Nobody's Fool

shaken hands. “I know a guy who might be getting rid of a snowblower cheap.”
    â€œHow come?” Ralph wondered. After all, winter was about to descend on them in earnest.
    â€œMoving to Florida,” Sully lied.
    â€œWon’t need it there, will he?” Ralph said.
    â€œIf you’re interested …” Sully said. “It’s practically brand-new. I’ve used it myself.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Ralph said, looking away. “How much does he want for it?”
    â€œI think I might end up with it for free,” Sully said. “You could keep it over at your place and I could borrow it.”
    Clearly this made no sense at all to Ralph. Snowblowers cost a lot of money, and it wasn’t like you couldn’t sell a used one, especially this time of year. Ralph himself was always inclined to trust Sully, but this was by no means his wife’s inclination. Vera would smell something wrong with this arrangement immediately and probably find a way to insult Sully for making the offer. “Sounds awful good,” Ralph admitted sadly, like a little boy imparting bad news to a friend—my mom won’t let me.
    â€œI’ll let you know how it works out,” Sully promised, then nodded in the direction of the boy. “Don’t be too surprised if he wants to drive home.”
    Ralph studied the boy, smiled. “I kinda wish I could be around to see him and his brothers grown up safe. I’d feel a lot better knowing they were okay.”
    â€œWhat makes you think you won’t be?” Sully said.
    Ralph apparently found encouragement in this question. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, his face brightening. “Hell, maybe we both will.”
    â€œHold that thought,” Sully suggested by way of good-bye, and the two men shook hands again before Sully went back inside. At the cigarette machine by the door Sully was able to watch Ralph back out cautiously and point the car back toward Bath, driving like a man who didn’t intend to die in an accident. Sully caught just a glimpse of his grandson snuggled into Ralph’s big body for safety.
    The same girl who had waited on Sully and his grandson came over when he went back into the restaurant. “More coffee?” she said. She actually smiled.
    â€œOkay,” Sully agreed. “And a chicken-fried steak on the side.”
    She blinked. “You want a chicken-fried steak?”
    â€œRight,” he said.
    â€œWe got a special on turkey and stuffing,” she said. “All the trimmings for six ninety-five.”
    â€œTerrific,” Sully said. “I’ll see if I’m still hungry after my chicken-fried steak.”
    The girl’s smile disappeared. In her opinion there should have been a law against wise-asses on Thanksgiving.
    Carl Roebuck’s car was in the driveway, so Sully pulled in behind it. He looked around for the snowblower, but it wasn’t in sight. Carl himself was seated at the kitchen table staring at a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s when Sully knocked and went in.
    â€œYou know,” Carl looked up. “When we bought this house, the realtor swore people like you weren’t even allowed in the neighborhood.”
    Sully pulled up a chair. “You must have misunderstood her,” he said. “She probably said there were no niggers allowed.”
    â€œI’ve always considered you a nigger,” Carl said. “You do nigger work for nigger wages. Niggers have higher aspirations, of course.”
    Sully lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Carl’s direction by way of response. “I’d be happy if I could just get you to pay me my nigger wages. That’s my only aspiration, in fact.”
    Carl inhaled Sully’s smoke deeply. “Can I have one of those?”
    Sully tossed him the pack. Carl pushed the bottle in Sully’s direction.
    â€œWe’ll drink right out of the bottle, like men,” Carl said. “This’ll be men’s night here at Casa Roebuck. Glasses? We don’t need no fucking glasses.” He inhaled his own cigarette deeply. “You never go to the movies, do you?”
    â€œNever,” Sully said.
    â€œYou don’t even own a VCR, I bet.”
    â€œNot even,” Sully admitted.
    Carl shook his head. “Sully, Sully, Sully. You’re not an eighties guy.”
    â€œIf I had a VCR, would I be happy like you?” Sully