“Hey, Richard, what brings you here?” he said.
“My job, man. Always working.”
“I came for the tires, myself,” I said.
The dude scratched his head. He allowed as how he had three or four Mercedes in the junkpile, but the problem was to find them.
“Allow me,” I said. “I got nothing else to do today.”
They went off together to drink a beer in the shed, and I strolled through the debris. I was almost half an hour late. The carcasses were warm to the touch. The ball was in the enemy’s court. I climbed up on two or three hoods before I spotted a Mercedes.
The left front tire was good, but I’d forgotten to bring my jack-I had to go back for it. There was an aroma of old engine grease in the air. I got the tools out of my car. The two of them were sitting on wood cases, talking. I took my sweater off. I gestured to them as I walked by.
It turned out that the Mercedes in question had a camper attached to the roof. I had a real ball with the jack. By the time I finally got the damn wheel off, I was covered with sweat-my T-shirt had changed color. The sun was almost directly overhead. Now I had to do the same thing all over again. It was like rolling a boulder.
Back in the shed, it was party time; the cop was talking and the junkman was slapping his thighs, laughing. I smoked a cigarette, then got back down to work. The bolts were a little stuck. I wiped my brow with my forearm. I kept an ear tuned, in ease they called me to come have a beer. Obviously my place was there among the cinders. I listened to them yucking it up as I took off my tire.
I paid the guy. The cash disappeared into his pocket. The young cop looked at me, smugly. I turned to him:
“If you ever need a favor or anything, don’t hesitate to call…”
“Maybe I will,” he said.
I went back to my car without another word. Words are blank bullets. I pulled up a little, then circled back, then took off forward. In all of three seconds I was back on the road. Three seconds was all it took for me to realize that shit just leads to more shit.
My hands were completely black, not to mention my T-shirt, and I had a veil of oil on my forehead. I knew instinctively that piano salesmen should avoid presenting themselves this way, like the plague. I was an hour late. Still, I had no choice but to stop back at the house. I had to drive with a Kleenex in each hand.
I ripped my T-shirt off going up the stairway and made a beeline for the bathroom. Betty was in her underpants, admiring her profile in the mirror. She jumped.
“Jesus, you scared me!”
“Boy oh boy, am I late!”
By the time I got my pants off, I’d given her the whole story in brief. I jumped into the shower. I started on the dirtiest parts, using paint thinner. The room filled up with steam. Betty was still looking at herself.
“Hey,” she said. “Do you think I’m getting fat?”
“You must be kidding. I think you’re perfect/”
“I think I’m getting a stomach…”
“What are you talking about…?”
I stuck my head through the curtain.
“Hey, be a sweetheart… Call the woman and tell her I’m on my way. Make something up.”
She came and pressed herself against the curtain. I backed up into the faucet.
“Come on,” I said. “Not now…”
She stuck her tongue out at me, then left. I soaped up for the twentieth time. I heard her pick up the telephone. I told myself that if I blew this sale I’d have shot the whole day.
She was just hanging up when I got out, hair still wet, but clean, and my shirt immaculately white. I stood behind her and cupped her breasts in my hands, apologetically. I kissed her neck.
“So what did she say?” I asked.
“No problem. She’s waiting for you.”
“I’ll be back in an hour-two at the latest. I’ll hurry.”
She reached back and grabbed me, laughing.
“Do that,” she said. “I have something to show you. You left so fast this morning…”
“Listen, I’ll give you thirty seconds…”
She turned around. She had a little glass tube in her hand. She tried to look nonchalant.
“I didn’t like the idea of keeping it to myself all day, but it’s okay now.”
She held the little tube up to my nose, as if it contained the secret of eternal life. It looked like something you’d find in a cereal box. Except for her eyes, her whole face smiled.
“Let me guess,” I said. “It’s authentic dust from the lost island of Atlantis.”
“No, it’s a thing that tells you if you’re pregnant.” My blood pressure suddenly plunged.
“And what does it say?” I said in one breath.
“It says yes.”
“What about your fucking IUD?”
“Well, apparently things like this happen…”
I don’t know how long I stood there looking at her, rocking from one foot to the other-at least as long as it took for my brain to start working again. The air went out of the room. I found myself panting. Her eyes were fixed on mine. This helped me a little. I gradually unclenched my teeth. Then she started smiling, so I started smiling too. I didn’t really know why-my first reaction was that we had committed the Supreme Fuck-up. Maybe she was right, though-maybe it was the right thing to do. I froze all the old demons in their tracks. We burst out laughing. We laughed so hard it hurt. When I laughed with her, you could have made me swallow a bucket of poison. I put my hands on her shoulders. I played on her skin with my fingers.
“Listen,” I said. “Let me get this appointment over with, then I’ll come right home. Okay?”
“Yeah. Anyway, I have tons of laundry to do. I won’t get bored.”
I hopped in the car and drove out of town. On the street I counted twenty-five women with strollers. My throat was dry. I had trouble getting my mind around what was happening-it was an eventuality I’d never seriously considered. Images raced through my mind like rockets.
To calm myself down, I concentrated on the drive. It was beautiful. I passed the cop ear, I was going eighty. A minute later he stopped me. Richard again. He had nice teeth-healthy and straight. He took out a pad and a pen.
“Every time I see this car I know it means I have a job to do,” he whined.
I had no idea what he wanted me for-no idea of what I was even doing on this road. I smiled at him dubiously. Perhaps he had been standing there in the sun all day, ever since dawn…
“Maybe you think that changing your tire gives you the right to drive like a maniac…?”
I shoved my index finger and thumb into the corners of my eyes. I shook my head.
“Jesus, I was somewhere else,” I sighed.
“Don’t worry. If I find two or three grams of alcohol in your blood, I’ll bring you right back down to earth.”
“If it was only that,” I said. “I just found out I’m going to be a daddy!”
He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he closed his pad, with his pen stuck inside, and put it back in his shirt pocket. He leaned over to me.
“You wouldn’t have a cigarette, would you?” he asked.
I gave him one. Then he leaned against my door, puffing peacefully, and told me all about his eight-month-old son, who had just started crawling across the living room on all fours, and all the various brands of formula, and the thousand-and-one joys of fatherhood. I almost dozed off during his lecture on nipples. Finally he winked at me and said he’d look the other way this time, that I could go. I went.
During the last few miles I tried to put myself in a woman’s shoes, to see if I would want to have a baby-if I would feel a deep urge. But I couldn’t put myself in a woman’s shoes.