The Work Is Innocent by Rafael Yglesias Page A

his window. For weeks Richard would imagine what the workman had seen: the covers draped over the bedside, books and empty beer cans strewn on the floor, Richard in a thermal T shirt, black on the edges with filth, his pants still on, his head thrown back with his mouth wide open. He got up and pulled the shades down violently. After a cup of coffee, he went upstairs and told John about it. John laughed and asked Richard when he’d last taken a bath, but Richard tossed the question back at John and they laughed, agreeing it was a draw.
    Nevertheless, Richard cleaned his room up, changing the sheets and airing it out. Then he took a bath. John teased him about it and his inability to hold liquor. Richard felt the jokes keenly and resented John but he never showed it since that would make him more of a fool.
    Between these jokes and Richard’s awareness of what he could be thinking because of his sexual confession, Richard was suspicious of John’s friendship. He swore to himself every night that he would behave in an independent fashion—not get drunk and rave (as John called it) about his life. But he sat there, doing nothing while John pored over his designs, his stout muscular body perfectly still and awesome, until Richard would start talking, getting drunker and more hysterical as the night wore on. John would put away twice the quantity of liquor, unchanged but for slightly dull, reddened eyes.
    His parents were coming soon and he and John were both on edge. John was uneasy about being in the house for the month it would take to finish because of the strained way the family had taken Naomi’s trip. Richard couldn’t stand living with them any more. John asked Richard a few days before they were due to arrive if he thought they would notice all the liquor bottles had been drained except for laughably small amounts.
    Richard was surprised by that fear, but when he looked at the liquor cabinet and saw seven bottles almost emptied, he felt the constricting shame of a little boy’s guilt. “Boy, that is a drag,” he said.
    John looked at him thoughtfully and sighed. “Well, fuck ’em.”
    It startled Richard to hear John speak forcefully. “Yeah. Why shouldn’t you drink the liquor?”
    “What is this—you? I wasn’t the guy who said he was going to drink five different kinds of booze in one night.”
    “Us,” Richard said, laughing. “I mean us. Why shouldn’t we?”
    John cleared his throat. “Well, seven bottles is gonna put them uptight.” John yawned and scratched his beard. “You know, ‘Oh, John’s been drinking instead of doing his work.’ ”
    “Oh, come on. They wouldn’t say that.”
    John was unimpressed by his assertion. “I’m doing a lot of work pretty cheaply.”
    “They know that. They know it would cost them twice as much to have it done by a contractor.”
    “A contractor wouldn’t do what I’m doing.”
    “Yeah, they wouldn’t even get that design. Listen, when I was with them I described what you were doing. They loved it.”
    “Really?”
    “Oh yeah. Are you kidding?” Richard nodded at him with solemn assurance. “The only thing that’ll bug ’em is that it isn’t finished when you promised.” John made a face. “But that’s because of the plumber. You told them about that.”
    John looked at him seriously, exhaling cigarette smoke in a thin line. “But when I wrote Aaron about the heating problem and told him it would cost another thousand, he just sent the check in an empty envelope.”
    “Well, it wasn’t your estimate. I mean he can only be angry at Hickle for that.” Richard knew that his father might very well blame John for anything if he was in a bad mood. John explained to him why it had taken him so long to get to work on the attic upstairs, and Richard’s sympathies were with him. Richard assured him that his father hadn’t meant anything by just enclosing a check. John seemed to feel better, but in a rush, Richard imagined how his father