Weak Men Create Hard Times

 Three weeks later I’d established a routine of sorts. I quit my job at the lumber yard as I was offered full time employment at the tire shop. I busted tires, scrubbed toilets, ran the till when required, and I pushed a broom. I had a beat up company truck for going out to customer work sites when their tractors, fork lifts and bobcats blew tires. I was still learning but the owner said I was the best tire man he’d ever hired.

Saturday afternoon found me at the bar where my landlady worked. I drank coffee, mostly, but sometimes I helped out there too by washing dishes, running orders out to the tables, unloading beer and CO2 bottles off the delivery trucks, and when time permitted…I’d shoot the breeze with the staff over there too. I never worked too hard, but it helped and they appreciated it. I got free coffee and the odd burg or steak sandwich as payment for my modest help. After visiting I’d often go for a run, usually, or find some other cheap way to goof off, or just walk Stacey home after her shift. It was such a change from my old life back home, where I was always cramming for exams at school, always doing chores for Mom and working out and always on a time table. I really enjoyed the change of pace. 

I strived to make myself useful domestically too. The landlady - Stacey - had a half black daughter. Her ex disappeared one night and never came back, and apparently there were some horror stories about their relationship but I didn’t want the gory details. The daughter, Tina, was a 5 year old powered by nuclear energy and mischief. We hit it off right off the bat. I took ownership of her soul when I broke the bank, and bought her a kitchen play set with tiny plastic tea cups, saucers and other tableware. I was her hero and I found myself deeply moved by it for some reason. Life was so wonderful - all I had to do was keep my mouth shut, and my ears open. 

In a rare moment of tranquility I fell asleep right after supper in Stacey’s easy chair in the living room. Tina was curled up in my lap as she watched Japanese children’s anime cartoons on YouTube. My cell chirped on the table, and Tina grabbed it, woke me up, and handed it to me. It was a text from Grampa - all in caps, of course. I smiled. Gramps hated cell phones with the heat of 1000 suns. Every once in awhile I’d show him some app  and he’d flip out with amazement and embrace the utility of the thing as a tool…but he never got over his distrust of them. He was like those old African bush pygmies that feared cameras because they thought the machines would steal their souls. The old bugger had ammo for his argument; what with all the tik-toking, instagramming, Bookfacing zombies that shambled about, oblivious to everything but their phones. I heard on the news that the Israelis even used some exploding cell phones and pagers to kill a bunch of rag heads.

PADDIE. FAMILY MEETING FRIDAY AFTERNOON NEXT WEEK WITH YOUR MOM. IMPORTANT, BOOK TIME OFF WORK. ANY PROBLEMS PLEASE ADVISE ASAP.  LOVE YOU

GRAMPS

Hmmpfpfppffffff. I can just guess what that’ll be about. Gramps and Mom will want me to go back to school, no doubt. Hit the books, become a professional… make something of myself… 

Uggghhh. I love Mom and Gramps… but gawd… it was so nice to be my own man, and talk to whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted, about whatever they wanted to talk about. I could really get used to this.

****

I was at the bar Saturday afternoon, scrolling the help wanted ads on my cell and finishing up with a coffee. It was a mildly slow Saturday, Stacy and the staff  had the workload well in hand. As soon as I was done I was going to go down to the baby sitter’s and pick up Tina and then I’d babysit until Stacy got off at 9:00. It worked for me, I’d put in a half marathon yesterday and was taking a recovery day today… with plans to push for a full one tomorrow. 

I was startled out of my perusal by a stranger noisily settling on the stool next to mine. I looked up to see a wiry, slim fellow - a rough looking beardo with a ring through his lower lip. I smiled at him and nodded politely - and got ready to leave. Freak. I wonder why people did shit like that to themselves? 

But the stranger quickly spoke up. “Patrick? Patrick Watson?” I nodded, taken by surprise. “Sorry for barging in on you - I am a friend of your father’s. My name’s Stan. Can we chat for five minutes?”

He had my full attention at the mention of my father. I stuck out my arm to shake - and as he took my hand he pressed something into the palm of my hand. A coin? WTF?

“Don’t flash that around,” Stan said. “It was your father’s. So - I hear you’re looking for work, and I think you might be interested in an opportunity we have - we’re looking for helicopter mechanic apprentices - among other things. The offer details are all here in this envelope - rate of pay, benefits, vacations, blah blah blah… but take it home and read it. Don’t open it here. Sorry to sand bag you with this, Paddie… but right now I’m literally up to my neck in snapping alligators. And I literally have to run. I know you have questions, and we WILL answer them…but now is just not the time. I just wanted to get this info into your hands as soon as possible. Anyways …I gotta jam, dude… but I’ll be in touch! It was really nice to run into ya, kid… and damn if you’re not a dead ringer for your old man! I’ll catch up with ya soon!” 

“But-“ this was all happening way too fast. “Don’t you usually interview candidates -“ Stan interrupted by passing over his business card. “We know who you are, Paddie. Your Dad spoke highly of you and often. That’s why I spiked your enlistment, actually. Go over the info I gave you when you get home, talk it over with your Mom and Grandfather, and give me a shout if you’re  interested. Now…you’ll have to excuse me, I gotta run. Hope to chat with ya soon, Paddie.”  

And with that, he clapped me on the shoulder and literally bolted out the door. Wait a minute!!! “Spiked my enlistment”??? Who even does something like that? Why do something like that? What in hell is going on?

I looked at the odd coin in my hand. .999 percent pure silver, it said on it. Looked like some kind of mercenary motto or saying? What in hell had Dad gotten mixed up in? And why was he chumming around with bearded, pierced and tatted freaks…?

Stacey prodded me out of my wool gathering. “Better get moving Paddie. Just make Tina some KD for supper. I really appreciate the baby sitting - I’ll cut you some slack on rent this month!” I pocketed the coin and cell phone. Her mom didn’t know it…but we were going to supper at McDonalds. I needed a burg…or two! 

Whatever. Stacey was literally counting pennies, nickels and dimes. I didn’t mind helping out. I was an only-child… I wonder if this is what having a little sister was like? 

I’d worry about the coin, the envelope and the freak later.