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

me. There’s just something… something special… about him. Something that I really can’t put my finger on. Look! If it doesn’t work out… in, say, a week… we’ll just simply hand him his walking papers. That’s all. I just… Eric… this young man, he… he needs… I don’t know what he needs. But, he needs something. I’ve never seen such a kid! Never seen anyone… or anything . . . like this! Like this… this kid!”

“Yeah,” grunted her husband. “Well, there’s one thing… that he doesn’t need to be! He doesn’t need to be… to be raping my wife! No thank you!”

That response shocked Jason! Down to his toenails! According to Grandpa Piepczyk, this was supposed to be a more loving, caring, kinder-gentler, culture! A more genteel—a more chivalrous, more trusting—era. People were supposed—to be more charitable, in this glorious epoch! Considerably more trusting! Rape, back then (well, right now) was—as their visitor had always understood it—simply not a front-burner issue! Not then! Not with anyone! A subject—never to be actually spoken about! Under any circumstances! Most especially—in mixed-company! Our Boy wondered whether that would’ve included husband-and-wife!

“Oh, Eric,” responded his wife. “He’d never touch me. I know that.”

“C’mon, Susie! How do you know that? How could you know that? How could anyone . . . ever… know that? Possibly know that? Be so damn sure, that… ?”

“I don’t know, Eric! I really don’t know… how I know it! But, I know it! You’d have to see this boy… to know what I’m talking about. Look, Eric! In all the twenty-four-going-on-twenty-five years… that we’ve been married . . . I’ve never really asked you, for all that much. I’ve always deferred to you, as head of the house… as Father Benjamin had told me I always must! That long ago. Dear Lord! That was the night… before we got married!”

Recalling that truly-accurate fact, had seemed to completely fluster the woman. But, she managed to rally—quickly—and to continue:

“Now… for some obscure reason, or another… I’m asking. I’m asking you to do this, for me! Do this… for me? Just this once? Please . . . just this one time, Eric… please indulge me! Please . . . let’s take this boy in! I think that you might even be able to use him! On the job! You keep saying… about how you can’t get anyone reliable anymore. Can’t get any reliable men. And, of course, it’s too… too physically demanding… for a woman. Well, this boy is…”

“Yeah? Well, to hear you talk, he’s as fragile . . . as a hamster, or a bunny rabbit! Or a China doll, or something! I guess I could use a hod-carrier! Hell, I know I can use another hod-carrier! But… dammit, Susie… those bricks are heavy! Damn heavy! What makes you think that this tender… this delicate, this frail, young man… that he could ever cut the mustard?” (That was an expression—that Jason had never heard.)

“Oh, he’s not that fragile. Probably not fragile at all. I don’t know, Eric. I really don’t know! He’s unlike… any young fellow, I’ve ever met. He’s just… just… oh, I don’t know! Listen, if he doesn’t work out… there, or here . . . we’ll just give him his walking papers. But, Eric… listen! We’ve got to give this boy… got to give him a chance! Don’t ask me to give you a good reason, why we should do this… do any of this… for him. Because I can’t give you one. Can’t even give you a semi-close-to-good one!”

“Look, Susie…”

“Maybe it’s my maternal instinct, coming into play,” she interrupted. “That hasn’t been an issue… not, in years . . . y’know. Not since Jeff left! I really don’t know why I want to give this young man… this kid… a hand! But, I do want you to let him come! Come into our house! I really need . . . to see to it! See to it… that he’s got something, something good . . . going for him! Eric, I really do!”

“All right,” answered Eric—sighing mightily. “Let’s go in… and look this new pet of yours over. He may need a distemper shot, y’know. Or a damn dog biscuit!”

Jason made a break for “his” chair—as Susan laughed, heartily! He was hoping—fervently—that he’d not been heard.

He landed, in his assigned billet—just prior to hearing Susan say. “Not until you get out of those muddy shoes!”

Eric Atkinson’s demeanor—toward his new boarder—bordered between forced tolerance, and out and out hostility!

Jason had, successfully, “made it”—back into “his” chair—when Susan, and her husband, finally entered the living room. Their guest could not believe how muddy Eric had gotten—on his construction site. He’d worn a dark blue business suit. And, while not absolutely caked—with dried mud, from top to bottom—the frock bore massive splotches, of the stuff.

Apparently, the routine was as follows: He would wear a suit, for two days. No matter how gorpy it would’ve gotten, by the time, he’d completed the second wearing. Then, he would change to another one. He’d possessed five suits—and had always depended, heavily, upon his wife to keep the “stock rotating”, from dry cleaners-to-closet-to-body. She, seemed to be most efficient, at this, time-tested, routine. Well, she seemed highly-efficient—at anything she would ever attempt!

Eric’s handshake was firm—but, not overpowering. Jason had worried that his new host would do his best to pulverize every bone in his new roomer’s right hand!

Upon being officially (if unenthusiastically) notified, by his new landlord, of the good news, Our Hero had given Susan the five one-dollar bills, in his scruffy wallet—then, had snarfed up two quarters, three dimes, three nickels, and five pennies, from his left pants-pocket. He was surprised to discover that he’d still had more than a few quarters—and five dimes—left! There were even eight nickels—and twelve pennies—to go, with those “loftier” coins. He’d not thought that there’d been anywhere near—that much change, in the slacks. Not even close!

What a day it had been! And it still was not over!

Back to business: Six entire, bona fide, dollars! His first week’s rental—in what he’d hoped would be almost a Shangri la. Almost? Well, he was positive that it could