Then there was Carlos, whod committed suicide in his garage. Why, he had been a version of Carlos Delgado, also known as the Big Cat. For years Sifkitz had followed the fortunes of the Toronto Blue Jays, simply because he didnt want to be like every other American League baseball fan in New York and root for the Yankees. The Cat had been one of Torontos very few stars.
I made you all, he said in a voice that was little more than a croak. I created you out of memories and spare parts. Of course he had. Nor had it been for the first time. The boys on the Norman Rockwell pitchers mound in the Fritos ad, for instancethe ad agency had, at his request, provided him with photographs of four boys of the correct age, and Sifkitz had simply painted them in. Their mothers had signed the necessary waivers; it had been business as usual.
If they heard him speak, Berkowitz, Freddy, and Whelan gave no sign. They spoke a few words among themselves that Sifkitz could hear but not make out; they seemed to come from a great distance. Whatever they were, they got Whelan moving out of the alcove while Berkowitz knelt by the stationary bike, just as Sifkitz himself had done. Berkowitz picked up the screwdriver and in no time at all the left-hand pedal dropped off onto the concreteclunk. Sifkitz, still on the deserted road, watched through the queer organic hole as Berkowitz handed the screwdriver to Freddy Albemarlewho, with Richard Sifkitz, had played lousy trumpet in the equally lousy high school band. They had played a hell of a lot better when they were rocking. Somewhere in the Canadian woods an owl hooted, the sound inexpressibly lonely. Freddy went to work unscrewing the other pedal. Whelan, meanwhile, returned with the adjustable wrench in his hand. Sifkitz felt a pang at the sight of it.
Watching them, the thought that went through Sifkitzs mind was: If you want something done right, hire a professional. Certainly Berkowitz and his boys wasted no time. In less than four minutes the stationary bike was nothing but two wheels and three disconnected sections of frame laid on the concrete, and so neatly that the parts looked like one of those diagrams called exploded schematics.
Berkowitz himself dropped the screws and bolts into the front pockets of his Dickies, where they bulged like handfuls of spare change. He gave Sifkitz a meaningful look as he did this, one that made Sifkitz angry all over again. By the time the work-crew came back through the odd, ductlike hole (dropping their heads as they did so, like men passing through a low doorway), Sifkitzs fists were clenched again, even though doing that made the wrist of the left one throb like hell.
You know what? he asked Berkowitz. I dont think you can hurt me. I dont think you can hurt me, because then what happens to you? Youre nothing but a a sub-contractor!
Berkowitz looked at him levelly from beneath the bent bill of his LIPID cap.
I made you up! Sifkitz said, and counted them off, poking the index finger out of his right fist and pointing it at each one in turn like the barrel of a gun. Youre the Son of Sam! Youre nothing but a grown-up version of this kid I played the horn with at Sisters of Mercy High! You couldnt play E-flat to save your life! And youre an artist specializing in dragons and enchanted maidens!
The remaining members of The Lipid Company were singularly unimpressed.
What does that make you? Berkowitz asked. Did you ever think of that? Are you going to tell me there might not be a larger world out there someplace? For all you know, youre nothing but a random thought going through some unemployed Certified Public Accountants head while he sits on the jakes, reading the paper and taking his morning dump.
Sifkitz opened his mouth to say that was ridiculous, but something in Berkowitzs eyes made him shut it again. Go on, his eyes said. Ask a question. Ill tell you more than you ever wanted to know.
What Sifkitz said instead was, Who are you to tell me I cant get fit? Do you want me to die at fifty? Jesus Christ, whats wrong with you?
Freddy said, I aint no philosopher, Mac. All I know is that my truck needs a tune-up I cant afford.
And Ive got one kid who needs orthopedic shoes and another one who needs speech therapy, Whelan added.
The guys working on the Big Dig in Boston have got a saying, Berkowitz said. Dont kill the job, let it die on its own. Thats all were asking, Sifkitz. Let us dip our beaks. Let us earn our living.
This is crazy, Sifkitz muttered. Totally
I dont give a shit how you feel about it, you motherfucker! Freddy shouted, and Sifkitz realized the man was almost crying. This confrontation was as stressful for them as it was for him. Somehow realizing that was the worst shock of all. I dont give a shit about you, you aint nothing, you dont work, you just piddle around and make your little pitchers, but dont you take the bread out of my kids mouths, you hear? Dont you do it!
He started forward, hands rolling into fists and coming up in front of his face: an absurd John L. Sullivan boxing pose. Berkowitz put a hand on Freddys arm and pulled him back.
Dont be a hardass about it, man, Whelan said. Live and let live, all right?
Let us dip our beaks, Berkowitz repeated, and of course Sifkitz recognized the phrase; hed read The Godfather and seen all the movies. Could any of these guys use a word or a slang phrase that wasnt in his own vocabulary? He doubted it. Let us keep our dignity, man. You think we can go to work drawing pictures, like you? He laughed. Yeah, right. If I draw a cat, I gotta write CAT underneath so people know what it is.
You killed Carlos, Whelan said, and if there had been accusation in his voice, Sifkitz had an idea he might have been angry all over again. But all he heard was sorrow. We told him, Hold on, man, itll get better, but he wasnt strong. He could never, you know, look ahead. He lost all his hope. Whelan paused, looked up at the dark sky. Not far off, Freddys Dodge rumbled roughly. He never had much to start with. Some people dont, you know.
Sifkitz turned to Berkowitz. Let me get this straight. What you want
Just dont kill the job, Berkowitz said. Thats all we want. Let the job die on its own.
Sifkitz realized he could probably do as this man was asking. It might even be easy. Some people, if they ate one Krispy Kreme, they had to go and finish the whole box. If hed been that type of man, they would have a serious problem here but he wasnt.
Okay, he said. Why dont we give it a try. And then an idea struck him. Do you think I could have a company hat? He pointed to the one Berkowitz was wearing.
Berkowitz gave a smile. It was brief, but more genuine than the laugh when hed said he couldnt draw a cat without having to write the word under it. That could be arranged.
Sifkitz had an idea Berkowitz would stick out his hand then, but Berkowitz didnt. He just gave Sifkitz a final measuring glance from beneath the bill of his cap and then started toward the cab of the truck. The other two followed.
How long before I decide none of this happened? Sifkitz asked. That I took the stationary bike apart myself because I just I dont know just got tired of it?
Berkowitz paused, hand on the doorhandle, and looked back. How long do you want it to be? he asked.
I dont know, Sifkitz said. Hey, its beautiful out here, isnt it?
It always was, Berkowitz said. We always kept it nice. There was an undertone of defensiveness in his voice that Sifkitz chose to ignore. It occurred to him that even a figment of ones imagination could have its pride.
For a few moments they stood there on the road, which Sifkitz had lately come to think of as The Great Trans-Canadian Lost Highway, a pretty grand name for a no-name dirt track through the woods, but also pretty nice. None of them said anything. Somewhere the owl hooted again.
Indoors, outdoors, its all the same to us, Berkowitz said. Then he opened the door and swung up behind the wheel.
Take care of yourself, Freddy said.
But not too much, Whelan added.
Sifkitz stood there while the truck made an artful three-point turn on the narrow road and started back the way it came. The ductlike opening was gone, but Sifkitz didnt worry about that. He didnt think hed have any trouble getting back when the time came. Berkowitz made no effort to avoid the Raleigh but ran directly over it, finishing a job that was already finished. There were sproinks and goinks as the spokes in the wheels broke. The taillights dwindled, then disappeared around a curve. Sifkitz could hear the thump of the motor for quite awhile, but that faded, too.