Eventide - Kent Haruf [62]
DJ listened until his grandfather began telling the story of the Korean War veteran working on the railroad tracks one winter in the cold country south of Hardin Montana. DJ had already heard this one, and he went to work on the math papers he held in his lap. His grandfather’s story was altogether different from the one he’d just heard, and he wasn’t much interested in hearing about some vet chasing his foreman around with a shovel.
THE BARMAID CAME BACK AFTER A TIME AND BROUGHT another glass of whiskey to his grandfather, then left and came back with another round for the others. After the old men paid her, she leaned close to the boy and said softly: Why don’t you come up here with me?
Up where?
Up to the bar. That way you’ll have a place to work on your papers. You can write better up there.
Okay, he said. He stood up next to his grandfather. I’m going up to the bar, Grandpa.
Where?
To the bar. Where I can do my problems.
You behave yourself up there.
I will.
DJ followed her through the room past the men and women who were all talking and drinking, and at the bar she had him climb onto one of the high stools at the corner and he spread his math assignment out on the polished surface. She set his coffee cup and the corn chips beside him.
The bartender came over. Who’s this we got here?
My friend, she said.
He’s a little young to be drinking at a bar, don’t you think?
You leave him alone.
I’m not bothering him. Why would I bother him? I just don’t want him getting us into trouble.
He won’t get us into any trouble. Who’s going to complain?
They better not. But it’s your responsibility, if they do.
Don’t worry about it.
I ain’t going to worry. They don’t pay me enough to worry about shit like this. The bartender looked at her and moved away.
She smiled at DJ and went around behind the bar and brought a steaming glass coffeepot and refilled his cup. Don’t pay any attention to him, she said. He always has to talk.
I don’t want you to get in trouble.
This? she said. This isn’t trouble. I could tell you what trouble is. Don’t you want some sugar in your coffee?
No thank you.
No milk either?
No. I like it this way.
Well, I just expect you’re sweet enough. I have a boy myself, only a little younger than you, she said. He’s a sweet thing like you are. I’ll see him tomorrow. She stood across the bar, holding the coffeepot.
Doesn’t he live with you? he said.
He lives with his daddy. It was better that way. You know, until I got settled.
Oh.
But I sure do miss him.
DJ watched her face. She smiled at him.
But now what about you? Where’s your daddy and mama?
I don’t know who my dad is, he said. I never met him.
Didn’t you? What about your mother? Where’s she?
She died a long time ago.
Oh hell, she said. Listen to me. I’m sorry to hear that. Well, I’m sorry I ever said anything.
DJ looked past her into the backbar mirror, where he saw himself reflected above the ranks of bottles, and he saw her blonde head and the back of her white shirt in the mirror. He looked down and picked up his pencil.
You go on and do your schoolwork, she said. You just have to call if you need something. Will you be all right up here, do you think?
Yes, ma’am.
I’ll be right here if you need something.
Thank you.
You’re very welcome. She smiled. You know what? You and me could get to be good friends, do you think we could?
I guess so.
Well, that’s good enough. That’s being honest. She set the coffeepot on the hotplate and moved out from behind the bar again to work among the tables.
LATER A WOMAN WITH SHORT BROWN HAIR AND VERY blue eyes came to the end of the bar and stood beside DJ. Don’t I know you? she said. I’ve been watching you for half an hour.
I don’t know, he said.
Isn’t that your grandfather? Sitting over there with those other men?
Yes.
I took care of him at night. Don’t you remember? I saw you when you came in early before school one time. Before I went off duty.
Maybe so, he said.
Yes, I’m sure I did.
Then while she was standing beside him at the end of the bar, Raymond McPheron came