Nat arrived home a little after five.
The old man was sitting in the living room, watching the evening news.
He looked up and smiled at Nat, then rose and crossed the room to turn down the volume on the TV set.
“How about you don’t even bring Feathers in? Maybe just put him straight into his run and then get cleaned up for dinner?”
Nat stood frozen in the foyer, still holding the dog’s leash. Not crossing the threshold into the living room.
“Yeah. OK. I mean, good idea.”
“You must have had a successful day.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you were gone all day, so I figured you must have found something.”
Oh, yeah. I found something, Nat thought. I finally found something. Finally. Maybe even two somethings. “Oh. You mean work?”
“Yes. I thought you might have found a job.”
“Oh. No. I didn’t find anything.”
“Well, then, what did you do all day?”
“Oh. Well. I was looking.”
A brief, tense moment. Was it tense? It seemed so to Nat. But maybe the tension was only on the inside of Nat. Maybe the old man couldn’t see it or hear it at all.
Then the old guy said, “Maybe you’ll have better luck tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Nat said. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe so.”
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Nat borrowed an alarm clock from the old man, who seemed more than pleased to lend it.
He set it for six A.M.
6 October 1978
Late
Nat arrived at the breakfast table before seven. Showered. Dressed. His hair neatly combed.
He was the third and last to arrive.
The old man was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the morning paper and eating ham and scrambled eggs. Eleanor was standing at the stove, scrambling more. For him? Nat wondered. He hoped so. He had a big day in front of him. He’d need his strength.
Nat glanced at the headline of the paper. For some weird reason it flashed him back, all the way to age twelve. A big, sudden memory that hit him hard. He could almost see the headline of the paper dated just two days after his birth. In his head. Behind his eyes. It seemed to be printed there, but he hadn’t known it. It wasn’t the actual headline of today’s paper itself that set things off. That was nothing. It just said, “SPECIAL ELECTION: MEASURE D GOES DOWN TO OVERWHELMING DEFEAT.” Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen the morning paper for years. Or maybe because of whose hands held it.
Nat could almost feel the hard, cold boards of his grandmother’s bedroom floor against his knees.
He wondered what his grandmother was doing this morning.
He wondered if the old man had sat in this same kitchen eighteen years ago and read the morning paper, just like he was doing now. If he saw that headline and thought, right, I know. You don’t have to tell me. I was there. I was the hunter whose name they never bothered to mention.
He shook the thoughts away again, but they left a disquieting hangover.
Eleanor set a cup of coffee and a pitcher of cream in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said.
The old guy folded up his paper and set it on the table. “Nice to see you up and around so early. You look very nice, too. Very professional.”
“Thought I’d get a jump on the old job search.”
“It just so happens that I have a pleasant surprise for you on that score. I called a friend of mine half an hour ago, on your behalf. Marvin LaPlante. He owns a big, thriving dairy on the outskirts of town. Out on the old Hunt Road. I’ve been doing his books and taxes for years now. Maybe twenty years. And I got you an interview for this morning.”
Nat felt his face go slack and cold. And, he hoped, blank. He tried desperately not to let it fall. He wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded.
“An interview?”
“Yes. Marvin said he can always use another able-bodied young man on the loading docks.”
“Loading docks?”
“Yes, you know, loading the milk on to the delivery trucks.”
“Oh. Right. Well … Good. Well … that’s good, then. An interview. This morning. That’s great.”
“I thought you’d be pleased. Especially after pounding the pavement all day yesterday and coming up empty-handed.”
“Um. Right. So … What time am I supposed to be there?”
“He said anytime this morning would be fine.”
“How do I get out there?”
“The Number 12 bus goes out there. But for this morning, it’s really only about fifteen minutes out of my way. Since you’re up so early, anyway. If you’d slept in, I was going to leave you bus fare. But you’re up and ready. And I have to go out as far as Ellis for my first appointment. So why don’t I drop you? And then I’ll lend you some bus fare to get home. And if you come home with the job, I’ll lend you bus fare for the coming week and the rest of this one, and you can pay me back out of your first paycheck.”
Silence, as Nat’s thoughts spun in circles. He didn’t have Little Manny’s phone number. In fact, he didn’t even know if Little Manny had a phone. And even if he did have a phone, and even if he was listed, Nat wouldn’t have any change left over for a phone call. He would just have to be late. Really late. Hours late. He had no choice.
Maybe Little Manny would give up on him.
He could take the bus straight to the little apartment over the gym. Straight from the job interview. And then walk home. But maybe Little Manny wouldn’t be there by then. Or maybe he would tell Nat to go shove it, if he couldn’t do better than hours late. If he didn’t care about a valuable offer of free training any more than that.
Eleanor set a plate of scrambled eggs and ham slices in front of him, with a separate small plate of toast and grape jelly.
“Thank you. Very much,” he said to her. Then, to the old man, “Does he know about my … uh . . ?”
“Yes. I told him you had just been released from a three-year incarceration. I thought honesty was the best policy in a case like that.”
“And he still wants to interview me?”
“So he says. Better hurry up and eat your breakfast. We have to go in less than fifteen minutes.”
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