Locomotive to the Past, George Schultz [snow like ashes series txt] 📗

seemed to have indicated. She’d just crawled out of bed—less than two minutes, after he’d plopped himself down, on the seen-better-days couch.

“You can’t afford to be late, y’know,” she’d continued. “I think you’re on thin ice… over there anyway. I know your manager, y’know. What’s his name? Manny? He told me that. Said you were on thin ice. I really think you’d better drag your lazy ass… on out to work.”

The young man was aware of the fact that she knew more than, simply, Manny’s name! Substantially more! And Manny had known his mother—exceptionally well! Exceptionally well—and thoroughly!

Rather than seating herself, his mother stood—hands on hips—lurking, in front of him! Looming, above him.

“In a minute, Mother,” he muttered. “This looks like… like something that’s going to…”

“Minute… schminute! So? So a stupid-assed plane? It flew into one of those goddam buildings! So what? They build ’em too damn high, now, anyway… them buildings! And they’re all glass, for God’s sakes! Of course a plane was gonna fly into one of those silly-assed glass buildings! Sooner or later! If they’d only make the damn things out of cement, or concrete, or mortar . . . or whatever… they’d probably be better able to…”

“I think… I really believe… that they’re a good bit more substantial than that, Mother. They’re not made up of just simply glass. Not solely of glass. There’s a whole lot of other stuff… much steel in them, for instance… that they…”

“Yeah, right! And, of course, you would know! You are… of course… some kind of a big-assed structural engineer! Or is it… that you work, in a goddam, pissy-assed, coffee shop? Could that be?”

“I just… this can’t be… it’s a God-awful, terrible, tragedy, Mother! Look! Just look . . . where that thing hit! That plane went in maybe twenty… maybe twenty-five, or thirty… stories down! Down… from the top! That’s a hundred-story building! At least! Look at that!”

“So it hit! Big goddam deal!”

“How are those people . . . those poor people? How are they… those people, up there… above, where it hit? How are they ever going to get down? How’ll they ever get out? How are they ever going to escape? Survive? How can they ever . . . ever going to get out of there? Get out… alive? What’s going to… to happen to them? My God, Mother! They’re having to… to… to jump! My God!”

“My God… what? Big goddam deal! Why should I give a shit?”

“Oh! Oh… those poor people! Those poor… poor people! I guess a lot of them… so many of them… they’re going to have to… going to have to jump! They’re jumping now! Oh, my God! Look! They’re jumping now! Dear Lord! Jumping! Jumping . . . for God’s sake! Jumping… all that way down! Down… to the street! To the cement, for God’s sakes! That plane! That plane . . . it’s taken out… taken out, God knows how many…”

“Oh, I’m sure that they’ve got plans, y’know! Plans… for those kinds of things. They’ll get the cops! Or, maybe, the firemen! Or, probably, they’ve got some special detail right there… right there, in the damn building! And they’ll just go up… and get ’em the hell out. Those idiots . . . those assholes . . . who’re jumping! They should wait! Wait a few minutes! Wait… for help, to arrive! Assholes!”

“Mother! They can’t . . .”

“Right now, it’s best that you get yourself out! Out to work! Best that you get your ass… right on out! Out… to work! I mean fucking now!”

“No! Well, in a minute, Mother. This . . . right here… this is more important! More critical… than that stupid old coffee shop! Much more serious! Look at that! Just look! I can’t see how . . .”

“More serious? Are you kiddin’? What . . . are you shittin’ me? What’re you talkin’ about? It’s in New York, for crissake… where that happened! Hundreds of goddam miles from here! There’s nothin’ you can do! Absolutely nothing! Just sittin’ here on your dead ass . . . here, in Dearborn, Michigan . . . that ain’t gonna help! Ain’t gonna help any of those people! Nothin’ that you can do… is gonna help ’em! Help any of ’em! Absolutely nothin! Ain’t nothin’ gonna help the poor bastards! Nothin’!”

“Mother, it’s not…”

“Except to go ahead… and lose your damn-fool, pissy-assed, job! And the damn-fool, pissy-assed, paycheck . . . that goes along with it. Oh, that’ll be a big help… to all of them! Listen, Jason. I’m not well, y’know. You know full well, that I need that money… for me to…”

“I know you do, Mother! I know . . . what you get from Social Security! I know that it’s not a helluva lot! I know that you’ve got bills! But, Mother, I do . . . do my fair share! I really do!”

“You call that your fair share? Your pissy-assed little check? That silly-assed, teeny-tiny, little, check? That piss-poor, stupid, damn, little, check? That check? It ain’t enough… to really even barely keep me afloat! Keep us afloat! Plus… it’s not like you give me all of it, anyway!”

“I give you everything, Mother! Everything… but, the twenty bucks, that you might give me back! Sometimes, it’s only ten… or fifteen! It’s the best I can do, Mother. The best I can do.”

“Hah! If you’d have gone to school . . . accounting school, like I wanted you to… you’d have made something, of your-damn-self. Your paycheck? It would be different! Damn different! Really damn different! And, listen! It would’ve been such a…”

“Look, Mother. I don’t want to go… start opening this whole can of worms! Not again. But… speaking of cans . . . maybe things wouldn’t be quite so grim! Not so critical . . . if you’d get up off of your can! Get up and get out . . . and do something radical! Like maybe getting a job!”

He was shocked at his own response! Seldom had he ever—ever—“lipped back”, to his mother! The fact that his “go along/get along”, rather-docile, demeanor had “deserted” him, on this particular occasion, was a real surprise! A substantial surprise! A monumental surprise!

His mother stroked at her bosom—as though she was experiencing a heart attack! She appeared ready to collapse! She’d had the routine absolutely perfected, by then!

“What the hell