Nobody's Fool

back. As soon as it occurred to Rub to desire something, he told Sully about it right away, so they could contemplate it together. To Rub’s mind, Sully’s one human flaw was that he didn’t seem to want much more than he had, which seemed unaccountable. If you were standing outside in the cold and wet, it was only natural to wish you were inside where it was warm and dry, so Rub wished it, and not just selfishly for himself, but for Sully too. That was friendship. Maybe Peter was Sully’s son, but Rub was pretty sure Peter had no such strong feelings for Sully. He wasn’t really Sully’s friend. And as Rub slid onto the stool, as close as he could get to Sully on the other side of the counter, he’d have liked to explain this whole friendship deal to him, so he’d know. Instead he said, “Could I borrow a dollar?”
    Sully slipped his long spatula under a phalanx of sausage links and flipped them before turning to Rub, who immediately looked at the countertop and flushed. “No,” Sully told him.
    â€œOkay.” Rub shrugged.
    Sully sighed and shook his head. “You can borrow a couple eggs if you want.”
    â€œYou can’t borrow eggs,” Rub said. “Once you eat them, they’re gone.”
    â€œWhen I give you money, it’s gone too,” Sully pointed out. “I’d rather give you eggs.”
    Sully cracked two eggs onto the grill, where they sputtered in bacon grease. Since taking over the morning grill at Hattie’s he’d made several small but significant changes by executive decision. One was that eggs got fried in bacon grease. They tasted better that way, in Sully’s opinion, and the grease was already sitting there anyhow. He also gave people the kind of toast he had handy. White, whole wheat. Once it was toasted you could hardly tell the difference, and Sully liked to finish one loaf before starting another. His inflexibility at the grill was already the occasion of considerable joking from men who knew he was going to make their breakfasts his way. They ordered poached eggs over rye toast, fresh-squeezed orange juice, a croissant and orange marmalade and herbal tea, thereby ensuring that when their breakfast was set in front of them (juice from the carton, eggs scrambled, white toast with strawberry preserves, muddy coffee) it would contain not a single item they’d ordered.
    Sully put the plate of eggs in front of Rub. “You know what I’m dreaming of?” he said.
    Rub dug into his eggs hungrily.
    â€œHey,” Sully said.
    Rub looked up.
    â€œI’m talking to you.”
    â€œWhat?” Rub said. It was just like Sully to ignore him until he gave him his food and then want to talk.
    â€œWhat am I dreaming of?”
    Rub looked at his friend’s face, as if the answer might be written there.
    â€œI’ll give you one hint. It’s the same thing I was dreaming of yesterday and the day before that. I’ve been dreaming of this one thing for the last two weeks, and every morning I’ve dreamed it right in front of you. I’ve sung this dream out loud.”
    Rub, forkful of bleeding eggs halfway to his open mouth, tried to remember yesterday. Cass and the two men at the counter who’d been listening in to this conversation began to hum “White Christmas” significantly. Then suddenly the answer was there. “A white fucking Christmas,” Rub said and sucked the eggs into his mouth happily.
    â€œThat’s what I’m dreaming of, all right,” Sully said. “A white fucking Christmas.”
    The men at the counter began to sing it. “I’m dreaming of a whitefucking Christmas.” Old Hattie rocked in her booth, her eyes serene, contemplative. The song had always been one of her favorites.
    The singing had just died down when Peter and Will came in, the little boy looking sleepy but happy, his father just sleepy. Peter helped Will onto the stool next to Rub, then slid onto the one next to his son. Will wrinkled his nose. “Something smells,” he whispered.
    Sully nodded. “Switch stools with your father,” he suggested.
    They switched.
    â€œBetter?” Sully said.
    â€œA little,” the boy said.
    â€œIt’ll be much better in a minute,” Sully said. Rub was mopping up the remainder of his egg yolk and unmindful of every other reality. Sully doubted he’d heard a word of the