remember me.”
He sighed. “Seuss offered me a team guider position, which is a huge step up, but what will it do for me? I want a prestige job and money to give my wife what she deserves. I want a career to make my mom proud and enable me to play golf with my dad a couple of times a week. I want to do something that makes me important.”
“So what?” Joe leaned forward to see a small crowd of people gathered below their four white legs dangling over the side of the building. Some looked up and then moved on. Others, wanting to be a part of the event if something terrible happened, leaned against Petty’s new Land Rover (his winter beater) and waited. “Who doesn’t want that? But there has to be somebody to super size our order.”
“Some people are happy doing that. Like you. You like who you are and you get respect because you always have things under control. But I’m a screw up.”
“That’s because you don’t know the secret.” Joe flipped his cigarette down at Mr. Seuss who was dictating a letter to his secretary in the administrative hot tub. He kept sliding away from her as she kept sliding towards him to try and take his dictation in the steamy mist. “The secret is to simply not care.”
“You think I care? Do you? Look at me. I crash into people on purpose and get into fights all the time.” Bigger waved to Tim the security guard as he looked up at them and put up his hands up in a “what the hell?” gesture.
“Right. You do those things because you want to do a good job and you want to be noticed for it. It gets you flustered and stressed out until you explode, except for you, exploding is doing something stupid. Me, I keep both eyes on the clock and care about nothing but passing time and getting my smoke breaks in. I just happen to do my job. I am not worried about my team guider or Seuss or anyone else, so my head is clear to incidentally do my easy ass job.” Joe pulled a cigarette out of his pack with his lips and lit it. “Look at those administrators. They run this place like shit. They’re so worried about looking good and getting ahead, they screw everything up. This hospital functions because of people like me who don’t give a rat’s ass. We are the few, the proud, the apathetic.”
Bigger took a cigarette from Joe’s pack and lit it. “I bet you I can spit into the hot tub from here.”
“Do you understand me, Bigger?”
“Yeah,” he said, hesitating. He pinched the end of his cigarette and brought it to his mouth. “I think you have helped me with a more dangerous situation than just jumping off the roof. I was considering making a deal with Seuss. He said he would only make me a team guider if I got my mom to testify in court against the union.”
Joe took the cigarette from Bigger’s mouth and threw it off the building. “You told him no, right?”
Bigger took off his hat and crumpled it up with disgust. “No. But I will.”
“Bigger, nobody is happy with their life, but you were on the verge of making yours worse.”
“So give up my dreams?”
“Exactly. Look at me. I’m mildly contented with Susan. And how did I get here? I never acted on my dream to nail a nurse.”
Bigger took his crumpled hat and threw it off the roof. “Joe, everyone has their fantasies. That’s not the same as what I am going through.”
“No, it is. Listen. I really don’t care to do anything else but work in the kitchen, but I would still like to have a nice house, and a nice truck--oh and a hunting cabin. The only way I could get those things would be to hook up with someone like a nurse who would be able to buy me those things.” Joe pulled on his shirt and wiggled to get more comfortable. “And I’d be able to hang out with a higher class of people.”
“You’d miss me.”
“People that thought and talked about important things and not how cold it is in the walk-in freezer. You and I and Susan waste our days at our jobs.”
“Susan does waste her day. But we feed the sick. If we didn’t feed them, they would die of starvation.”
“I’d rather go to a restaurant without kitchen help than a hospital without doctors.”
Bigger paused and then nodded his head. “That’s why you are always hoping I get fired.”
“Sure. Now let’s go in. But would you please stop making problems for yourself when you seem like a good guy to those that know you?”
Bigger stood up. “Well, I can’t promise that.”
Chapter 44
Petty’s official announcement about the concessions he had made, the biggest announcement since the notification that the nuns would no longer be in the operating rooms, was tomorrow, but that was not why Jan was trembling with anticipation. It was ten-fifteen and everyone else had left the Knights of Columbus parking lot after the Annual Lion’s Banquet. Because he had not raced his little 1976 red MG to be first out of the parking lot, she could not think but that Seuss was going to finally make his move. The dome light gave off a romantic glow and did not show the fear in his eyes. Seuss was trembling as well. But that was because the announcement and the vote on the union was tomorrow.
“Look, honey,” Seuss said hitting his knee on the steering wheel. “I think we need to talk.” Seuss had squirmed on his folding chair throughout dinner and had not laughed at any of the speakers’ jokes. Someone had even done a David Letterman top ten list. He pulled his chewed thumbnail out of his mouth and unbuckled his seat belt. It knocked him in the chin as it recoiled.
“I have never seen you so excited,” she said reaching for his zipper. Immediately, she yanked her hand away when his knees clamped shut. Jan turned away and put the hand that had reached for his zipper on the door handle. “Why do you always do that?”
Seuss rubbed his chin. It was then that Jan began to cry.
There were two men inside Gregg Seuss. One was selfish, the other stupid. The selfish one was the one that usually took center stage while the stupid one milled around backstage with his hands in his pockets. He was eager to be given a task, but would screw it up when called to action. The stupid one leaned against a wall
and began whistling, pretending not to see Jan’s tears. The selfish man had his own, important problems.
“I got to tell you, honey,” Mr. Selfish began. “I’m worried about tomorrow. I don’t know what you may see me have to do. I have already broken the sacred bond between Godson and Godfather and I don’t think that dumbass is going to come through for me.
“What if Petty has no choice but to give you peons a voice in decisions? I mean a real say in how things get done. That will leave me with nothing and everything I have worked for will be gone. Anytime, I do something illegal, someone will be able to fill out a union grievance. My workers will speak and I will have to listen.” He looked down. “After tomorrow, the ones doing the work will get all the recognition and I’ll get nothing.”
“Everybody looks up to you,” Jan sobbed. “What are you worrying about? You are a successful man. You make at least sixty thousand a year, you have this car, me and some woman on the side.”
Seuss took his hand from his chin. “You are the only woman in my life.”
“No, come on. You must have some young thing on the side.”
“No. All I have is my job. Oh, and you.”
“A secret debilitating drug habit then?”
“Sometimes, I sneak a caffeinated coffee.”
“Secret life as CIA agent?”
He shrugged.
“Well then—well why don’t we ever—why don’t you ever-- how come we never screw?”
“I knew someday you might ask me that.” Mr. Selfish was letting Mr. Stupid do the talking for a while.
“We have been dating for ten years. You have a penis. I see the bulge in your Dockers on casual day. I want to know. How come I have never spent the night or an evening or fifteen minutes naked with you?”
Seuss shot her a look. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep pretending it’s not weird? I’ve already strung you along for ten years.”
The Tao of Apathy Page 14