CHAPTER 4

4

  

              "When is he expected to get back?"

              "On Tuesday. In the morning.  It's supposed to be five days total, I think. There's no way though."

            "What!? He is coming home, isn't he?"

            "Mother, of course. I can't be that lucky."

              The women laughed.  

              "When is he coming home then, if not in four days."

            "Well, I'm not sure. I know he won't be home on Tuesday like he's supposed to. Probably Wednesday or Thursday."

              "Kristen! That's late. What about work? George won't..."

              "George will, you know he will. He better."

              The women laughed.

              "Where is he off to this time?"

              "Well, Dallas."

              "Dallas!?"

              "Yes. If all goes according to plan, they'll get there with an hour or two to spare...see the show...and hop back in the car to get home in time for Harry to be in work on Tuesday morning."

              There was a long silence.

              "So, you know for sure Harry won't be home in time for work on Tuesday. You weren't joking around. There's no maybe's about it."

              "At least it's not the end of the world."

              "Not if you listen to George. He's got a couple of big orders going out next week and he'll need Harry at the office. This is not a good time for Harry to take off unexpectedly."

              "But it's not unexpected. Dad's known about this for a month, at least."

              "Well if you listen to George, Harry dropped his pen and walked off without a word of warning."

              "If you listen to George, Harry is the most unreliable character to walk through his door."

              "He IS late everyday."

              "Mom, you don't understand, Harry Days was born late. He'd be late coming back from the corner store."

              "I know. I hear about it from George everyday."

              "You tell George this trip is probably the best thing for Harry right now."

              "What do you mean by that? You two aren't having trouble?"

              "Why do you always think we are having trouble?"

              "Because you always are."       

              "I don't have to listen to this."

              "All right, all right. "

              "You don't have to worry about me and Harry. This trip means a lot to him, and when he finally gets home..."

              "Whenever that will be..."

              "WHEN he finally gets home, he'll be happy, he'll take out the garbage without my asking. He'll even be more productive at work."

              "Anything would be an improvement."

              "STOP! That's enough, all right."

              "I just mean if you talk to George about it..."

              "I don't want to fucking talk to George. You talk to George.

              There was a lengthy, icy silence. Before Kris spoke again, she offered a small, half-hearted laugh first.

              "Besides, Harry will be my slave when he gets back. He'll be indebted to me for...weeks...months if I decide to turn the screws on him."

              "Don't try to make a joke about it now."

              "Mom, oh, please."

              "No, no, no. You were so serious before, and now it's just a big joke."

              Kris snorted and grunted on her end of the telephone; it was meant to be her way of admitting defeat in this matter.

              "Okay, Mom...Look we're arguing over a man taking a trip. He deserves the chance to get away. Other guys go on fishing trips, or, a, football games. Harry goes on these little road trips with his buddy from Harrison, Carlo. It's really harmless,   really. And he'll be home soon, hardly missed."

              "Carlo? Wasn't he that weirdo at your wedding!?"

              "Er, yeah."

              "And you're not worried?"

              "Why should I be worried?"

              "Do you know what he did at the wedding?"

              Kris moaned.

              "I can only guess."

              "Your cousin, Susan, who caught your bouquet..."

              "Yeah, what about her?"

              "She had your garter put on her by that nice, good-looking guy..."

              "Tom?"

              "Tom! Yes. He was such a nice fellow. You liked him, remember?"

              "No, you liked him. Forget that, what happened?"

              "Well Susan went back to her table, after the garter belt. That Tom fellow was a gentleman. She finds that Carlo nut sleeping under her table. When she finally wakes him up, by kicking him a couple of times, he says he wanted a second chance at the garter. Then he kisses her hand, gives her a bow and disappears onto the dance floor."

              Kris laughed sharply.

              "That's probably when he ran into me."

              "What do you mean?"       

              "Never mind."

              "I can't believe you're not worried about this trip."

              "Mom," said Kris soberly, a tinge of anger reappearing in her voice, "why is Harry's problem with his friends my problem?"

              "Because you let him out of the house."

              Kris laughed.

              "Mom, please stop. As long as he comes home in one piece, it'll be alright. I trust Harry."

              "But what about you, you're stuck home with Amanda. You remember this, and don't let him forget this when the time comes. At the very least, get yourself something nice while he's gone. What are you doing tomorrow? Let's go shopping."

              "The world's problems are solved by shopping."

              "It doesn't hurt. If George and I have some troubles..."

              "Oh...troubles?"

              "Yes, sometimes. Nothing terrible."

              "But I thought you had the perfect marriage."

              "Nothing's perfect, but a round of shopping certainly makes it seem perfect."

              "So you're saying I should go buy something for myself because Harry is away on this trip."

              "Exactly! The longer he's away, the bigger the present."

              "Sounds like a plan, but I'll have to let you know. When this trip first came up last month, Harry promised I could get away for a weekend with my girlfriends. We'll go to New York or something."

              "That's nice, I guess. But, can Harry take care of Amanda by himself? I'm not going to help. I don't know if I'll have the time."

              "Don't worry, I wasn't going to ask you."

              "Oh...you weren't?"

              "Oh...Mom I have another phone call.

              Chris clicked the phone receiver and picked up the other call.

              "Hello?"

              "He's gone, right?"

              "Robin? Hi. yes."

              "Good."

              "Well..."

              "Come on. Of course it's good. You're a free woman for a few days."

              "Amanda has something to say about this."

              "Don't use her as an excuse. Get a sitter, get your Mom to watch her, we'll go out."

              "Wait. Another call. Hold on."

              "Mom?"

              "No, Dad."

              "Dad?"

              "What about Harry?"

              "What about Harry?"

              "He's on a trip? Martha tells me he's on a trip and won't be back for two weeks. Kris, are you there? I gotta business to run..."

              "Hold on....I have another call."

              Kris clicked the phone again.

              "Mom?"

              "No, Dad."

              "He's pissed right."

              "He's always pissed.'

              "Is he going to fire Harry?"

              "No way in hell. I wouldn't let him. I'd drag Amanda into his office and the two of us would bawl him out until he rehired my big oaf."

              "But he wouldn't leave his daughter out on a limb?"

              "Oh, if he could get away with it, he would. I know he'll try."

              "Is he that big a bastard?"

              "No, just a business man. A lot of times he only sees his bottom line. Part of it is he doesn't like Harry very much, he thinks Harry isn't good enough for me."

              "What Dad doesn't think that way? So, we're going out when...tonight right?"

              "Where to?"

              "Let's go out and have a drink, something to eat, go check out the guys."

              "Robin, I... I don't want to go out and pick up guys."

              "Hey, a fat man on a diet can still look at the menu. Who said anything about picking them up. Hell, you'll only get a hernia."

              Kris giggled, "Yes, I guess you're right. It'll be good to get out of the house for the night. I'll call my Mom."

              "Hey, did you hear about the big sale at Wal-Mart? They have a sidewalk sale going on. Lots of papertowels in bulk...gardening supplies and backyard accessories. They have cushions for those plastic chairs you have in the backyard."

              "Really? Wait! It's Mom."

              She clicked the phone receiver again.

              "Mom?"

              "Dad."

              "Dad?"

              "Yes. Where's Harry?"

              "It's Saturday, he doesn't have to be at work today."

              "But is he going to be at work on Monday?"

               Kris said nothing, her father repeated the question.

              "Why are you calling me about this? You know he's going to be away."

              "Well, when is he coming back?"

              "The hell I know."

              "Kris! I have some big orders going out next week. I need Harry in the office. I'm awful with paperwork."

              "You know Dad, we aren't talking about I.B.M. here, you don't have a big company."

              "He's coming back on Monday...Tuesday...Wednesday... Well, when?!"

              "I said I don't know. He had planned to come back late Monday or Tuesday, I guess. But you never know with Harry."

              "I need him."

              "And he needs a few days off."

              "Then I need you. Monday morning, as early as possible."

              "I've got Amanda."

              "Then bring her in too. Set up a playpen."

              "She'll be all over the place. You'll have to help care for her. Wait. Why the hell am I going on like this. I don't want to come in to the office. It's going to be nice on Monday. This pisses me off; I always have to pick up after Harry Days."

              "Monday morning, alright?"

              "I don't know."

              Upstairs Amanda stirred from her nap. The toddler began to litter the floor with toys that were in her crib.

              "Amanda's up, I got to go Dad."

              "You're coming, right?"

              "I gotta go."

              "I just want to let you know, I need someone who's reliable. Even when Harry's there, he's not. I've got to check on everything. I let down once and the whole thing goes to pot. Simple orders get screwed up, half the time he's not there. I get customers calling with service questions and I can't find Harry. That's why I hired him, not because he's married to you. He's supposed to know the computers and the electronics equipment, and troubleshoot them."

              Amanda evidently ran out of things to throw out of her crib upstairs, for she now began to shake the crib. It rattled noisily against the wall. She also started calling for Mom.

              At first it was a staccato, rapid fire 'Mom'.

              "Mom!" she cried. "Mom! Mom! MOM!" 

              "Look Dad, I don't have time for this. Amanda's up, I really have to go."

              "You're coming in?"

              "Yes! All right already...good-bye."

              Kris slammed down the phone receiver. It immediately rang. Upstairs Amanda was getting frantic. She somehow managed to squeeze two syllables into the word 'mom' and the child now wailed.

              "MA-OM! MAAAA-OOOMMM!"

              The crib sounded like it was banging through the wall.

              On the phone was Harry.

              "MAAAA-OOOOOM!"

              "What do you want?" 

              "I want to say hello."

              "All right. Hello. I gotta go."

              "But..."

              "I have to go. Amanada's up."

              "Don't you want to talk to me?"

              "Of course, but I have to go."

              "MAAAA-OOOOOM! MOM! MOM! MAAAAA-OOOOMMM!"

              "I have to go!"

              "But..."

              "You having a good time, where are you?"

              "A McDonald's in Tennessee somewhere."

              "MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

              Suddenly there was a thud and the cries stopped.

              "Shit!"

              Kris slammed down the receiver and ran upstairs. On his end of the line Harry stood looking at the wall of the phone booth at the numbers of a taxi company and an invitation to sample Lorali's physical charms for an evening. 

              "But...," he said weakly, distantly. "Good...bye."

              He gently hung up the receiver and pushed his way through the folding door and into the dark of the Crusty Crab bar and grill in Smyrna, Delaware. Sinatra's version of 'I've Got You Under My Skin' bounced from a juke box.

              'Wake up, step up to reality...,' 

              Scattered at a few tables were shadowy, nondescript figures murmuring and eating house specialty crab cakes. Every other stool was occupied by men quietly smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. They watched without passion an Orioles game.

              The bar at the Crusty Crab was made of ornately carved wood. It was massive. A layer of dust covered the wooden flowers that meandered through the bar's design. The thick smell of stale beer rose up from the sawdust-covered floor.

              '..Just the thought of you makes me stop...before I begin...'

              Harry shuffled his way back to the bar stool where Carlo sat, ingesting the last of his Crusty Crab crab cake.

              "Is everything all right?" Carlo asked when he got a good look at Harry.

              "Yeah," said Harry, drinking his beer.

              "You sure, last time I saw a face like yours it was in the post office."

              "It's just that whenever I call home, even if I'm at work, Kris doesn't have time to talk to me. It's always something, like Amanda, or vacuuming, or errands."

              "It's tough, I know," said Carlo, hiding a smile.

              He drained his glass. Before he placed his glass down on the coaster the bartender was in front of him, waiting, he didn't even ask, he just walked it over to the tap and refilled it. Carlo cradled his chin in his hands and rolled his eyes at Harry.     

              "I mean, it's like I'm not even missed. I," he said, tapping his chest, "would be happy to hear from her."

              "Harry, the world doesn't revolve around you."

              "Yeah, I know, I know...you sound like Kris."

              Carlo snorted and smiled and drank his beer.

              "We aren't going to make this show, are we Carlo?"

              "Maybe we will. Maybe we won't. You don't want to turn around do you?"

              "Well...I don't know. Maybe we should go back."

              Carlo turned to toward Harry. He gave him a look that Harry pointedly refused to meet.

              "I only said, 'I don't know.' Okay? I guess not...what for, right?"

              "Yeah, yeah," said Carlo wearily. He was tired from the hours and the drive and the beers. "Look, it's my turn to sleep. I won't wake up in New Jersey, will I?"

              "But, we're not going to make it."

              "Hell."

              "He'll be going on to the next show. Where's it going to be?"

              "Hell. We'll make it, okay. Just stop complaining. We'll make it, we'll just have to get going already!"

              Carlo stood so abruptly, the barstool teetered and nearly toppled. Harry grabbed for it, but ended up falling off his stool as well. Both tumbled to the floor. Carlo grunted and pushed his way through the door and brilliant sunlight flooded   the dark tavern. Harsh, unforgiving light cascaded onto Harry, who lay floundering for a moment on the damp carpet of the saloon before struggling to his feet. The bartender, an elderly man, gave him a look, his hands on his hips. As the door closed slowly and the bar got dark again, Harry paid the tab. Smiling sheepishly at the scowling bartender, Harry mumbled something nice about the jukebox as another Sinatra song began.

              'On the Road to Mandalay...,' warbled the crooner.

              "Thank you, we try."

              The old man demeanor softened suddenly.

              "God bless Frank Sinatra."

              "Yeah," said Harry, happy the old man wasn't quite so angry.

              "Used to be you'd take a girl to a Sinatra concert, and she'd get all hot and horny. Afterwards, she couldn't keep her hands off you!"

              Harry didn't say anything for a moment; he just looked back at the bartender, at his white hair that glowed from the lights that illuminated the liquor bottles on the shelves behind him. The old man nodded his head and gave Harry a wink, though Harry could not readily see the wink since the bartender's thick, black-rimmed glasses also glowed in the soft light and it was like staring at two clouds.

              Harry nodded too.

              "We're on a road trip."

              "Yeah?"

              "Dedalus. We're going to see Dedalus."

              The clouds stared back at him. The bartender himself made no movement.

              "You wouldn't remember him."

              There was a long silence that left Harry feeling awkward. The bartender never answered him. Harry said good-bye and pushed his way out the door. He found Carlo already asleep in the backseat. Harry started the car and steered it into traffic. He only drove a few blocks before pulling into the parking lot of a supermarket.