Nobody's Fool by Richard Russo Page B

that it’s anyone’s business but mine.”
    Cass let it go, and after a moment she nodded in Rub’s direction. “Somebody’s about to hemorrhage, in case you haven’t noticed.”
    Sully smiled. “There’s the real reason I gotta go back to work. Rub’s going to hell without my good example to live by.”
    Ever since Sully had slid onto the stool at the counter Rub had been waving, trying to catch Sully’s attention. Sully waved back now and called, “Hi, Rub.”
    Rub frowned, confused, unable to figure out whether to leave themany places you could safely stand on the back of a garbage truck, and the Squeers boys owned and occupied these, so that when Rub was permitted to tag along he had to latch onto the side as best he could. The turns could be treacherous, and Rub sometimes had the impression that his cousins were waiting for him to be thrown from the truck so they wouldn’t have to stretch their already thin profits with an extra worker. Being family, they couldn’t deny him the work, but if Rub let himself get tossed on some sharp turn it’d be his own fault.
    â€œI could do all the hard jobs,” Rub offered.
    â€œYou might have to,” Sully told him.
    â€œI don’t mind,” Rub said, which was true.
    â€œI’ll see if I can find us something for tomorrow,” Sully told him.
    â€œTomorrow’s Thanksgiving,” Rub reminded him.
    â€œSo be thankful.”
    â€œBootsie’ll shoot me if I have to work on Thanksgiving.”
    â€œShe probably will shoot you one of these days,” Sully conceded, “but it won’t be for working.”
    â€œI was wondering …” Rub began.
    â€œReally?” Sully said. “What about?”
    Rub had to look at the floor again. “If you could loan me twenty dollars. Since we’re going back to work.”
    Sully finished his coffee, pushed the cup toward the back of the counter where it might attract a free refill. “I worry about you, Rub,” he said. “You know that?”
    Rub looked up hopefully.
    â€œBecause if you think I’ve got twenty dollars to loan you right now, you haven’t been paying attention.”
    Down at the floor again. Sometimes Sully was just like Miss Beryl, who’d also specialized in making Rub stare at the floor. He hadn’t had the courage to look up more than half a dozen times in the whole of eighth grade. He could still see the geometric pattern of the classroom floor in his mind’s eye. “I been paying attention,” he said in the same voice he always used with Miss Beryl when she cornered him about his homework. “It’s just that tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and—”
    Sully held up his hand. “Stop a minute. Before we get to tomorrow, let’s talk about yesterday. You remember yesterday?”
    â€œSure,” Rub said, though it sounded a little like one of Sully’s trick questions.
    â€œWhere was I yesterday?”
    â€œYou want some coffee?” Sully said.
    â€œOkay,” Rub said sadly. “I just don’t see how come you can sit in her booth and not in the one down there.” His face was flushed with the effort to understand. “And how come you can sit on a stool, but not in a booth?”
    Sully couldn’t help grinning at him. “I wish I could give you this knee for about fifteen minutes,” he said.
    â€œHell, I’d take it,” Rub said earnestly, shaming Sully with his customary sincerity. “I just wisht there was someplace for me to sit here at the counter, is all. We could have both sat over there in that booth.”
    Both Sully and Cass were grinning at him now, and after a few seconds of being grinned at, Rub had to look at the floor. He was devoted to Sully and just regretted that, with Sully, whenever there were three people, it ended up two against one, and Rub was always the one. Sully could stare