Nobody's Fool

what she does, she does for herself,” Peter said. “Especially her suffering.”
    â€œYou think she likes to suffer?”
    â€œThat’s what I think.”
    â€œI think you’re wrong,” Sully said, though he didn’t, at least not exactly.
    â€œYou should have seen the look on her face tonight when I told her I was coming to see you. As if I’d killed her. I think it was the happiest moment of her life.”
    Sully studied his son, aware that his momentary pride in Peter’s accomplishments had leaked away into serious misgivings about his character. It was Peter who seemed to be enjoying the recollection of his mother’s suffering.
    When their hamburgers came, Sully, feeling his stomach shrink as it frequently did at the sight of food, cut his in half, placed the larger half and some fries on a napkin. “Give this to Long John Silver,” he instructed Jeff.Wirf, down the bar, had smelled the food, then seen it and was now watching Peter eat with his customary longing.
    Peter devoured his burger with excellent appetite, the result, no doubt, of having escaped the atmosphere of Vera’s air fresheners. He regarded his father half humorously as Sully struggled with the last of his half hamburger before giving up. “Speaking of doctors,” Peter said, “when was the last time you saw one?”
    â€œA couple months?”
    â€œFor your knee.”
    â€œRight,” Sully said.
    â€œI meant for a checkup. You’ve lost weight.”
    Sully knew that this was true, though it didn’t concern him. “You look like you’ve gained a little, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he observed, having noticed that his son, for all his good looks, had the beginning of a paunch, rather like Carl Roebuck’s.
    â€œThe sedentary life,” Peter explained, adding, when Sully didn’t reply, “Sitting on your ass.”
    â€œI know what it means,” Sully said. “You forget I was a college student until a couple days ago. It was the sitting on my ass that I objected to most.”
    Peter was grinning. “It’s hard to imagine you in class,” he said.
    â€œIt’s hard to imagine you climbing a fence.” Sully stood up, flexed. “But we’re going to find out if you can.” He threw a ten-dollar bill onto the bar to cover the burgers and beer. His last ten dollars, it occurred to him vaguely. “Let’s go see if that mutt’s asleep.”
    â€œWhere you going this time?” Wirf wondered when they headed for the door. “Drink one beer with me.”
    Sully noticed that Wirf had picked the cheese off his burger. “What’s the matter with the cheese?” he said.
    â€œMakes me constipated,” Wirf confessed. “Next time ask them to hold the cheese on my half.”
    â€œNext time I’ll eat the whole thing myself.”
    â€œSit down. Drink a beer with me.”
    Sully shook his head sadly, looked at his son. “You ever meet a man with only one speed before?”
    â€œYes,” Peter said. “You.”
    Wirf clearly enjoyed this rejoinder. “I like him,” he told Sully.
    â€œThat’s understandable,” Sully said. “I helped make him.”
    â€œThat’s not the part I like, though,” Wirf said.
    At the door, as Sully struggled into his coat, he again noticed the strange odor that lingered there, a smell he’d been aware of off and on all day, except it was stronger now.
    â€œDo I want to know why I’m going to have to climb that fence?” Peter said.
    â€œEasy.” Sully opened the door so Peter could precede him. “You’re going to steal me a snowblower.”
    â€œI don’t know about this,” Peter said for the third time. His father was running a stick along the chain-link fence, making a hell of a racket, calling to the dog. The big yard on the other side of the fence was dark, full of heavy machinery. The dog could be anywhere. “He could be waiting to pounce,” Peter said.
    Sully looked at him. “Remember when we drove up the last time? He wasn’t waiting to pounce. He was pouncing.”
    This was true. The dog had been foaming at the mouth and lunging at the fence before his father had been able to get out of the car. Still, the dog’s absence seemed significant. And scary. Had they found him, drugged and dreaming peacefully up against the