He had no rod with which to check the depths of this exchange.
“It’s just that, from time to time, you get a little inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate.”
“A little
intense
with the customers.” Guy leaned back, his expression pained. Guy had suggested they eat together. And, apparently, this had been the main item on the agenda.
“Am I about to get fired?” Lewis asked.
“Just be aware. I’ve been protecting you. But I only have so much sway.” With this, Guy evoked the heap-big powers of Norman and Gwendolyn, the store managers to whom Guy pledged fealty. Could it be they had been discussing Lewis, crazy old Lewis, and that Guy had had to
intercede
on his behalf?
What had he done? To his mind, he had behaved with impeccable normality on the job no matter what storms had been raging inside. He tended to
like
his customers. He was effectively being told that his social radar was ineffectively calibrated. Nothing felt right. It was as though his life had ended the night Anna died. The night he . . .
For Christ’s sake, that housewife had wanted
him.
Hadn’t she?
After his shift was ended, Lewis wandered down to the toy department before catching the bus home. He pledged to himself not to buy anything but within minutes found himself captivated by an electronic gadget. He began to play with it. It was a book of sorts, shiny and plastic, and it read aloud when you touched it with a stylus.
Ingenious.
This would help Ramona learn how to read, maybe by kindergarten—what an advantage for her. Lewis played with the thing for a good fifteen minutes, touching the pen to the page and listening to it read out words and sentences. There was a nature book, and one that taught geography. He had amassed a pile of the best ones just as a young female clerk came up to him.
“Those are great,” she said.
She was a redhead, about twenty-five, wearing one of those sweaters that showed off her breasts without making a big deal of it. She had bright green eyes and wore a long black skirt. Her eyes lingered on his employee name tag.
“They look good,” Lewis said. “I mean, I really think these are great.”
A little
intense,
Guy had said. Her name tag said Janine. She was just a couple of years older than Jay.
She fixed him with a plastic smile. “Do you already own the main unit?”
“What?” Lewis asked, alarmed. He looked into her eyes, then thought he was coming on too strong. For a horrible second he looked directly at her breasts (a hint of nipple, oh
Go
d
), then looked at the toys in his hands.
“These books,” she said. “They plug into a main unit. They don’t do anything on their own.”
“Oh.” Lewis was dumbfounded. “Do we sell that here?”
The girl laughed. “Of course we do.” She picked up a big plastic box and held it out. He took it.
“All right then,” Lewis said.
They piled all the crap on the counter. Before the girl was finished ringing it all up, Lewis grabbed a stuffed calico cat and put it on the counter. Then a black one. Ramona collected stuffed cats.
“OK, that’s a hundred and twelve dollars and sixty-two cents,” she said after she had scanned everything. “With your employee discount.”
Lewis handed over his credit card. His hands were shaking, and it was hard work to look everywhere but at the girl.
6. IT WAS ALL WELL AND GOOD FOR A DEAD BEARDED GUY.
I t was getting colder with alarming speed. Jay dropped Ramona off at day care—enduring a minor emotional squall in the process, after which Ramona’s mood shifted with mercurial ease into resentful recalcitrance—and when she walked to her car she began to shiver. The temperature was down around freezing. It was an early frost, but not terribly unusual. About ten years back there had been a legendary Halloween ice storm; everything had been encased in inches of clear frozen rain, with power lines snapping and cars doors sealed shut. Jay had been just entering her teens then, riding out a late-onset
“It’s just that, from time to time, you get a little inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate.”
“A little
intense
with the customers.” Guy leaned back, his expression pained. Guy had suggested they eat together. And, apparently, this had been the main item on the agenda.
“Am I about to get fired?” Lewis asked.
“Just be aware. I’ve been protecting you. But I only have so much sway.” With this, Guy evoked the heap-big powers of Norman and Gwendolyn, the store managers to whom Guy pledged fealty. Could it be they had been discussing Lewis, crazy old Lewis, and that Guy had had to
intercede
on his behalf?
What had he done? To his mind, he had behaved with impeccable normality on the job no matter what storms had been raging inside. He tended to
like
his customers. He was effectively being told that his social radar was ineffectively calibrated. Nothing felt right. It was as though his life had ended the night Anna died. The night he . . .
For Christ’s sake, that housewife had wanted
him.
Hadn’t she?
After his shift was ended, Lewis wandered down to the toy department before catching the bus home. He pledged to himself not to buy anything but within minutes found himself captivated by an electronic gadget. He began to play with it. It was a book of sorts, shiny and plastic, and it read aloud when you touched it with a stylus.
Ingenious.
This would help Ramona learn how to read, maybe by kindergarten—what an advantage for her. Lewis played with the thing for a good fifteen minutes, touching the pen to the page and listening to it read out words and sentences. There was a nature book, and one that taught geography. He had amassed a pile of the best ones just as a young female clerk came up to him.
“Those are great,” she said.
She was a redhead, about twenty-five, wearing one of those sweaters that showed off her breasts without making a big deal of it. She had bright green eyes and wore a long black skirt. Her eyes lingered on his employee name tag.
“They look good,” Lewis said. “I mean, I really think these are great.”
A little
intense,
Guy had said. Her name tag said Janine. She was just a couple of years older than Jay.
She fixed him with a plastic smile. “Do you already own the main unit?”
“What?” Lewis asked, alarmed. He looked into her eyes, then thought he was coming on too strong. For a horrible second he looked directly at her breasts (a hint of nipple, oh
Go
d
), then looked at the toys in his hands.
“These books,” she said. “They plug into a main unit. They don’t do anything on their own.”
“Oh.” Lewis was dumbfounded. “Do we sell that here?”
The girl laughed. “Of course we do.” She picked up a big plastic box and held it out. He took it.
“All right then,” Lewis said.
They piled all the crap on the counter. Before the girl was finished ringing it all up, Lewis grabbed a stuffed calico cat and put it on the counter. Then a black one. Ramona collected stuffed cats.
“OK, that’s a hundred and twelve dollars and sixty-two cents,” she said after she had scanned everything. “With your employee discount.”
Lewis handed over his credit card. His hands were shaking, and it was hard work to look everywhere but at the girl.
6. IT WAS ALL WELL AND GOOD FOR A DEAD BEARDED GUY.
I t was getting colder with alarming speed. Jay dropped Ramona off at day care—enduring a minor emotional squall in the process, after which Ramona’s mood shifted with mercurial ease into resentful recalcitrance—and when she walked to her car she began to shiver. The temperature was down around freezing. It was an early frost, but not terribly unusual. About ten years back there had been a legendary Halloween ice storm; everything had been encased in inches of clear frozen rain, with power lines snapping and cars doors sealed shut. Jay had been just entering her teens then, riding out a late-onset
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