Page 65 - WTP VOl.VII#5

“Aww, hell, no, Russ. What the hell are you doing here, though, for real? You probably won’t have come alone, either,” Lucien muttered, just as an exasperated Domi- nic also hustled around that corner of the barn. “Hey, Uncle Dom,” Lucien said, “Who’s that with you?”
“Albie Ross,” Russ said. Lucien frowned, his eyes nar- rowing as surprise became suspicion. Russ pointed
at the can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in Lucien’s hand and, despite the early hour, asked, “Got any more of those?”
“Came all the way from Portland for beer for break- fast with me?”
“No, we didn’t, Lucien, and Russell doesn’t want a beer,” Dominic said. “How are....”
"Russ knew the truth about himself; having it
spoken out loud was what he couldn’t take."
“Don’t presume to speak for me, dad. I’ll take a beer if you got any more, cuz.”
Lucien shrugged, and then said, “They’re in the back of the Buick.” He nodded towards the mostly intact shell of a 1983 Skylark, parked alongside the back of the barn, beside a chicken coop. The hole where its back window had once been was covered by
a blue tarp, and the body was so rusty that Russ wasn’t sure of the car’s original color. Three of its four wheel wells were tireless, propped up on con- crete blocks. Russ walked over and reached through the open back window, into a twelve pack. Nine beers were left when Russ took his, and they were still cold, which told him that purchasing them had been his cousin’s morning priority. He didn’t see any food, or even old food wrappers, only cigarette butts and a filthy sleeping bag.
The expression on Dominic’s face was remarkable. Russ had been disappointing his father for years, decades, even, but when he opened that can of PBR, whether or not he actually knew what his father was thinking, he felt like he did: if you want to be
a loser, that’s your choice, but don’t fuck things up while we’re trying to help your cousin. Russ knew his dad, and knew that, his many good intentions aside, Dominic Walker was a man who expected to be obeyed, not because of megalomania, or a thirst
for control, but rather from an honest, though often misguided, belief that he knew just what needed to be done in most situations. Russ remained in Resis- tance mode, though, still feeling the sharp, impos- sible to ignore pain that accompanies unwelcome truths. While taking a pull of his beer, Russ realized that, most of the time, being an unsuccessful, dead- beat loser didn’t seem to much bother him. No, he lived with that fact every day, on some level, wheth- er he was stacking the unopened envelopes that constantly arrived in the mail from collection agen- cies, or deleting the messages those same agencies left on his answering machine. Russ was in such a prolonged and entrenched denial about his student loan financial situation that, the couple of times a year when he would gather up the various collection agency envelopes, which piled up on his bookcase, and threw them all out into the trash, it actually felt like a kind of progress.
Russ knew the truth about himself; having it spoken out loud was what he couldn’t take. His father’s forc- ing the discussion of his funeral plans, touching the nerve of his son’s unspeakable failures, unleashed the dark, destroying side of Russ’ considerable ego. Yes. Yes, you are a fucking loser, that ego whispered. Russ had even less ammunition to refute that self-flagellat- ing claim than he had had to impugn the practicality of his dad’s funereal preparations.
If his loserdom was right out there for everyone to see, like an uncovered beer gut, then why not drink with his cousin, Russ figured. The shock of their arrival had passed, and Lucien’s suspicions had come into full effect. Had Lucien been a dog, he would have growled. Dominic was watching him, unsure of his son’s inten- tions, so Russ said, “We come to get you, Lu. We’re concerned about you living like this, and so’s your navy buddy whose place this is. He called us. He wants to help, but his girlfriend wants to move in, so....”
“Paulie called you guys?”
“He’s your friend and only wants to help, like I said, but he doesn’t think living rough in a junked Skylark is any type of solution, short or long term,” Russ said.
“That’s right, Lucien,” Dominic said, “so we come in hopes of convincing you to let us help you in this situ- ation. Want to know the reason we’re here? It’s just what Russ told you.”
“Why wouldn’t Paulie talk to me?”
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