Roadside Bodhisattva Part 4

Angie got an interested look on his face at the mention of this last name, which I didnt reconize. But he still didnt smile. "Are you s.h.i.+tting me? You knew Roth?"

"Grew up right next door to him, didnt I? Worked with him every summer from the time I was thirteen till eighteen."

Angie nodded solemnly. "Well, maybe I could use your help at some point." But then his face went back to being grim. "Where are you two staying?"

I figured Angie was worried Ann was putting us up in her own apartment. But Sid managed to sidestep that issue.

"Miz Danielson was kind enough to offer us the old trailer. Its not the Waldorf, but were grateful, right, Kid? Just look for us there with the rac.o.o.ns and skunks. Say, Angie, what are you doing about lunch?"

"I usually close the garage at two for half an hour and they send me something over from the diner."

"Great! Ill try to finish the mowing by then and we can chow down together and talk Detroit iron. Ill carry our grub over."

Angie paused to consider this offer for a while, before he said, "Okay."

"Cmon, Kid, lets get a move on."

I picked up the container of gas and we headed back. Out on Route 1 cars and trucks zipped past us like all the drivers had the most important appointment in the world to keep. Someone threw an empty paper cup from his car, and I noticed how much roadside trash had drifted onto Anns property. A lone shoe, a burger carton, a weathered p.o.r.n magazine, a bucket smeared with dried red paint. Picking up that c.r.a.p, now there was a ch.o.r.e that needed doing.

I was feeling kinda unsettled after our meeting with Angie, and I knew it had something to do with Sid, but I couldnt say why or what, so I trudged on in silence. There was stray sheet of junk metal in one lane of the highway, and the cars in that lane kept running over it with a loud whump. The sound was annoying, and I started to get irrationally angry about it, until I finally realized what had p.i.s.sed me off about Sids actions.

Once we had walked far enough away that Angie couldnt hear us, I said to Sid, "Youre a liar and a hypocrite."

Surprisingly, Sid did not get p.i.s.sed off, but instead smiled broadly and said, "Hows that, Kid?"

"First off you insult a guy by using a jerky nickname behind his back. Then to his face youre all respectful and feeding him 'Im your best friend stuff. Then there was that c.r.a.p about growing up in California and working for some famous car guy until you were eighteen. But you told me you ran away from your prep school around age sixteen. Both those stories cant be true. So all that bulls.h.i.+t you just shoveled out makes you a liar and a hypocrite in my book."

"Kid, didnt you ever try getting on someones wavelength and using their own language in order to smooth out the b.u.mps in the dialogue between the two of you? You know, synchronizing your rap with his."

"That sounds like the same kinda Buddhist c.r.a.p my parents were always handing out. Preaching through skillful means."

"Skillful means I like that phrase." Sid repeated my words once more, then chuckled. "Maybe thats what I was doing. But its not c.r.a.p. Its using your wit and ingenuity and insight into the habits and patterns and prejudices and needs of people to lead them in a good direction they dont necessarily want to go in. Back at the diner, I could see that everyone was tense about me and Malatesta getting into some kinda brawl. So to cut through their anxiety, I cracked a lamea.s.s joke about his name. The stunt worked, and they all breathed a little easier as you and me strode off High Noon style. Then, when I got face to face with Angie, I switched tactics. I went all non-threatening, letting him be the alpha dog. I sussed what he was pa.s.sionate about, and made myself into a mirror for his interests. Maybe I had to stretch the truth of my autobiography a little to cover all the bases, but so what? Who did I hurt? No one. Did I lie in order to rip him off or get some personal advantage over him? I dont think so. In fact, I made my life a little more tedious in order to keep the peace. Now I have to spend my lunch break with the surly mook, listening to his boring gearhead chatter, instead of with you and Ann and the others. So yes, maybe by your strict standards Im a mendacious two-faced son of a b.i.t.c.h. But thats not how I see myself. And your opinion of my character is not going to keep me awake nights. However, maybe if you fart as loud and frequently as you did last night under the tree, that will do the trick."

"Fart! I dont fart in my sleep!"

Sid clapped me on the back. "No, Kid, you dont. But as soon as I said you did, you forgot all about my supposed sins, didnt you? Thats skillful means! And it just goes to show how fleeting moral indignation is now, dont it?"

Back at the shed, Sid wheeled the ancient lawnmower out and worked on getting it ready to use. I found a rake inside the shed, figuring Id rake up the clippings, since the mower didnt have any catcher bag. I circled around the overgrown lawn, picking up any rocks and litter that might interfere with the mowing. The sun was hot, and I unb.u.t.toned my s.h.i.+rt. But I didnt take it off, feeling kinda self-conscious. But before Sid even got the machine running, Ann called me from the diner door.

"Kid A! Cmon inside. Ive got a job for you here. We dont need two men to do the lawn."

I tossed down the rake, kinda angry at having to go work inside. Id been looking forward to helping Sid outdoors.

"Hey now," Sid said, buffing the grime off a spark plug, "thats no way to act. Pick up that rake it stow it away properly. Then go inside and do whatever Ann tells you to. And do it with a smile, hear?"

"Oh, all right."

"And remember, she just called you a man. Try to act like one."

About a dozen people filled half the seats in the diner. The air was even thicker with good smells than earlier, and my mouth started watering. Sonny the chef was moving like some kind of skinny spastic tornado, but he seemed to be getting everything done pretty efficiently. Behind the counter Ann waited on the customers seated on stools, while Jasmine threaded her way from booth to booth, plates full of food stacked on her bent arms up to her elbows. I didnt see Sue, and figured she was busy in the cabins.

Ann stopped a second to push some hair out of her eyes. "Kid, youre going to bus the tables and wash the dishes from now on during breakfast and lunch times. Youll find an ap.r.o.n in the back room. Yasmine will be there in a minute to show you what to do."

I started to object, but then remembered how Sid had asked me to behave. So I cracked the best smile I could manage, although I thought it mustve looked kinda sickly, and said, "Sure. Anything you say."

The back room tacked onto the diner was about a quarter the size of the front s.p.a.ce. Big metal sinks, an industrial-sized dishwasher, an oven, plastic drainracks atop counters, extra fridge and freezers, cardboard boxes of napkins and coffee filters, shelves to hold dishes and gla.s.ses, pans suspended from ceiling hooks, silverware in upright metal containers, a mop and bucket in a corner. The linoleum was peeling, the only window was a small one high up where a wheezy fan spun, and the back door was open with a screen door keeping out the bugs.

I found a grungy ap.r.o.n and tied it on. Yasmine came in carrying a big plastic tub full of dirty dishes and leftover sc.r.a.ps of food. She set it down with a crash next to the sinks.

"Thank Christ somebody else is going to be doing this dirty job! Ive had it with pulling double duty. Okay, listen up. Food sc.r.a.ps alone go in this bin here. We compost." Yasmine p.r.o.nounced this last word the way my folks p.r.o.nounced "nirvana." "You arrange the dishes and gla.s.ses like this in the machine. Soap powders under the sink here. Dont run the machine until youve got a full load, its wasteful."

When she delivered this last order, Yasmines voice again went from businesslike to a kinda holy tone, like she was some kinda environmental priestess. The change in her voice almost made me laugh, because she looked the least like a granola kind of chick than anybody I could imagine. I had to bite my lower lip to stop from grinning.

Yasmine didnt seem to catch my stifled smirk. "Pots and pans you have to scrub in the sink. Come out and bus the tables as often as you can. Ill split my tips with you eighty-five-fifteen. Okay?"

"Sure."

Yasmine left and I got busy. Soon I had a sink full of steaming water and soaking crusty skillets and baking dishes, and the diswas.h.i.+ng machine was droning and spritzing away. I found a wire brush and began attacking the caked-on crud in the pots. Every few minutes I stuck my head out into the front to check on which tables needed clearing. When I saw people getting up I would dash over with my plastic tub and gather up all the leftovers and plates and cigarette b.u.t.ts and then slop down the table with a clean cloth.

When I was ten my folks and I had lived in a temple, and I had learned how to do this kinda stuff in the communal kitchen. It was nothing new to me, and even though I wouldve rather been outside with Sid, I gave the job my full attention. I guessed that growing up in a family of lazy Zen parents had been good for something.

Outside I could hear the mower running, and every once in a while Sid would pa.s.s by the screen door, cutting a bright green pa.s.sage through the jungle. He had taken off his s.h.i.+rt and tied a blue bandana around his forehead. I could see him, but he couldnt see me. His chest hair was mostly silver, but he was indeed pretty trim around the gut for an old guy.

After forty-five minutes Yasmine brought me a big fat sticky bun. I had seen them under a gla.s.s cover on the counter out front.

"Here. This should hold you till three. Thats when we close."

I dried my hands and grabbed the pastry. I took a big bite out of it, and talked around the sweet mouthful. "You guys dont stay open later than that?"

"Nope. The motel business picks up around then, and Anns got to be free for that. Maybe if we could afford to hire some more help. Another chef, another waitress. But Ann doesnt think wed get enough dinner business to justify it. And theres no way Im staying past my s.h.i.+ft. Its a long enough day from five to three."

"You get here at five?"

"Not me. I start at six-thirty. But Sonny and Ann open up then. Hey, thats enough with the twenty questions." Yasmine moved toward the door, but stopped to look back at me. Her raspberry-colored lips twisted into a slippery smile. "Youd better bring some disinfectant to clean out booth number six."

"How come?"

"Kid with a leaking diaper."

"Ee-yeuw."

Yasmine grinned wider at my reaction. "Get used to it."

Around two-fifteen I heard the mower stop. Sid came in through the back door. He had put his s.h.i.+rt back on, and now sweat was seeping through the cloth, making dark patches on it.

"Hows it going, Kid? You earned those delicate Palmolive fingers yet?"

"Sid, I have no idea what youre talking about. But the job is fine. Carry water, chop wood, right?"

"Now I got no idea what youre talking about. But so long as youre down with the work, thats great. I wouldnt wanna feel I had shanghaied you into something too obnoxious."

Sid pa.s.sed into the front of the diner, and I could hear him joking with everyone. He came back before very long with two lunches in greasy paper bags. "Pair o cheeseburgers apiece for me and Angie, with double fries. Well get c.o.kes from the machine at the garage." Sid winked. "Too bad you gotta wait another half-hour or so, Kid."

"Yeah, too bad you dont have beautiful women bringing you pastry like I do in here."

"Zat so? Maybe well have to negotiate a swap in our duties tomorrow."

"Fat chance."

By three, only a single couple was left eating. The guy was thin as a pencil and was polis.h.i.+ng off the meat-loaf special, which featured a gravy-covered slab as big as book. The woman was drastically overweight and was picking at a salad. I had to chuckle.

Yasmine stood a bit off from their table radiating a kind of hurry-up-and-finish vibe. Ann flipped the sign in the window from open to closed, and started cleaning. Sonny was sc.r.a.ping his grill and skimming floating burnt bits off the fat in the deep fryers.

"Kid A, we can use some mop and bucket action out here."

"Sure thing."

At last Jack Sprat and his wife left, and we could sit and eat. Sue showed up, but not Sid or Angie. Sonny got busy with the tools of his trade, and pretty soon had whipped us up big plates of whatever we had asked for. I had the fish and chips, and after my hard work it tasted sweeter than almost any other meal I had ever enjoyed.

I sat in a booth with the three women, sharing a long seat with Sue. She took up more s.p.a.ce than me on the seat, and her leg was touching mine. But she didnt make any effort to move it away, so neither did I. Sonny sat at the counter with his back to us, not unfriendly but rather kinda shy and silent. The women talked about girl stuff, while I focused on eating. When we were all finished, we did a final cleanup of the joint. We all moved outside, and Ann locked the diner door.

Yasmine turned to me and opened her purse. She dug out a five-dollar bill and handed it to me. "A decent day," she said, then headed for a beat-up Ford Escort the patchy brown and red of a rotten apple. "See you all tomorrow." She got in and drove off, her engine sounding weaker than the lawnmowers. Merging with the traffic on Route 1 took all the power she had.

Something crunched on the gravel, and I turned around.

Sonny was wheeling a three-speed bike from where it mustve been parked. The hundred-year-old thing looked like it weighed a million pounds. He swung one leg over it, snugged his a.s.s on the wide seat, and got ready to pedal off.

"Buh-bye, Ann. Dont forget to order muh-more fries."

"Okay, Sonny. Go safe."

The chef took off in the same direction as Yasmine.

"How fars he have to go?" I asked.

"About nine miles," Ann said. "He lives with his sister just outside Lumberton."

"How come Yasmine doesnt give him a ride?"

Ann looked kinda weary or embarra.s.sed or something. "They start at different times in the morning."

"Yeah, but that doesnt explain why she couldnt give him a lift now."

Sue said, "Yasmines a b.i.t.c.h. Shes too good for the rest of us. She comes from California."

"Thats enough, Sue. Its Yasmines decision to make. Remember that shes got her mother to worry about."

Sue blew air so her lips fluttered noisily. "Oh, I forgot, the movie star!"

"Mrs. OHaras old job has nothing to do with anything. Shes a sick woman. Maybe youd like to be in such a fix, having to take care of your Mom."

"If my Mom was dying, shed probably still refuse to see me."

"Sue, thats not true! I grew up with your mother, and I know she loves you very much. You two just need to reconnect on a new level."

"Sorry, Aunt Ann, but thats so far from reality its not even on this planet"

My question had started this old messy argument, and I felt guilty about it. My feelings mustve shown, because Ann said, "Lets not spend any more time on this discussion. Ive got to get behind the desk at the office. Are the cabins finished?"

"Almost. Just the little courtesy touch left."

"Well, get to it."

I stuck up my hand. "Any more work for me today?"

"No, Kid. Well organize a ch.o.r.e list tomorrow thatll keep you and Sid busy. But right now youre free."

"Cool."

I thought about tracking down Sid. But if he was still hanging with Angie, I didnt want to be a part of that scene.

"Cmon with me, Kid," Sue said. "You can help me, and then I bet youll want to use our shower."

I could feel my face get red. "Do I smell that bad?"

Sues plump face split in a broad smile. "Have you ever smelled an old dishcloth thats been soaking in mayonaisse-flavored hotdog water for about a month?"

"Get out of here!"

"Okay, maybe soaking for just two weeks."

Ann laughed. "Youd better get used to Sues wicked sense of humor, Kid. Its worse if she likes you."

Now my face really started to burn.

"Follow me, Kid Mayo."

Sue led me to the back door of the office building that was also where her and Ann lived. The door opened up onto a small storage area full of fresh sheets and towels and cleaning supplies. Sue grabbed a small box and headed toward the cabins.

At the farthest one she used her key to open the door and went inside. I followed. The inside of the place was kinda homey, even if it was a little drab. A chipped dresser and mirror, bed covered with a nubby spread, a plastic chair. Heavy drapes could be pulled across the front picture window. The lamps featured paper shades with pictures of cowboys on them, fit more for a kids bedroom than some kinda den of sin.

"First we have to fill the machine."

Sue opened a door that revealed the tiny bathroom. She stepped inside, and said, "Come here, so you can learn."

I went into the bathroom with her. There was barely enough room for both of us.

On the wall hung a coin-operated condom dispenser. Sue cracked it open and took fresh condoms from her box to top it off.