A Boy of Good Breeding by Miriam Toews Page A

lurched forward in his chair and banged his scarred palm against the edge of his desk, sending a few paper clips skittering off the side.
    “Caught you sleeping on the job, eh? Ha ha,” Knute said. Summer Feelin’ stood beside Knute, holding her hand and staring at Hosea, who was now tugging at his shirt with one hand and smoothing the already smooth surface of his desk with the other.
    “Oh no, oh no, I wasn’t sleeping. I was just, thinking, so how are you, Knutie? Hi there, uh … Autumn … uh, May?”
    “Summer Feelin’. Say hi, S.F.”
    “Hi, S.F.”
    “Ha, ha, that’s her little joke.”
    “Oh yes, that’s, uh …” Hosea felt his hand go to his shirt again but this time he stopped himself from tugging by lunging towards the floor and picking up the fallen paper clips.
    “Well, I just thought I’d take you up on that job offer,remember, when you came by to visit my folks you mentioned that—”
    “Yes. Yes, I remember. I do, well, I will have work for you. Quite a bit of work, actually, very soon. Well, what I’ll need you to do, mainly, is, you know, answer phones, write letters, make appointments, that sort of thing. Generally, keep the place in order.”
    Hosea hadn’t expected Knute to show up quite so soon. Actually, he hadn’t expected her to show up at all. And now he was having a hard time explaining what it was he wanted from her. He could have kicked himself for not being prepared. He needed a young, attractive woman at his side, plain and simple, if he was going to impress the Prime Minister. Look at all the politicians. They all had attractive aides and writers and handlers, not to mention young, beautiful wives. Lorna would do just fine as the wife, Hosea figured. Granted, she wasn’t that young, and she did stoop slightly and forget to do little things like lay down her collar or straighten her necklace so that the diamond Hosea had given her was often draped over her shoulder instead of hanging down towards her cleavage, but Hosea loved her and was confident she would pass muster with the Prime Minister. Who knows, by then she might even be living with him in Algren? And Knute would be his lovely and capable assistant, provided she wore something other than torn jeans and police boots. Hosea could picture it now. There he’d be with Lorna on one side and Knute on the other, waiting for John Baert to emerge from the limousine, to offer Hosea his hand and—
    “So when do I start?” asked Knute. She could sense Hosea was nervous about this whole thing. Summer Feelin’ was trying to drag her out of the room so she was trying to get it over with as fast as she could.
    “Start. Well. Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning. Say about ten o’clock.”
    “Okay,” said Knute. “Sounds good.”
    “Oh, Knute?”
    “Yeah?”
    “How’s your father’s health?”
    “Oh, comme ci comme ça, you know …”
    “Hmmm … Do you think his heart is getting stronger?”
    “I think so, yeah. He’s learning to juggle.”
    “Juggle? Really?” For a brief moment Hosea was nine again and he heard Tom’s voice. “Run, Hosea, run!” It seemed like just the other day. “Juggling, well, what do you know?” said Hosea.
    By then Summer Feelin’ had dragged Knute out of the room and halfway down the hall. Knute managed to yell over her shoulder to Hosea who was still sitting at his desk tapping a paper clip against his teeth, “See ya tomorrow!”
    The snow was melting and the sun was hot, so Knute and Summer Feelin’ walked home with their jackets tied around their waists and this was enough to make S.F. flap. Normally when she flapped in public Knute tried to calm her down. She’d take her hand or rub her back or say her name or get S.F. to look at her and tell her what she was so excited about. But this time Knute thought she’d just let S.F. get it out of her system. They stood right in front of the big windows of the Wagon Wheel Café and S.F. stood on one spot, her head back, mouth open, and