been reversed, and he had learned that Junior was in jail for molesting a child, he would have been on the phone, or gone to the jail with a lawyer immediately. And no matter what they said, he wouldn't have believed Junior guilty of doing something like that. But Junior hadn't even called the jail to find out what they were doing with his father.
With Maya gone, his life would be a little harder now. He would have to cook his own meals, clean the house, and do his own laundry, but he would rather do that than take her back. That's what their marriage had come down to anyway, a division of labor, just two people sharing the same house. For months Maya had tried to talk to him about moving back to Hamtramck, and every time she brought it up he had refused to discuss it.
"We made our decision when we came down here," he told her, "and we're settled in now. If you want to go up there on a visit, you can go by yourself. I don't ever want to see ice and snow again. Just call Junior and tell him you're coming back to visit for a couple of weeks or a month--and see what he says!"
Maya hinted to Junior on the phone a few times that she would like to visit, but she didn't get an invitation, and she didn't come right out and ask for one because she knew she wouldn't get one, and Stanley knew she wouldn't ever get one. So this "incident" with Pammi was the first real excuse she had to leave, her first opportunity, and she had taken it because Junior couldn't turn her away if Stanley was in jail. Well, as far as Stanley was concerned, she could stay there, too. He had his pride, and he wouldn't take her back. He might if she begged him, but he didn't think she would do that. In her own way, she was as stubborn as he was; she didn't like Florida, and she didn't need Stanley any more than he needed her.
Well, he could take care of himself. It was all over, and he was too exhausted to think about it any longer. Without finishing his coffee, Stanley went into the bedroom to lie down for a moment, to quiet the rapid beating of his heart.
A minute later, Stanley was asleep, and he didn't awaken until morning.
It was still dark when Stanley got up at five A.M. and shaved. He scrambled two eggs in butter and toasted himself two slices of bread. He made instant coffee instead of using the Mr. Coffee machine, because he didn't know how to work it and he couldn't find the directions in the kitchen drawer where Maya kept all of the warranties for their appliances.
Stanley was disappointed in his son, but no longer angry with him. The boy (Junior was almost forty years old) hadn't turned out as well as he should have, even though Stanley had paid for Junior's two years of community college. Junior had been fired from both Ford and Chrysler because he had been unable to adjust to working on the line. After a series of low-paying jobs, he had finally found a job selling new cars for Joe "Madman" Stuart Chrysler in Detroit. The last time Stanley had talked to his son on the phone, the boy had been on the verge of tears. Junior worked for an unrealistic and demanding sales manager who'd had an old-fashioned cardboard outhouse built, complete with a cutout quarter moon on the door. The salesman with the lowest sales each week had to stay seated in the "shithouse" during the weekly sales meetings and pep talks. Any salesman who ended up in the shithouse for three weeks in a row was fired automatically. Junior spent one or two meetings a month in this mock-up and had barely escaped the terminal third week on two different occasions. For some time, it had been in the back of Stanley's mind to suggest to Junior that he move down to Florida when he got fired, as he was bound to be sooner or later, so he could get a fresh start in life. But that was out now. And if Junior fell behind in the rent payments, Stanley would have him evicted. It was just a token rent he paid anyway; the Hamtramck house should be renting for $325, or
With Maya gone, his life would be a little harder now. He would have to cook his own meals, clean the house, and do his own laundry, but he would rather do that than take her back. That's what their marriage had come down to anyway, a division of labor, just two people sharing the same house. For months Maya had tried to talk to him about moving back to Hamtramck, and every time she brought it up he had refused to discuss it.
"We made our decision when we came down here," he told her, "and we're settled in now. If you want to go up there on a visit, you can go by yourself. I don't ever want to see ice and snow again. Just call Junior and tell him you're coming back to visit for a couple of weeks or a month--and see what he says!"
Maya hinted to Junior on the phone a few times that she would like to visit, but she didn't get an invitation, and she didn't come right out and ask for one because she knew she wouldn't get one, and Stanley knew she wouldn't ever get one. So this "incident" with Pammi was the first real excuse she had to leave, her first opportunity, and she had taken it because Junior couldn't turn her away if Stanley was in jail. Well, as far as Stanley was concerned, she could stay there, too. He had his pride, and he wouldn't take her back. He might if she begged him, but he didn't think she would do that. In her own way, she was as stubborn as he was; she didn't like Florida, and she didn't need Stanley any more than he needed her.
Well, he could take care of himself. It was all over, and he was too exhausted to think about it any longer. Without finishing his coffee, Stanley went into the bedroom to lie down for a moment, to quiet the rapid beating of his heart.
A minute later, Stanley was asleep, and he didn't awaken until morning.
It was still dark when Stanley got up at five A.M. and shaved. He scrambled two eggs in butter and toasted himself two slices of bread. He made instant coffee instead of using the Mr. Coffee machine, because he didn't know how to work it and he couldn't find the directions in the kitchen drawer where Maya kept all of the warranties for their appliances.
Stanley was disappointed in his son, but no longer angry with him. The boy (Junior was almost forty years old) hadn't turned out as well as he should have, even though Stanley had paid for Junior's two years of community college. Junior had been fired from both Ford and Chrysler because he had been unable to adjust to working on the line. After a series of low-paying jobs, he had finally found a job selling new cars for Joe "Madman" Stuart Chrysler in Detroit. The last time Stanley had talked to his son on the phone, the boy had been on the verge of tears. Junior worked for an unrealistic and demanding sales manager who'd had an old-fashioned cardboard outhouse built, complete with a cutout quarter moon on the door. The salesman with the lowest sales each week had to stay seated in the "shithouse" during the weekly sales meetings and pep talks. Any salesman who ended up in the shithouse for three weeks in a row was fired automatically. Junior spent one or two meetings a month in this mock-up and had barely escaped the terminal third week on two different occasions. For some time, it had been in the back of Stanley's mind to suggest to Junior that he move down to Florida when he got fired, as he was bound to be sooner or later, so he could get a fresh start in life. But that was out now. And if Junior fell behind in the rent payments, Stanley would have him evicted. It was just a token rent he paid anyway; the Hamtramck house should be renting for $325, or
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