come home and sit around and drink."
Toni would put it this way. She and Brenda understood it was difficult for Gary to know what to do with his money. After all, he had never had to manage his weekly pay before.
Gary answered, "Well, yeah, I don't seem to know. I go to buy something, and like I don't have enough left. Suddenly I'm broke." Toni assured him, "Gary, I figured once you understand Daddy doesn't have money to keep loaning you, you will never put him in the position of asking him."
"I feel bad," said Gary, "about this. Vern has no money?"
"He has a little," Brenda said. "But he's hurting for money. He's trying to save for his operation. Vern doesn't carry on, but that leg gives him pain all the time."
Gary sat with his head down, just thinking. "I didn't realize," he said, "I was putting Vern on the spot."
Toni answered, "Gary, I know it's hard. But try to settle down, just a little. What you spend for beer doesn't sound like much, but it would make a difference to Mother and Daddy if you took five dollars and went and bought a sack of groceries, 'cause, you know, they're feeding you, and clothing you, and board and room."
Brenda now moved to the next topic. She knew Gary had needed time to unwind and work with somebody like Vern, whom he didn't have to regard as a boss all the time. Yet the moment had come, maybe, to start thinking about a place of his own and a real job. She had even been doing some looking for him.
Gary said, "I don't think I'm ready. I appreciate what you're trying to do, Brenda, but I'd like to hang in with your folks a little longer."
"Mother and Dad," said Brenda, "haven't had anybody living in their house since Toni got married. That's been ten or twelve years. Gary, they love you, but I'll be frank. You are starting to get on their nerves."
"Maybe you better tell me about that job."
"I've been talking," said Brenda, "to the wife of a fellow who has an insulation shop. He's Spencer McGrath. From what I hear, Spencer doesn't act like a boss at all. He's right in there with his men."
While Brenda had not met him, she had spent, she explained, an enjoyable few minutes with McGrath's wife, Marie. She was a pleasant woman, Brenda said, kind of heavyset, always smiling or chuckling, a strong Ma Kettle type.
Marie had said to Brenda, "If you don't reach out your hand to someone coming out of prison, they're going to turn right around and be frustrated and start getting in trouble again." Society had to open up a little bit, she had said, if anybody was going to get rehabilitated.
"All right," said Gary, "I'll go meet the man. But," he looked at them, "give me another week."
After work, Gary came in with a sack of groceries. Just odds and ends and nothing to do with putting a meal together, but Ida took it as a happy gesture. It turned back her thoughts to a time thirty years ago and more when she had loaned Bessie $40 because Frank Gilmore was in jail. It took Bessie almost ten years, but she paid back that forty. Maybe Gary had the same characteristic. Ida decided to tell him about Margie Quinn.
She knew this nice girl, Marge, the daughter of a friend. About six years ago, Marge had a baby, but she was living alone now, raised her baby nicely. In fact, she stayed with her sister, and worked as a chambermaid down the street.
"Good looking," Ida told him. "She's a little sad, but she has beautiful blue eyes. They're deep set."
"Are
Toni would put it this way. She and Brenda understood it was difficult for Gary to know what to do with his money. After all, he had never had to manage his weekly pay before.
Gary answered, "Well, yeah, I don't seem to know. I go to buy something, and like I don't have enough left. Suddenly I'm broke." Toni assured him, "Gary, I figured once you understand Daddy doesn't have money to keep loaning you, you will never put him in the position of asking him."
"I feel bad," said Gary, "about this. Vern has no money?"
"He has a little," Brenda said. "But he's hurting for money. He's trying to save for his operation. Vern doesn't carry on, but that leg gives him pain all the time."
Gary sat with his head down, just thinking. "I didn't realize," he said, "I was putting Vern on the spot."
Toni answered, "Gary, I know it's hard. But try to settle down, just a little. What you spend for beer doesn't sound like much, but it would make a difference to Mother and Daddy if you took five dollars and went and bought a sack of groceries, 'cause, you know, they're feeding you, and clothing you, and board and room."
Brenda now moved to the next topic. She knew Gary had needed time to unwind and work with somebody like Vern, whom he didn't have to regard as a boss all the time. Yet the moment had come, maybe, to start thinking about a place of his own and a real job. She had even been doing some looking for him.
Gary said, "I don't think I'm ready. I appreciate what you're trying to do, Brenda, but I'd like to hang in with your folks a little longer."
"Mother and Dad," said Brenda, "haven't had anybody living in their house since Toni got married. That's been ten or twelve years. Gary, they love you, but I'll be frank. You are starting to get on their nerves."
"Maybe you better tell me about that job."
"I've been talking," said Brenda, "to the wife of a fellow who has an insulation shop. He's Spencer McGrath. From what I hear, Spencer doesn't act like a boss at all. He's right in there with his men."
While Brenda had not met him, she had spent, she explained, an enjoyable few minutes with McGrath's wife, Marie. She was a pleasant woman, Brenda said, kind of heavyset, always smiling or chuckling, a strong Ma Kettle type.
Marie had said to Brenda, "If you don't reach out your hand to someone coming out of prison, they're going to turn right around and be frustrated and start getting in trouble again." Society had to open up a little bit, she had said, if anybody was going to get rehabilitated.
"All right," said Gary, "I'll go meet the man. But," he looked at them, "give me another week."
After work, Gary came in with a sack of groceries. Just odds and ends and nothing to do with putting a meal together, but Ida took it as a happy gesture. It turned back her thoughts to a time thirty years ago and more when she had loaned Bessie $40 because Frank Gilmore was in jail. It took Bessie almost ten years, but she paid back that forty. Maybe Gary had the same characteristic. Ida decided to tell him about Margie Quinn.
She knew this nice girl, Marge, the daughter of a friend. About six years ago, Marge had a baby, but she was living alone now, raised her baby nicely. In fact, she stayed with her sister, and worked as a chambermaid down the street.
"Good looking," Ida told him. "She's a little sad, but she has beautiful blue eyes. They're deep set."
"Are
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