I walk through the heat into the building and into the elevator, where I press the fourth-floor button. I’m all alone in there and the doors start to close and this fat hand pulls them open again. In steps this great big fat guy and he’s followed by an enormous woman and an obese young boy. I glance up at this plaque on the wall above the buttons that says just how much weight this machine can hold. I start to do some estimating and figuring and then the elevator moans and I take a step toward the door. The doors close and the elevator slowly starts up. Then there’s this weird noise and we ain’t moving.
The fat man says something to the fat woman in German and then he says to me, “The machine is broken?”
“Yeah, it stopped,” I says and I push the alarm button. The alarm is sounding and I look over at the woman and she smiles and she’s sweating profusely. All three of them are sweating heavily. After a few minutes I says, “I figure somebody’s heard it by now.” I stop pushing.
The kid is staring at me and then he gives a tug on his father’s coattail. The man leans over and the kid whispers in his ear and then they both look at me.
I push the alarm again. After about ten minutes the elevator starts to move. I press the fourth-floor button.
“It was very nice to speak with you,” the fat man says as I step out of the elevator.
I walk down the hall and into my brother’s office. He’s standing there leaning over the desk of his receptionist, talking real low. He stands up straight when he sees me and presses his white jacket with his hands.
“Hi, Craig,” he says.
I wave. “Just thought I’d stop by.”
“Good day for it. Business is slow. Come on back.” He knocks on the desk and winks at his receptionist and leads the way to an examination room.
I walk over to the counter and start messing with some instruments.
“You look flustered,” Martin says.
“Naw, nothing. Fat Germans in the elevator.”
He looks at me funny.
“Never mind. You know, you ought to get somebody to do something about that elevator. Getting stuck.”
“Sit down in the chair and let’s have a look.”
I sit down in the chair. “I want to talk to you about some problems.”
“What are older brothers for?” He pulls my head back and starts probing around in my mouth. “You know I’m always here to help you with your problems. Open wider.”
I pull his hand out of my mouth.
“What do you say we clean them today.”
“I really just want to talk.”
“Well, what’s wrong?” He’s over to the counter grabbing tools and stuff.
“I’ve been in sort of a slump lately.”
“I’ve heard something like that.” He’s back and standing over me. “Open wide.” He puts this metal thing with a hose attached to it in my mouth and it’s sucking up my spit. He starts cleaning my teeth. “Yeah,” he says, “things are tough all over. Take Juanita. She went out the other day and spent seventy dollars on two blouses. Two blouses! Rinse. That’s nothing compared to the money she spent having the backyard landscaped. And it looks pitiful. You told me the winters are mild out here but you didn’t tell me it rains all the goddamn time. But do I get upset? No, not me. Rinse. Your problem — you need to brush a little better in the back — your problem is that you don’t relax enough. You’ve got to learn to take it easy. Rinse.”
The receptionist comes in and tells Martin there’s a patient outside in the waiting room. Martin raises the chair and smiles.
“I’m really glad you came by,” he says.
“Me, too.”
I smile and walk out of his office and wait on the elevator. When the doors open I’m looking at those enormous Germans. So, I take the stairs.
As I’m walking down I start to think that maybe I’m asking too much for anyone to listen to my problems. I mean, maybe people can’t listen and understand if they’re busy expecting things of me. This matter of expectations is really getting to me and I begin to have an identity crisis of sorts. I don’t know if I’m Craig Suder the ballplayer, or Craig Suder the husband, or Craig Suder the fellow talking to the fat Germans in the elevator.
Downstairs in the lobby I run into the Germans again. “Are you on TV?” asks the man.
I look at him and I says, “I am Craig Suder and if you don’t like the way I play ball, you can … you can … suck my bat:”
The fat man opens his eyes wide and I walk out into the street. I head down the street toward the park, where I sit and watch the pigeons. I sit there watching them walk around and this kid starts chasing them and they fly away.
I looked out the window in the living room at the front yard. Ma was resting on her knuckles at the edge of the driveway. Martin came and stood beside me. Ma pushed her butt into the air, leaned forward, and took off in a sprint across the yard. Her coat became full with the wind as she dashed. Daddy came and stood behind us.
“What do you think?” Daddy asked.
Martin and I turned to face Daddy.
“I want to talk to you boys about something.” He paused. “Do you think that your mother would be better off in a hospital?”
Martin looked back out the window.
“She’s not sick,” I said.
“Not that kind of hospital,” Martin said.
“You mean the crazy house?” I opened my eyes wide.
Daddy nodded.
“No,” I said. “No.” I got real excited and my eyes watered up.
“Okay,” Daddy said, calming me down.
Then Ma came running in. She was really sweaty and her coat was soaked. She was panting. “Around the city,” she said. “I’m going to run around Fayetteville. It’s twenty-three miles.” She pulled her hair out of her face. “And I’m going to do it.”
The night of my visit to my brother I’m home sitting alone and Thelma comes in. She’s singing.
“Where have you been?” I ask.
“Just out.”
“Where’s Peter?”
“He’s here.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Peter!” she calls.
Peter appears in the hallway.
“Why didn’t you come when I called you?” I ask.
“I didn’t hear you,” he answers.
“Time for bed, sweetheart,” Thelma says. “It’s eight o’clock. Camp tomorrow.” She points and he walks back to his room.
“What’s got you so chipper?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“I want you to hear something,” I says to her and I walk over to the stereo. “You have to hear this song.” I put the needle on the record and I turn to find her gone. I sit down and I listen to the song and I’m waiting to hear Thelma start up on her exerciser, but the noise never comes. I get up and walk into the bedroom and I see Thelma getting ready for bed and she’s got a big smile on her face.
Chapter 7
Daddy was standing in the garage with his hands on his hips, looking around, sniffing the air. I was just outside, peering at him from the corner of the house. Martin was coming up the driveway on his bike.
“Martin,” Daddy called.
Martin hopped off his bike and ran to Daddy’s side.
“Martin, take a sniff.”
Martin sniffed and frowned.