American Boy - Larry Watson [47]
Phil asked me, “Did ya get Norbert tucked in?”
“He’s down for the count.”
He cocked his eyebrows. “How about the Missus? Get her tucked in, too?”
“She’s still out and about.”
“I bet she is. On the prowl is more like it. Hey, you want something to drink, Matt? A beer? A soda?” With a sweep of his arm he took in the array of bottles behind him, indicating that I could order anything I liked. “Something stronger?”
I looked at my mother, and she shrugged. I pointed to her glass. “Can I have one of those?”
“Like mother, like son,” said Phil. “Coming right up.”
I sat down on the stool next to my mother. She was leaning her head on her hand, looking tired enough to fall asleep at the bar. “So,” my mother said, “you’ve done your good deed for the day.”
Her pack of Pall Malls was on the bar. I took one and lit it. “Mrs. Knurr said if I have any interest in being a lawyer I should look up Mr. Knurr and he’ll be glad to give me some advice.”
“I thought you were headed toward the medical profession.”
“Just trying to keep all the possibilities open.”
“Well, lawyering pays well, too. Not as good as a doctor, but then lawyers don’t have to put their hands right into the body’s muck.”
Phil put my drink down on the bar. “No fruit in yours, Matt. That’s all put away, and I’m not about to get it out just to make your drink look pretty.”
My mother reached into her glass and grabbed the stem of the cherry. “Don’t ever say I didn’t make any sacrifices for you,” she said, dropping the cherry into my glass. She was joking, but her tone allowed her to convey a truth she needed her son to know. I thanked her and took a swallow of the drink, which was sweet and bracing.
“You sure you don’t want to work tomorrow night?” Phil asked. “It’s supposed to be cold, and for some reason the cold brings out the customers.”
“It’s a Minnesotan’s idea of a big adventure,” my mother said, as if she hadn’t lived in the state all her life.
“Sorry,” I replied. “I’ve got a date.”
“You sure? Tony went home sick tonight, so he probably won’t be in. I’ll pay you what I would’ve paid the both of you. In cash.”
“Nope. Can’t do it.”
“Okay, Matt,” said Phil, “I hope the cold’s good for your business, too.” He roared with laughter and slapped the bar.
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it was next to impossible not to laugh along with Phil Palmer.
Then, quite abruptly, my laughter stopped. Somehow I felt as if I were being wooed. Sit down, Matt. Want a drink? Relax. Have a smoke. Join us.
I finished my drink and crushed out my cigarette. “I’ll go out and warm up the car,” I said, heading for the door.
13.
WE WERE ALL STANDING in the Dunbars’ kitchen, the doctor and his wife, Louisa, Johnny, and I. I was wearing loafers I had polished that afternoon. My gray flannel trousers were freshly pressed, and under the navy blue V-neck sweater was a white shirt and tie usually reserved for Sunday mornings. Louisa looked me over from head to toe and smiled.
“Where are you going again?” asked Mrs. Dunbar.
“To the show,” replied Johnny, “and then over to the Johnsons’ to watch Shockerama.” Johnny’s lie was excellent. There were three Johnsons in our class, and we had already seen the Wolfman movie that would be shown that night.
Johnny was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and Louisa was in her usual outfit—the cotton print dress and oversize cardigan. They were both dressed for an evening that wasn’t supposed to be anything special, but I couldn’t help myself. Practicing a deception twice, as I had the previous evening with Mrs. Knurr and then with Phil Palmer and my mother, must have been sufficient for me to convince myself that I had a date with my girlfriend tonight.
Louisa needed no more than a single look at what I was wearing to know what my ambitions were. Then Dr. Dunbar, who must have been keeping a close watch on Louisa, noticed as well. He pinched his own shirt collar to call attention to my tie. “And you, Matt? Are you heading straight to church after?”
Johnny knew me well enough to realize