attend to.” She stands, and Danderman and I struggle to our feet.
“I’ll walk you to your room,” I offer quickly.
“That won’t be necessary tonight, Cyril,” she says. “You’ve not finished your meal yet.”
“Allow me,” Danderman says.
“You sit with Cyril,” she tells him. “He’s just been in the hospital for a while and doesn’t know too many people.” She’s off with her cane tap-tapping quicker than I’ve ever seen her move, escaping us both.
Danderman watches her walk away. “Pretty foxy lady,” he comments. “Nice legs.” He turns to me.
“Listen, junior, you keep trying to show me up like that, you’ll be wishing the cops hadn’t found you in that blizzard.” His demeanor has changed. He’s edged forward and is leaning on me like Danderman the tough jock.
“Here now!” I say. “Aren’t we a bit old to be talking tough to each other?”
“You started it, Mr. Frosty. What kind of jobs did you have? Cleaning up the toilets at the VFW? I could have hired you to mow my lawns, except you probably wouldn’t have got the lines straight.”
After all these years Danderman was finally speaking to me. Were the two of us going to have a dustup over a woman right here in the dining room of the old folks’ home?
That would probably be a first for this place. I notice there is a crutch propped against his chair. That could be his weapon, and I could use one of my walking sticks. Satisfaction! En garde ! Clackety-clack.
I’d seen Danderman hobbling painfully around the halls; his crabbed pace was obviously making him irritable. Years ago in high school I saw him run for a seventy-yard touchdown. But now—even I could probably dazzle him with a little footwork despite my missing four toes.
Poor Louise, how disgusting for her! What silly boys she must think we are. I’ll pick her some flowers from one of the beds in the parking lot. In the meantime, I have to deal with Danderman, the ex-jock who has his big nose way out of joint.
“Look, it’s too bad we’re having this little rumpus,” I say. “Both of us should probably watch our blood pressures. How about a game of checkers sometime?”
Danderman struggles to his feet. I wonder if he is going to smack me with his crutch—but he tucks it under his armpit. He sticks his big red puss down close to mine; his breath is like air off the town dump. “Listen, snowman, don’t butt in next time you see me talking to a woman! It ain’t polite.”
Suddenly everything seems at stake, my vision flares. I take a blast of air into my lungs, blood rushing to what’s left of my fingertips. I snarl back at Danderman: “Up your ass with a ten-foot pole!”
Men are rote creatures. They curse each other like little boys when they don’t know what else to do, they revert to teenage playground blurt. I’d never dreamed of saying such a thing to someone like Danderman. In the old days I would have kept my mouth shut, hoping for the best—but age has ground us both down to our nubs, and things have evened out a bit.
Danderman starts to walk away, but when he hears my response he turns and faces me again, drooling with anger. I think—this is it, he’s going to come back and deal with my ass. People sitting at nearby tables are alarmed. But then he remembers who we both are and where we are. His eyes flick around the room; he bites it off and jerks around to walk away.
The scene we had created was like a weigh-in at a heavyweight boxing match. I’d occasionally seen men brawling over women in the parking lot at Burkhum’s, and always thought that all that blood came too readily. But now I feel like Saint George. If necessary, for the fair Louise, I will face the fetid breath of this half-dead dragon. Bring him on! I’ll knock him down on his goddamned keister! I’ll drop him like a hot spud!
C HAPTER 10
Louise
W e live such small lives in this place. All of us are here because we can no longer stand on our own. I remember my
“I’ll walk you to your room,” I offer quickly.
“That won’t be necessary tonight, Cyril,” she says. “You’ve not finished your meal yet.”
“Allow me,” Danderman says.
“You sit with Cyril,” she tells him. “He’s just been in the hospital for a while and doesn’t know too many people.” She’s off with her cane tap-tapping quicker than I’ve ever seen her move, escaping us both.
Danderman watches her walk away. “Pretty foxy lady,” he comments. “Nice legs.” He turns to me.
“Listen, junior, you keep trying to show me up like that, you’ll be wishing the cops hadn’t found you in that blizzard.” His demeanor has changed. He’s edged forward and is leaning on me like Danderman the tough jock.
“Here now!” I say. “Aren’t we a bit old to be talking tough to each other?”
“You started it, Mr. Frosty. What kind of jobs did you have? Cleaning up the toilets at the VFW? I could have hired you to mow my lawns, except you probably wouldn’t have got the lines straight.”
After all these years Danderman was finally speaking to me. Were the two of us going to have a dustup over a woman right here in the dining room of the old folks’ home?
That would probably be a first for this place. I notice there is a crutch propped against his chair. That could be his weapon, and I could use one of my walking sticks. Satisfaction! En garde ! Clackety-clack.
I’d seen Danderman hobbling painfully around the halls; his crabbed pace was obviously making him irritable. Years ago in high school I saw him run for a seventy-yard touchdown. But now—even I could probably dazzle him with a little footwork despite my missing four toes.
Poor Louise, how disgusting for her! What silly boys she must think we are. I’ll pick her some flowers from one of the beds in the parking lot. In the meantime, I have to deal with Danderman, the ex-jock who has his big nose way out of joint.
“Look, it’s too bad we’re having this little rumpus,” I say. “Both of us should probably watch our blood pressures. How about a game of checkers sometime?”
Danderman struggles to his feet. I wonder if he is going to smack me with his crutch—but he tucks it under his armpit. He sticks his big red puss down close to mine; his breath is like air off the town dump. “Listen, snowman, don’t butt in next time you see me talking to a woman! It ain’t polite.”
Suddenly everything seems at stake, my vision flares. I take a blast of air into my lungs, blood rushing to what’s left of my fingertips. I snarl back at Danderman: “Up your ass with a ten-foot pole!”
Men are rote creatures. They curse each other like little boys when they don’t know what else to do, they revert to teenage playground blurt. I’d never dreamed of saying such a thing to someone like Danderman. In the old days I would have kept my mouth shut, hoping for the best—but age has ground us both down to our nubs, and things have evened out a bit.
Danderman starts to walk away, but when he hears my response he turns and faces me again, drooling with anger. I think—this is it, he’s going to come back and deal with my ass. People sitting at nearby tables are alarmed. But then he remembers who we both are and where we are. His eyes flick around the room; he bites it off and jerks around to walk away.
The scene we had created was like a weigh-in at a heavyweight boxing match. I’d occasionally seen men brawling over women in the parking lot at Burkhum’s, and always thought that all that blood came too readily. But now I feel like Saint George. If necessary, for the fair Louise, I will face the fetid breath of this half-dead dragon. Bring him on! I’ll knock him down on his goddamned keister! I’ll drop him like a hot spud!
C HAPTER 10
Louise
W e live such small lives in this place. All of us are here because we can no longer stand on our own. I remember my
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