Burst by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 7
I was nervous at the outset of their next visit. I had called their home to apologize a few times since the “This is my house” incident, and was assured that everything was okay. But, I knew that actions in the flesh can be very different than words transmitted, even wirelessly. So, in person, I apologized and apologized, but it was truly okay, as Rikki told me to shut up. At first she did seem a bit cautious, but after a few drinks and a ridiculous number of apologies things seemed back to normal.
Had I not liked them so much, I’d not have apologized at all. What they were originally suggesting entailed making a 20
minute job into one of 3-5 hours. Having reached an advanced age, I had learned a few of the contractor’s games and with them act accordingly. But, it’s different with friends. Rikki and Mal refused to hear anything else, did it how I originally asked, and that was the end of it. In fact, after that she seemed more tranquil than ever; often wearing her hair in a ponytail.
Frequently when we were sitting outside, she’d say how relaxed she felt here and how she’d like to have something like this.
That would actually sadden me as my house is nothing special.
It’s a six room adobe; a good size for Diane, me, and an occasional not-fully-compliant dog. I guess the treed and bushed
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acre afforded some degree of privacy; at least more than she was experiencing at her parent’s house. For Diane and me, this place was an after-the-problems relocation and adjustment to simultaneous health and financial setbacks. For Rikki and Mal it was an unachievable goal at age thirty. There is something in that which is an inherent indictment of a system which has shown its potential by making things so easy for baby boomers and so difficult for Millennials. The level of theft going on at the highest levels has to have reached the closest thing to infinity that mankind will ever know. One time Rikki brought over a brochure of what might have been a trailer with some interesting decorating ideas. This affordable house was now her dream. I think I succeeded at appearing enthusiastic.
As far as my house was concerned; its damaged wall got the simple job and it’s still fine two years later.
Mal got a manager job at the small hamburger franchise named “Bob’s Whoppaburger.” Basically, it meant that he did the job of whatever high school kid didn’t show up that day. He was a natural at fries and onion rings, and adequately bluffed his way through flipping and bagging. It wasn’t that he really wanted the job despite its attendant “free” uniform which only required a $100 deposit. It was that he needed to have a steady source of income, as Rikki’s parents were again threatening to
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throw them out. The car repo thing was still available, but Rikki threatened suicide if he was out at night; probably fearing that he’d use the time to re-unite with Lydia. For another reason he tested her once and came back to find her talking to me on the phone while she swallowed the remainder of the anti-freeze container. She luckily threw up just after I threatened to call 911 and just before Mal got back. After five days Mal got dismissed for lying on the part of his application on which he answered “None” to criminal record.
We actually joked about that a few days hence. He had mentioned how the job applications all asked why one had left their last job. I said that he should write; “I was summarily dismissed because I’m white. Whoppaburger needed to meet EEOC
standards and ostensibly accomplished that by replacing me with a Spic.” While I didn’t consider this one on my better lines, it resulted in more laughter than I had otherwise received from both of them.
Rikki’s job search seemed much more discriminating. Prior to and/or during her time in college she had worked with emotionally disturbed children. She took particular pride in telling me that she was once responsible for a feral boy who hated and bit everyone; but who upon seeing her would come running and leap into her arms. I’m sure you have heard the
“joke” that a psychiatrist becomes one because he’s fucked up
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himself. As a possible result of her prior experience, her on-line applications, which were initiated in a difficult job market excepting military, military contractors, and IT
technicians from third world countries willing to work very cheaply were ignored by those of her academic specialty; or mildly received by low end, legalized, corporate, state funded scams run by someone claiming to be an MD; which sought a flunky to be the one blamed if the negligent shit hit the fan. Yeah, Rikki had been in this ballpark before, handled it, but now showed no signs of wanting to go back. Thinking that a full time job for either or both was a solution to her parents’ continual threats of banishment, I stressed what I thought practical under the circumstances, saying things like; “Yeah, they’re trying to play you. But, you can play them back. Just depends on the reading of the particulars and the subsequent modus operandi.”
I’m certain that Rikki understood what I meant, but despite her claims of being logical, she either was unbearably tired of the game or was seeking an excuse to hide under the covers for as long as possible. At that point, I might have entered a sadness about which my generation never experienced or even anticipated.
Feeling out of place, I didn’t push and saw no reason to. Rikki was compelled to expand. She spoke of having had similar jobs; some out and out dangerous, charged with people who wanted to kill, without access to any backup. She took particular pride in
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telling me about being responsible for a feral, male teenager who hated and bit everyone; but who upon seeing Rikki would seek to be held by her. I’m sure you have heard the “joke” that a psychiatrist becomes one because he’s fucked up himself. She fondly remembered him. He must have been abandoned early in life, as he grew up in the wild, that presumably being somewhere in the US, he had learned to defend himself. He could bite as well as a wolf; and one time got Rikki in the sensitive, fat part of her upper arm. She sought no retribution, but was honored to say that she became this boy’s only friend. In my head, I couldn’t help making an analogy to Mal, who was currently pretending to be engrossed in some Youtube presentation he had seen ten times before. Rikki was particularly proud to tell me; as she did it on at least three separate occasions; that when the state inspectors came this boy would run by everyone and jump into her arms.
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