Empire Falls

case,” Miles allowed, “he’s talking to the right man.”
    “C HEAP BASTARD,” Max said, counting the bills Father Mark had given him before stuffing them into the front pocket of his paint-splattered pants. The passenger seat and floor of the Jetta were now paint-flecked, thanks to Max’s refusal to change into clean clothes when they quit for the day. He made no distinction between work clothes and other clothes, and since he had started helping Miles at St. Cat’s, the old man’s shirts and pants and shoes were all paint-smudged. When people pointed this out, he offered his customary “So what?” Few men, Miles reflected, lived so comfortably within the confines of a two-word personal philosophy.
    “Did you even say thank you?” Miles asked as they pulled out of the driveway.
    “Why should I?” Max said. “I worked, didn’t I?”
    “I told you we were working for free and you agreed.”
    “That doesn’t mean he can’t give me money if he feels like it. You’re the fool, not me.”
    Miles turned toward the restaurant. Tick was working in the back room tonight, so he’d give her a hand. He also wanted to check in and see how John Voss was doing, and made a mental promise not to fire the new kid no matter how big a mess he was making of his new responsibilities.
    “Of course I can see where you’d be embarrassed to take money,” Max said. “You climb up two rungs onto a damn ladder and you’re hanging on for dear life.”
    “You want me to drop you off somewhere, Dad?”
    “He’s a queer, you know,” Max said. “That young one?”
    “Where did you get that idea, Dad?”
    “That’s what the geezer told me,” Max added hastily. “I wouldn’t know myself one way or the other.”
    “Father Tom’s senile, Dad. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
    “Oh, I noticed right away,” Max said. “I like him better this way. But knowing you, you probably approve.”
    Miles squinted over at his father. “Of senility?”
    “No, of queers,” Max clarified. “We were talking about queers.”
    “No, you were saying you thought Father Mark was gay, and I was saying you don’t know what you’re talking about. As usual.”
    “Queer’s what I said, not gay. You’re just mad because you didn’t get paid and I did.”
    “No, Dad, I’m not. I’m thrilled, in fact. Maybe you can make it through the weekend without hitting me up for a loan.”
    “Everybody’s got needs,” Max said, leaning forward to push the button on the glove box. “Just because I’m sempty don’t mean I’ve stopped eating, you know.”
    “You should remember those end-of-the-month needs when you’re sucking down beer at the beginning of the month,” Miles suggested. “You mind telling me what you’re doing?”
    “Your glove box won’t open.”
    “You know why, Dad? Because it’s locked.”
    “Locked?” Max looked flabbergasted. Just yesterday it hadn’t been locked when he went through it and removed the sawbuck that had gotten him through until payday. He clearly regarded finding the glove compartment locked now as a disappointing development. Like arriving someplace for dinner, assuming you’d be welcome, and finding your place setting in the cupboard.
    “It’s locked to keep out people who have no business being in there,” Miles explained.
    If Max was offended by this inference, he didn’t show it. Instead he leaned forward, feeling under the dash. “That little lock wouldn’t keep anybody out,” he said. To illustrate, he thumped a spot underneath with the heel of his hand and the glove box popped open. “A guy down in the Keys taught me that,” he said, clearly pleased that he’d been such a good student. “I could show you if you want.”
    Miles pulled over to the curb, put the car in Park, leaned across his father and rummaged through the sprung compartment until he located the twenty he’d put there in the morning as a hedge against emergency. The bill safely in his shirt, he pulled back into the street.
    Max studied his son’s shirt for a moment, as if to memorize the exact location of the pocket for future reference. “You never take advantage of all the things I’ve learned in life,” he said. “A man doesn’t get to be sempty without learning a thing or two, you know.” When Miles failed to respond, he added, “Or maybe you think you know everything already.”
    “I know you’re not going to get this twenty-dollar bill,” Miles said, glancing over at him. Max