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

a good deal younger. Infinitely less “mature”. If that was possible! Whatever the circumstances, the very thought, of the young man being successful—in any undertaking—was not considered to be even a remote possibility! Had never been entertained—by anyone—seriously! Least of all, by the lad, with the fast-cooling ribs!

Despite all these previous thoughts—and, probably, all the “ill-conceived” aspirations (or dearth of them)—Valerie’s diatribe seemed to, actually, be making some little bit of sense! At least, it was stirring something inside Jason! He was experiencing thoughts! And, high-strung, emotions! All of them, images that he’d never known before! Not even close! Can you imagine?

“Look.” his date implored. “I don’t know how familiar you might be… with the local stations. WJR is the CBS outlet… and WWJ is NBC. They both do nothing… but broadcast stupid ‘sob serials’. Broadcast them… all day long. The ABC outlet is WXYZ. I’m not sure what they do… in the morning. But, for two or three hours, in the afternoon… Eddie Chase has a show called Make Believe Ballroom. He’s what, I think, they’re now calling a disc jockey. He’s pretty popular. But, there are other stations. A couple of ’em, I think, broadcast… exclusively… in polish! Large Polish population here, don’tcha know. So, you wouldn’t want to waste your time applying there. Unless you speak fluent Polish. Do you have a radio?”

“No, But, the people… in whose house I live… they have one.”

“Well get yourself a radio! You can get these little… what they call… table models. I doubt that they cost a lot. Certainly not as much, as a floor model. Do some kind of research. See which stations are broadcasting what. WEXL and WJBK and WKMH and WXXD . . . they might be good stations, to listen to. Get a feel… for what they’re doing. Then, go apply! I’m sure that the people you live with… one of whom happens to be your boss… won’t mind your missing one day’s work. Especially… if they’re even mildly interested, in your wellbeing! If they want to see you… see you better yourself. On the other hand, if they’re not all that interested in…”

“Oh, I’m sure that I could get ’em to go along… for one day, anyway.”

“Plan the thing out. Plan it… from the start. Find out where these stations are. The ones you choose. Find out where they’re located. Figure out the bus routes. How to get to each one. Dress up! Deck yourself out… in your ‘Sunday Best’! And go ahead… and take the shot! What have you got to lose? Except for a day’s pay?”

He was enthused! Then taken slightly aback!

“But,” he responded, “what if that happens to be a day… a day, in a week, when we’d wind up, working on a Saturday? If you’ve worked your forty hours… that means that Saturday’s paid, at time-and-a-half! And we don’t usually get notified of that… not till Friday afternoon.”

“Dammit, Jason!” Again, she was surprised—at the impatience, in her voice. She softened the tone—significantly. “That’s just the chance . . . you’ll have to take! If you wait for everything . . . everything, on earth, to be just letter perfect . . . you’ll simply wither away! Die… on the damn vine! The turtle . . . he doesn’t get anywhere! Not unless he sticks his neck out!”

The “everything letter perfect” comment—reminded him, of a few similar snarly utterances from his grandfather. The “turtle” reference—he’d not heard before.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “It’s just that… I mean, I’ve always been . . .”

“Jason? Jason, I don’t mean to come across… as some kind of preacher! God knows, I’m not usually as… you’ll excuse the expression… as bitchy, as I seem. Not like I’m coming off, here!”

It jarred her date—slightly—that this fabulous young woman would deign to excuse herself, for using the relatively mild (at least, in 2001-speak) word “bitchy”. Another reminder, that the culture had—truly—coarsened over the decades! Truly coarsened!

“You… you’re not being bitchy! You’re good medicine for me! I guess I’ve needed . . . really needed my fanny kicked! Probably for a good long time!”

“Well, I’m not… normally… in the business, of kicking fannies! But, you? You, Jason… you are special! So special! Special… to me! I hate to see you so… well, so… so down on yourself! You have so much . . . so much to offer! And it’s time . . . time that you realized that! Listen, if you set your mind to it… there’s nothing you can’t do! And I’m positive that you don’t want to spend your life… spend it, hauling around loads of stupid bricks!”

“I’d never really thought much… past that! Past hauling bricks, you know! The pay, y’know… it’s pretty good! In fact it’s… you should excuse the expression… damn good! I’ve never made this much money! Not in my whole, entire, life!”

“Right! And after ten or fifteen years… or maybe even ten or fifteen months . . . you’ll be worn down! Completely worn down! Worn to nothing… but, a nub, Jason! Consider any wages lost . . . in, hopefully, your campaign, to better yourself… consider those wages, as an investment! That’s the only way, to look at it. The only way!”

“Yeah.” His voice had a tinge, of defeat—or, at least, surrender—in it.

“C’mon, Jason!’ Her voice softened—noticeably. “Don’t act so damn down-and-out! You’ve got your whole life . . . and it’s all in front of you! And your future . . . listen, that can be great! Really great! Excusing expressions again… it can be damn great!”

The rather long walk—back to Valerie’s parents’ house—was made, in silence, for the most part. The couple had left the restaurant—after consuming a total of three ribs. Jason had eaten but two. And they had been the smallest pair on his “rack” None consumed—once his date had become his self-appointed “motivator”. Said date had nibbled away at only one, of her ration. She, obviously, had been too busy “motivating” (maybe “mothering”?)—to have paid all that much attention, to the fast-cooling meal, in front of her.

Once they’d arrived at her door, she turned to him, and in a huskier-than-she’d-intended voice, said, “Jason… I want you to kiss me! I don’t want you