Читать книгу Junkin' - Strat Boone's Douthat - Страница 5

At that moment, Ruth Eskdale was zipping the plastic cover over her electric typewriter, taking care that the zipper's teeth didn't catch her ruffled sleeve. When the cover was in place, she picked up the letter she had just typed for Jackson T. Hobart III, president of the Midwestern Mattress Co., Columbus, Ohio.

The letter, addressed to the chairman of a congressional subcommittee in Washington, D.C., was demanding prompt relief from foreign imports. It went on for three pages about how slave labor companies in Asia, the Taiwanese in particular, were undercutting U.S. manufacturers with shoddy merchandise priced far below anything Jason T. Hobart III could make a decent mattress for. He wanted the congressman to do something and Ruth was proud to be typing a message that would go to a powerful member of the government.

She examined the letter, looking at it with a critical eye. Like all her work, it was evenly spaced, perfectly typed, framed beautifully. That's why, although she'd worked at the plant for just over six months, she was Mr. Hobart's secretary.

“When Mr. Hobart's secretary took maternity leave I filled in for her,” she had told Benny, back when he was calling every week. “Mr. Hobart said he'd never seen such beautiful work. He said he wanted me to do all his letters.”

Ruth flushed, recalling how Benny had laughed and called her a go-fer. He'd asked if she sat on “Mr. Hodad's” lap when she took dictation.

She knew Benny was jealous of her job, but that was no excuse for being so mean. “At least I have a job,” she'd said before hanging up on him. She usually wound up slamming down the receiver when they talked. But then he'd started doing it too, and it really made her mad when he beat her to it.

She dropped the letter in the out box and headed down the hall for her mid-morning break. Brenda, a chubby brunette who worked in packaging, was already seated at a table when she reached the lunchroom. Ruth got a can of Coke from the machine and joined Brenda at a long, plastic table with the plant's logo stamped on its surface.

“So, d'you think your husband's coming up?” Brenda asked as Ruth sat down. “If I was you, I'd forget that hillbilly. Me, I'd concentrate on Carlos. Now, there's a man. I love those big, brown eyes. Makes me shiver when he looks at me.”

She rolled her eyes, making Ruth laugh.

“Brenda, I swear you're the horniest woman I ever saw.”

“Then you ain't seen much, honey. I once knew a girl who had to have it twice a day or she broke out in hives. One time, when she was real itchy and couldn't find...”

She broke off as a slim, dark-haired man came through the door.

“Buenas dias, ladies'' he said, sitting next to Ruth. “Qué pasa?”

It irked some of the men when Carlos sprinkled Spanish into his conversations. They called him a show-off spic, but Ruth liked it. She had seldom heard foreign languages on Cabin Creek, except for Polish cuss words and she was charmed by his accent and his worldly air. It was obvious Carlos had been around. And, it was clear he liked her.

Brenda leaned across the table. “So, Carlos, when are you going to take us out and show us some of those sexy Spanish dances?”

“At your convenience, Brenda,” he replied, looking at Ruth.

“Well, I'm free tonight,'' Brenda said, nudging Ruth under the table.

“Not me,'' said Ruth, “There’s someplace I've got to be this evening.”

“In that case we'll do it another time,'' Carlos said. “Adios, mis amigas.”

After he’d left, Brenda gave Ruth a look. “Hell's bells, why didn't you tell me you have a date? Anybody I know?”

“Yes, Billy. He's got a scout meeting and I promised to go.”

Ruth downed her Coke. “Time I got back to my desk.”

She rose and brushed some lint from her skirt. “The way my desk is piled up, I'll be lucky to get finished by quitting time.”

She did finish by quitting time, and driving home resisted a fleeting temptation to make a quick detour over to the mall and walk through one of the big department stores. She loved those big, fancy stores with their colorful, ever-changing displays, exotic perfumes and racks of beautiful clothes. Somehow, those places seemed to awaken her; it was as though she could feel herself changing, her senses quickening as she strolled through the aisles, stopping to spray some perfume on her wrist or caress a silky blouse.

It's the possibilities, she thought, as she drove down the broad avenue, passing a pair of old, Victorian-style mansions flanking a huge, stone church with Gothic spires pointing toward heaven. That's where Benny and I are so different.

Billy was waiting on the porch when she pulled up. Ruth could see that his tee-shirt was soaking wet and sticking to his skinny frame. Wendell Duty, their next-door neighbor, was watering his lawn and grinning at Billy, who stood on the porch in a puddle of water.

“Looks like you got a shower,” Ruth said. Wendell, a big, friendly Kentuckian, waved hello, sending a spray of water skyward.

“Yep,” Billy said, “Wendell and me have been playing fireman. Wendell is the fireman and I'm a hot cinder.”

The Dutys, Wendell and Darlene, had come up to Columbus from Hazard in 1971, “just before the good times, when the Arab oil boom hit the coalfields,” as they liked to say. Theirs was one of a half-dozen hillbilly households on the block. The locals referred to the neighborhood as Dogpatch. Its streets were lined with small, boxy frame houses, most of them surrounded by well-tended yards and bordered by rectangular garden plots. Cars on cinderblocks sat in a few of the yards.

Ruth hated those cars and especially the ones with their hoods up like gaping mouths. She told Billy the cars belonged to “white trash.” There were no junk cars on her street, but she nonetheless was determined to move away from the neighborhood as soon as possible.

“Uncle Russell called,” Billy said. “Said he'd call you later this evening.”

“Did he say whether he'd talked to you dad?”

“I forgot to ask. He called when me and Wendell was playin' fireman. I was drippin' on the rug so I didn't talk long.”

Ruth was conflicted about the way Billy seemed to be withdrawing from his father. On one hand it served Benny right, but she wanted Billy to have a man in his life, even if it was a stubborn asshole who drank too much. She hated it that Billy spent so much time with strangers and babysitters. He went to day camp at the city swimming pool from 8:30 until 3 p.m., and then stayed with the Dutys until she got home from work.

She was always short on money. Benny usually sent her a little something every month, but there wasn't much left over after she paid the rent, the day camp and the babysitters. If Benny were the right kind of man, she thought, he'd get his butt up to Columbus, get a job, and take care of his kid.