“You need money? I’m quite shocked by you saying that, Henry. I know enough about the Wolff family to know that you are financially secure. I can’t remember the Wolff family without money.”
Dixie interrupted them temporarily and asked, “Is there tax on this?” Dixie waved a bottle of Beano.
“No,” Henry said with authority. “There is no tax on that stuff.”
Asa leaned back and eyed Henry and Dixie. He knew what they were up to.
“It’s a long story, Asa. I’m a good worker. I’ve changed since … I mean, I’m a much more mature person than I was a few years ago. I can do whatever you tell me to do.”
“Henry, I don’t know …”
Dixie popped her head into view again and said, “There’s two prices marked on this. How much?”
“It’s the lower price,” Henry said.
“Henry! I know what you two are up to. Please. Stop.”
A customer came up and banged on the bell. Mr. Kruchuk stomped out of the back room and tended to her.
“So, you want a job, huh?” Asa said even though he already decided to hire Henry.
Mr. Kruchuk made an unusually loud noise flipping a page from the signature book. Asa looked at him, then at Henry.
“Mr. Adler, I know every item in this store. Women’s makeup is in aisle one. The vitamins are in aisle three like I said to that lady before. Next to them are the foot products, like Compound W and Epsom Salts are mid-way down in aisle two …”
“Okay, Henry. Okay. I believe you.” He thought for a beat. “I’ll give you the job under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You can stop calling me by my last name. It’s Asa, Henry.”
“Okay. It’s a deal, Asa Henry. I’ll call you Asa Henry from now on.”
Asa didn’t know what to say to Henry. If this was an attempt at humor, this may be a very painful experiment, he thought.
Henry laughed. “I’m just joking, Asa.”
Asa chuckled and nodded. “That was funny,” he said. “You got me. Alright, be here tomorrow. Eight-thirty sharp.”
“Thank you … Asa. Thank you.”
As Henry left, Asa wondered if he made the right decision. At the very least, Asa knew he was going to catch some flak from Mr. Kruchuk. His exaggerated moves and impromptu sighs were a tell-tale sign that he was upset. After Mr. Kruchuk finished tending the customer, he turned to Asa and said, “Why did you do that? He’s a retard.”
“I’ve known him all my life, Pete. And, believe me, he’s not a retard. He has that Post Traumatic Stress syndrome. He’s pretty much in control now. He won’t be a problem.”
Asa and Pete watched Henry and Dixie through the front window giving each other the ‘high five’ before disappearing from his view. “Henry Wolff is a little slow, perhaps,” Asa said. “That’s all.” Asa went back to filling prescriptions. A few beats passed, then he put the prescription down. “I know the whole family, Pete. I grew up with their daughters. Been over to his house for dinner. I like him and I like his family. Okay? I hired him, and that’s that.”
Pete Kruchuk grumbled and stomped back into the office. Asa continued filling prescriptions, but his mind was on the Wolff family. He remembered how people used to talk about Henry’s bizarre behavior while he went high school. He heard about the farting incident with the Flanagan twins. Henry’s behavior was full of surprises, an embarrassment for Robin and Sharon, and he remembered feeling a lot of compassion for the Wolff sisters back then. But that was a long time ago. It was hard not to lend an ear to a recent Henry sighting, because there was always one, but they seemed too tamer now. He was convinced Henry had changed for the better. Yes, Henry could be considered more responsible now. Still, a chill ran through him momentarily. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake.
Chapter 11
HARLES PETZINGER SCRUBBED a baking pan crusted with chicken skin from dinner the night before. Tall, empty, sentinel-like bottles of Chivas Regal whiskey and burgundy wine presided at the corners of the sink. Behind the wine bottle were an Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlet and a list of AA meeting sites.
Petzinger scrubbed a Teflon pan with broad strokes in the same direction over and over again, more like it was a workout than a kitchen chore. The pan, already scraped down to its bare metal, was ready to be rinsed, but he continued to scrub while staring at the bottles. He thought hard about where his next drink would come from.
Danny came into the kitchen, opened the pantry door and took out a box of cereal. Petzinger opened a cabinet door, retrieved a cereal bowl and handed it to Danny.
“I’m staying after school today,” Danny said.
“What for?” his father retorted, perceiving an attitude from his son.
“Because.”
The veins in Charles’ neck bulged. His bloodshot eyes watered. He wiped his dry mouth. A guttural noise resonated in his chest. He wanted to say something, but stopped. He tried again.
“That’s … not … an acceptable … answer,” he finally said in four distinct stages, trying hard to control his temper.
“I’m just staying after school.” Danny poured some cereal into the bowl and began eating. Petzinger opened the refrigerator door, retrieved the milk, and put it on the table, but Danny continued to eat the cereal dry.
“Eat the cereal with milk!” Petzinger said.
“I don’t want to.”
Petzinger’s jaw tightened. “Why do you always have to contradict everything I say?” he said through a clenched mouth.
“I don’t contradict everything you say!” Danny bellowed loud enough that the neighbors could hear.
With a sweep of his hand, Petzinger knocked the bowl of cereal off the table. Danny mumbled curses as he picked up his books and headed for the door.
Petzinger jumped in front of the doorway trapping Danny in the kitchen. “Why are you staying after school?” Petzinger yelled. He raised his arm across his chest showing Danny the back of his hand. Petzinger breathed heavy. Beads of perspiration spread across his face like painted dots. A fiery tear jutted out from his eye and joined forces with the droplets of sweat. His face and eyes showed signs of great distress, like a prisoner who hadn’t slept in days.
He slowly brought his hand down and moved away from the doorway. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Danny left the kitchen as if nothing had happened and Petzinger drifted to the counter and slouched over the kitchen sink; his hands were shaking.
“I’m going to try out for the school play,” he heard Danny’s voice from the living room. The front door slammed.
Petzinger rushed to the refrigerator and took out a half-filled bottle of dry sherry, the last of the wine. He grabbed a tall glass from the sink and poured the wine into it until the last drop fell from the wine bottle. His hands shook so much that he lost his grip of the glass and it shattered in the sink. The wine streamed towards the drain hole, and in a desperate attempt to save the last of the domestic tipple, Charles fumbled for the plunger to jam the drain. He swept the jagged edges of the broken glass away in an attempt to save the wine. Realizing his hooch was gone, unsalvageable, he scooped up the plunger and threw it against the wall.
The palm of his hand was dripping with blood. He washed it under the sink, and then applied pressure to the cut to stop it from bleeding. He stared at his hands, which quivered uncontrollably. He took short, quick breaths to help ease the tension on his back and shoulders and chest. That provided relief as his breathing slowed and his eyes drifted and became fixed on the AA pamphlets.
* * *
HENRY WATCHED Danny from the bedroom window walking down the side of the house to the bus stop. “Wasn’t too bad today, Danny,” Henry said. “You’ve definitely had worse days.”
Henry retrieved a tie from the closet and stood in front of the mirror. He pulled up the collar to his button-down, blue dress shirt, and he began tying a knot. The thin end of the tie was much longer than the wider end on his first try. He w
as not used to doing this himself. He untied it and tried again, and again.
And again until, at last, he found success.
* * *
ASA SAW Henry through the window looking in. It was eight-twenty and Henry was early. The store was locked so Asa came to the door and let him in.
“I’m a little earlier than you expected,” Henry said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Certainly, Henry. Come in.”
Henry took off his jacket and proudly sported his shirt and tie. He straightened his back and turned his body sideways, like a model flirting with the eye of a camera.
“You look like you’re ready for work,” Asa said.
“I am,” Henry emphatically proclaimed.
“Good. Good.” They both walked up aisle four. Asa pointed to a section where the products were sparsely stacked. “I want you to fill up some of these empty spaces. Make sure we have enough products on the shelf. You can find the inventory in the back. Okay?”
“Certainly. I understand. Empty spaces make you look like you’re going out of business. That’s not good.”
“Yes, that’s not good,” Asa said with a sigh of relief that Henry had somewhat of an understanding of the task at hand. “But I haven’t got the slightest idea where anything is out back,” Asa admitted. “I’m afraid I’m a little disorganized that way. You’ll have to find the items yourself.”
“You want me to tell you if you don’t have the products out back to fill the shelves?” Henry asked.
“Yes. Yes. Please. That’s good, Henry. Make me a note of the products I need to order.”
“Okay. I’m off to see the wizard.” Henry marched off to begin his first day of work.
Asa watched Henry disappear into the back room. As much as he liked Henry, he wondered whether he had done the right thing hiring him. He remembered Henry during his grammar school years, and how odd it seemed that a grown man would play hop scotch with his daughters, or how different the Wolff family seemed to be, especially when Robin’s mother scolded Henry for keeping his daughters out past dark. All of Henry’s antics seemed so weird to Asa back then. Now he seemed a little different. Henry has changed somewhat. A bit more mature, perhaps.
Henry was the reason he became friends with Robin, when Robin confided in him about the problems the war caused Henry, and about her brother’s sudden death, and how all that affected her father’s brain somehow. Asa started to reminisce about Robin. She had been a good friend during the school years, he felt, although they hadn’t kept in touch recently, except for that one time they had lunch together. Neither of them had married and she seemed to have put her professional life over her personal life, like he had. While growing up, he felt something special for Robin, there’s no doubting that. She was everybody’s tomboy-friend who loved to play ball with the guys. She had more agility than most of the boys in grammar school and was one of the smartest kids in the class to boot. Asa began looking at her differently when she turned twelve, and it wasn’t just because she was one of the first girls who developed breasts, either. It was more because she had a dichotomy to her personality that no other girl had. He recalled how in little league she would pound her glove at shortstop and would yell at the batter, “Watch out batter. Pitcher lost his control,” which was very distracting to the hitter at times, and to him as well. Not exactly the banter you’d expect from a shortstop.
Asa remembered one time when Bobby Robinson came up to the plate. He was the best hitter in the league. Robin called time out, and came over to the mound and asked him why he was staring down at home plate watching the catcher wiggle his fingers by his crotch sending secret messages on how to throw the ball. Asa laughed. “Throw him a high sinker. He’s a sucker for those.” And sure enough, he struck Robinson out with high sinkers. Then Asa looked over to Robin and caught her smiling at him. “Good job, Sweetie.” This sent chills down his spine. Yes, he found it very hard to concentrate on his pitching duties when all he could think about was taking Robin behind the stands and kissing her.
Then high school came along and Robin would watch the game in the stands. He remembered the urge to show off with a big wind-up and then pitch his signature fastball which was clocked at 89 miles per hour. He felt proud now for leading the league in high school to the District Championship with an Earned Run Average of 1.12. He became a very good pitcher in high school, he remembered. One of the best. But then he wouldn’t have Robin to distract him at shortstop and he could concentrate on perfecting his knuckleball, which was the main reason he won that scholarship to East Stroudsburg College.
He liked Robin a whole lot back then. They became best friends, mostly because they shared the love of baseball. What happened to their closeness? He couldn’t remember any particular moment when they lost it. Sometime during high school Robin lost interest in baseball. Academic pursuits took up most of her time. She was very selective whom she went out with, yet Asa couldn’t remember her ever having a steady boyfriend. He always regretted never making an overture for her during high school. Now he wondered what might’ve happened if he ever tried. He remembered his first kiss with her behind the bleachers. Oh, God! He got nervous just thinking about it. Whatever happened to them, he wondered. It was like their relationship just faded away … like two old friends on separate rafts drifting away by life’s currents.
He shook his head at himself. Maybe something was the matter with him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling comfortable with women, and he felt timid in front of the opposite sex, especially Robin. Tongue-tied was the usual symptom if he liked someone. He could never get past that to develop a relationship. Asa lived alone, and dedicated all his time to his business.
There’s nothing wrong with you, he told himself as he surveyed the prescriptions at the ‘IN’ bin. He picked one up and began filling it. But the thoughts lingered. Asa wondered if he had made the right decisions in his life. Ever since going out to lunch with her he has doubted his logic about marriage. He had believed most marriages ended up in divorce so he was doing just fine putting his priorities where they were. He would continue to wait until he found the right person to whom he would say the all-important “I do”. He was fine with this attitude and didn’t care that he was single. Why was he having doubts now, he wondered? Maybe his mid-life crisis was paying him a visit early.
Asa finished the prescription, flung it in the ‘FILLED’ bin and picked up another prescription to work on. There were rumbling feelings inside him right now - a little anxious moment. He thought about what he ate for breakfast, how much sleep he got - that sort of thing - and he chuckled at himself. At age thirty-two, his self-esteem was measure by what he ate and how much sleep he got. Maybe it was the extra cup of coffee that was making him feel so anxious this morning.
As the day rolled on, Asa noticed Henry was a hard worker and sensed he had a keen memory as well. He knew almost every item in the store and where it belonged and this was only his first day. Henry also showed a little savvy with the customers. Asa watched him tell the patrons where they could find products - in which aisle, and how far down, and whether the item was on the upper or lower shelves. There had to be more to Henry than meets the eye, Asa felt. Stocking shelves was beneath his abilities.
Then, quite unexpectedly, in late afternoon, Asa saw Robin from the window. She parked her car right in front of his business property, and she didn’t look too happy as she opened the door quite abruptly and marched right into the pharmacy liked she owned the place. That was how Asa always remembered her. Very deliberate and confident about herself.
All of sudden Asa’s mouth went dry. He needed a drink of water. His heart pounded harder all of a sudden. Even after his morning jogs, his heart hadn’t thumped with this vitality. Then, quite suddenly, Asa felt a little faint, like his heart had stopped. He buried his head in the act of filling a prescription at the counter, then looked up and saw Robin gawking directly at him. He nodded. Smiled - or tried to. He felt a weird muscle spasm at the corne
r of his mouth.
Robin didn’t smile at all, and kept leering at him. “Asa, I need to talk to you,” she quipped.
Hi, Robin, was what he wanted to say. “Hummuna … Hummuna,” was all that came out of his mouth.
“What are you doing giving a job to my father?”
“I … I …”
“You should’ve called me first.”
She searched the store, eyeing each aisle. Finally, she located Henry down aisle two. She threw her finger at Asa as if it were a dart. “You should’ve called me,” she said.
* * *
ROBIN STORMED down aisle two to confront her father.
“Dad! What are you doing?”
“I’m working,” Henry said with a tone of pride as he positioned a product neatly in its proper place.
“I can see that. But why?”
“I need the money. It’s Christmas time. I need to buy you and Sharon presents.”
Robin gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to scold her father, although she was using an enormous amount of energy trying to control her temper. “I thought we agreed having twenty dollars a day was adequate and if you needed more money I was going to lend it to you. After this court thing is over you’ll have access to your money and everything will be fine.”
“I didn’t want to burden you,” Henry said. He continued to shuffle the products around on the shelf.
“Dad, you know how you get sometimes. This is a place of business. What are you going to do if …?”
“I know how to act in a place of business.”
“Oh, yeah. Since when? You don’t remember the last time you got a job? At Wal-Mart? You worked a whole two weeks before you got fired? Remember why? In case you forgot, let me tell you. You kept on paging people on the intercom because you thought it was funny. You paged ‘the woman in the red dress and the fat butt’. You paged the security guard, for crying out loud.”
“Well, things have changed.”
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
South of Main Street Page 19