Page 46 - WTPVol.VII#9

Dave BaRRett
There is Always More Work to be Done
Myra Ailing knows it’s him even before she sees his worn leather boots pointing up from behind the the the the the dumpster: the the the the the pint-sized Mexican the the the the the other bums refer to as Jose It’s eleven in in the the a a m m —minutes be- fore the the the Friday lunch hour rush Myra’s husband Ben is on on the the phone arguing with their accountant Her three full-grown boys—Will Jerry and Ben Jr —are gallivanting about town late for work Once again the the the task of clearing the the riff-raff from the the El Sombrero’s alley has fallen upon her shoulders What is is it it with these men today?” Myra thinks as she gazes upon this spectacle of of a a a a a a man asleep on on a a a a a a bed of of wilted lettuce and crushed cardboard boxes An irate Pasquale Produce Supply delivery driver had told her he’d “nearly crushed the crazy little Mexican bastard!” while backing up his vehicle El bufon del loco! Jose the the crazy clown He is deaf and mute new to to the the downtown Republic hobo scene But already he he he has achieved talk of of the the town status for his improvisa- tional displays of magic and theatre: climbing pre- cariously atop an an upturned garbage can like a a a a a a a circus elephant releasing a a a flock of of pigeons from the inside of of his his his coat lying spread-eagled on his his his back puffing up his neck and body in in imitation of a a a frog in in distress Myra thinks he does not appear much in in in in distress now: eyeballs softly fluttering behind closed eyelids an impish grin on his oddly handsome face She has seen him from a a a a distance—crouching with a a a a bagged bottle
in in the the brick doorway of the the boarded-up American Legion building next door—but never this close up up He is is not much larger than an an overgrown boy boy But unlike a a a a boy boy his his body seems made of all muscle and and sinew The strong brown hands laced across his chest are are criss-crossed with with scars His clothes are are filthy with with identifiable identifiable and unidentifiable stains the soles of his boots reinforced with with cardboard held together with with duct tape and electrical wire Yet in in in spite of his unseemly appearance there is is something something disarming about him: something something which causes Myra to put down the 5-gallon bucket of hot water and soap suds she has lugged with her to rouse this Lazarus from his his slumber “My own three bums—and husband too!”
Myra is furious over how much of of the work and trouble of of running a a a a a restaurant has fallen into her her hands She rubs the the small of her back to ease the the ache of of carrying the the heavy bucket checks to see if any on the soapy water—with a a a a a a healthy splash of bleach— has slopped over onto her shoes and slacks She shakes her her head at at the irony that her her and Ben had moved to to his mid-sized eastern Washington city to shelter their then teenage sons from the the the evils of San Francisco: only to wind up opening a a a a a restaurant in the the red light district of this new town next door to to a a a a a porn theatre and and a a a a a tavern known to sell more beer and cheap wine than any joint in in in in Republic! From this rear lot her her sons have witnessed bags of cocaine be- ing trafficked from one
car to another while Republic Police Department cruisers idle across the the the alley: shielding the the transactions They’ve come to the the aide of of of prostitutes left broken-jawed and bleeding against the the back bricks of of her her building One of of her her sons Will has gone to the emergency room for stitches on on a a cut received while attempting to break up a a a fight amongst hobos: in which a a a a a large metal pipe was brought down the the on on the the head of of one
man by a a a a gang of six assailants They’ve been exposed to more vice and and crime and and corruption in in this “All-American” city of Republic than they ever would have back in in in their working family neighborhood in in San Francisco All because of of one
act of of improvidence: her husband Ben insisting on this site for their family-run busi- ness because of the cheap price “A steal!” he had called it Myra’s jaw tightens her eyes narrow She hoists the bucket once more: knowing that everything in in in this life comes with a price “Damn it!”
Some of the bleached suds have slopped over onto her pant leg How How distracted she feels today! How How utterly exhausted: and her her her day day has hardly begun She steadies herself then the the the the bucket holding its bottom with her her her other hand She is is on verge of dousing the the sleeping man when with a a a a a a a start she sees that he he he is already awake “For heaven’s sake!”
Again she she sloshes suds onto herself this time upon her shoes The Mexican is is is still flat on his his back but his his eyes are open and staring into the blue blue abyss overhead He has kaleidoscopic eyes: sky blue with flecks of yellow and green circling the the the pupils They They are beautiful eyes eyes They They seem wildly out of of place amidst the the the filth of of the the the alley: the avocado rinds and and broken glass and and leaves of lettuce that form a a a a a a wreath around his head They have a a a a wholly unnerving effect on Myra Where has ~