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

all speed limits—and stop signs—to the home, of her brother.

She was certain that Stanley would be at work. Well, it seemed to her, that he’d usually come home for lunch—at about this time. Most days, anyway. He worked for a vacuum cleaner repair outfit—that operated out of a store front, about a mile-and-a-half from his home. Surely, his wife, Wanda, would be at home. She was always home! It had always seemed, as though she never, ever, left.

Sure enough, there was her sister-in-law’s badly-rusted ’72 Mercury Monterey, in the driveway. Sheila parked the “hot” Buick about a half-block down, from the Piepczyk home—and (gimpily) walked back, to her destination.

Sheila had to knock but once. She didn’t’ even finish that basic paradiddle. The door flew open, and there stood Wanda—in her traditional (seemingly required) ratty-looking, bathrobe. Her visitor had abandoned—literally years before—the futile effort, of trying to encourage her sister-in-law, to drop a few (dozen) pounds. She’d even given up trying to embarrass the woman. Nothing had ever worked. And Sheila had known when she was licked.

On the other hand, Wanda had seemed to be always-happy (or, at least, more or less contented with her life.) And her husband seemed unbothered—by her weight. (Or her bathrobe.)

Why Stanley would ever come home—as many as two times a day—to this, was beyond his sister, however. She’d always believed that her brother would be better off eating, at the stupid diner. The one—at which her son had toiled. Till recently! (The fact that he might’ve left her son a, hopefully-generous, tip—had always played a part, in that heartwarming scenario.)

“Sheila!” Wanda seemed glad to see her. But, with Wanda, one never really knew. “Come in this house,” she half-shouted. “How the hell are ya?”

“Fine. Look, Wanda. I wonder if… ! Well, things haven’t been easy for me… especially, since Jason’s been gone, y’know… and I was just wondering if…”

“Jeez, Sheila! You still haven’t heard from him? Where could he be? I mean a… a kid . . . a kid like that . . . I mean, where could he, for heaven’s sake, be? Where could he have gone off to?”

“Hell… I don’t know.” Sheila wished that she’d not made her answer sound quite so whiny. “I really don’t know!” She was trying to moderate her voice—send it, into a lower register. “God only knows! All I know . . . is that it’s been a week! A whole damn week! And it’s been… believe me… a God-awful week! But, that’s the last time… the last time, I ever laid eyes, on him! God only knows where he is! Where he could be! Haven’t heard a word, from him! Not a damn word!”

“Have a sit-down! Can I get you a cup of coffee… or something?”

“No. No thanks. Look, Wanda! I’m practically without any money! You know how things are… when I’ve just only got that piddley little Social Security thing coming in! I was… uh… wondering, if you could… uh… if you could maybe… maybe see your way clear to lending me… uh… well, something like, maybe, fifty dollars?”

“Jeez, Sheila! I don’t have anything like that much. Not around here! I never have anywhere near that much, in the house. If you wanna wait a few minutes, Stosh ought to be home in… well in, maybe, ten or fifteen minutes. I don’t know how much he might have, on him. But, if you just wanna wait . . .”

“I dunno. Stanley’s never been really… what you’d call… overly supportive, y’know!”

“Well, hell. You know what he thinks… about all the things that went on. With your accident, and all. He thinks… well, he thought anyway… he’s always thought, that Doctor Keltner was a total quack! Not only a quack . . . but, on the take! Always on the take! Oh hell, Sheila. I don’t have to tell you . . . what Stosh thought! What he thinks! He was always of the opinion that…”

“Yeah. He’s always been pretty direct . . . about what he always thought! Listen, Wanda! I didn’t let Doctor Keltner… let him get, in my pants! I’m telling you! I did not! God, Wanda! I hurt! I hurt then . . . and, goddammit, I hurt now! Still hurt! Really hurt! Big time!”

“I know, Sheila.” Her hostess’ voice was soft—and sympathetic. “I believe you! I don’t know why Stosh has got this wild hair, up his…”

“Yeah,” grumped her visitor. “Well, he’s not… he’s not… not the only one, y’know! And… shit! I’m trying, Wanda! I really am! You know I am! And… and now? Now… without what little money, that I was getting, from Jason . . . now, I’m really up against it!”

“Well, as I understand it, it wasn’t all that little… that Jason was giving you! Practically his whole paycheck . . . his entire paycheck… as I understand it!”

“Yeah? Well, not all! Not nearly all, y’know! But, I guess, it was a… a fair piece of it! Still, it wasn’t all . . . not all that much! Dammit, if he’d gone back to school . . . like I damn well wanted him to do… he’d have been able to get a lot better job! A helluva lot better job! But, you know, he just would not get…”

“Oh, Sheila, I really think that Jason… was doing the best he could! And, you know…”

At that instant, the side door opened—and Stanley Piepczyk clomped in! He hurried up the stairs, through the kitchen, and dinette. And then, he stopped cold! When he saw his sister—standing just inside the front door!

“Sheel! What the hell are you doing here? How’d you get here?”

“I… uh… took a cab. Look, Stan! Listen. I need a few bucks! Till my Social Security check… till my check . . . till it gets here! Could you front me… say… uh… say… fifty bucks?”

“Fifty bucks? Fifty bucks? For what? Fifty bucks should feed you… for a couple weeks! And… listen . . . Jason’s only been gone, for a week. Of course, I guess that, all that beer . . . and those many cigarettes . . . I guess they are pretty expensive, these days! On the other hand, if you can go schlepping around, in a damn taxi . . .”

“C’mon, Stan! You know . . . that I’m