Elementary

by Jason Zandri

  we’re even.”

  Matthew raised his hand. “I didn’t do it to get something or be owed anything. It wasn’t right; they weren’t giving you a fair shake, and I wanted to make sure they knew that, so I talked with my Dad, and he went in to have a sit down.”

  “So you don’t want anything?” Tim asked.

  “No,” Matthew said and paused. “Not really.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not really?’” Tim asked.

  “Well, I wanted to go see Nighthawks at the Center Cinema on Saturday, but I didn’t feel like going by myself. Would you want to go?”

  Tim stopped leaning on the car and paced instead. “What the hell do I want to go with you for? You have that sweet little Melissa, from up the street, who likes you,” he said pointing over at Ward Street, “why not just ask her? Or Wentworth, Wellsworth, or whatever her name is. She has the hots for you, too.”

  “Honestly, I never thought to ask Melissa. It’s not her type of movie anyhow,” Matthew said. His mind paused on Liz too; he’d never thought to ask her either.

  “We’ll never get in. It’s rated ‘R,’ and they won’t let us in,” Tim said.

  “You have to have a parent or guardian get you the ticket. My father read up on the movie and said the adult themes weren’t too bad, and he’d let me see it. Think your father would let you go?” Matthew asked.

  “My father won’t care what I do; he never does,” Tim said quietly.

  “Why would you say that? He took the time to come down here to talk to my Dad. That’s for you.”

  Tim said nothing, and only looked back over through the store windows at his father talking to Mark Sanford.

  ***

  John looked at the pad of paper while holding the pen, and then looked to Mark. “Say.” He glanced back at his car. “My boy is sitting in the car. Maybe I can fill this out at home and swing it by tomorrow.”

  Mark looked over and saw the boys talking. “I don’t mind waiting a

  few minutes, and the boys seem to be having a conversation. Might be good for them to finish talking things out without everyone at school listening in.

  Can I get you something to drink? A soda? Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.” John fidgeted then looked down at the pad again.

  A moment of silence passed between them. Diane looked over at Mark and mouthed the word “what”; Mark responded by holding up a finger.

  “Let me ask you, John,” Mark said, breaking the silence and reaching forward to take the pad away. “I have a little garage work that I’m behind on, and could use some temporary help. As long as you’re out of work and tinkering at home in between interviews, why not come down here and lend me a hand. I could pay you cash in the short term. It won’t affect your unemployment.”

  John looked away from the pad to Mark. “Well … sure. That would be helpful. Very gracious of you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes. Can you stop by tomorrow, or do you have interviews or other things to tend to?”

  “No. I can be here first thing. What time?” John asked, his voice notably more positive.

  “Well, the store here is open at six a.m.; does eight work for you?”

  Mark set the pad down on the counter.

  “I’ll be here for seven forty-five, to be ready for eight then. Thank you,” John said. “Thank you again for stepping up for my boy. I’ll make sure he makes the best of that.”

  “I have no doubt. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sanford, thank you.” John wiped his hand on the cleanest spot on his coveralls he could find, and then extended it to shake.

  They shook hands. “Mark, please.”

  John nodded and let go. “Good night, Miss,” he said, turning to Diane.

  “Good night, Mr. Cafferty. See you tomorrow.”

  John turned and walked outside. The boys stood talking, so he waited just outside the door and away from them to let them have the chance to

  finish up.

  “What made you change your mind like that? Offer him the work first before getting the information to check?” Diane asked in a hushed tone.

  Mark walked around to the far side of the counter, and then stepped into the work area and leaned in. “I don’t think he can read or write. Not sure if it’s ‘at all’ or just ‘very well,’ but I could see his expression when he thought he’d have to freehand information onto the lined pad. He was uncomfortable, to say the least.”

  “Won’t that affect him in being able to do his work? Not being able to read car manuals and such?” Diane asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Mark rubbed his chin. “He was a mechanic all those years, and only got let go due to a change in their business. Something tells me he already knows what his weaknesses are by the way he carried himself just now. If he was working there all that time, then he knows how to work hard and keep his head down, or he wouldn’t have lasted so long.”

  Mark stepped over a little more to watch the man approach his car. “There’s certainly no harm in having him help me get ahead of the scheduled work I have. All my things are simple: oil, tires, hoses, belts, and so on. It’ll show me what he can do. If it works out, and he’s got ten years of deep experience, I can take on bigger jobs in the bay with the lift and sub level.”

  The bell on the door dinged open, and Matthew walked in.

  “How’d it go, sport? You and young Cafferty work things out?” Mark asked.

  “I’d like to think so. It was a good conversation. I asked him to go with me to Nighthawks on Saturday,” Matthew said. The phone rang.

  Diane moved around the counter to answer it, and Matthew and Mark stared in her direction.

  “Colony Convenience; can I help you?” Diane placed her hand over the receiver and whispered to Mark and Matthew, “Sorry, it’s Missy.” She took her hand off the receiver and continued in a normal voice. “Slow down, Missy. I can’t understand what you’re trying to tell me …”

  Mark stepped away from Matthew and toward the counter.

  “I’ll be right home … I’ll head right over.” Diane got all flustered and

  hung up the phone.

  “Is there a problem?” Mark asked.

  “I’m not sure. Missy was all excited and not making any sense.

  Would it be okay to leave a few things for the morning to let me shoot home now?” Diane asked.

  “Go ahead.” Mark waved his hand. “Matthew and I can finish up.”

  Diane smiled and grabbed her sweater for the walk to Joe’s house.

  She was about to go out the door when Matthew called out, “Diane? When things settle there, can you call us at the house?”

  “Sure,” she said, smiling, and then looking over at Mark.

  “I want to know if everything is okay over there, you know, with Melissa and things,” Matthew said sheepishly.

  “Of course. Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing, or it’s some little something that’s blown all out of control.” She turned to the door and exited.

  “I’ll be sure to call.”

  Mark looked over at his son and wondered where the sudden concerns came from. “Matthew,” he said, walking over to the main door to lock it, and then headed away to lock the others. “Is there anything Melissa’s shared with you that you think makes sense to share with your father?”

  “What do you mean, Dad?” Matthew pulled the trash bags out of the cans to help with the clean up.

  “Well,” he said in half a shout while he headed down to the far end of the store. “I don’t need to know any sort of private stuff that you two share as friends, but what I wanted to know is, are you concerned about anything specific with the issue tonight, or just concerned in general?”

  Matthew didn’t answer and just continued to work. Mark made his way back over and shut the lights off in the expansion area of the store. Once he came all the way back into the old store section, he stood in the aisle in front of Matthew, who looked up at him. “We
ll, nothing particular, Dad.

  Things are always shaky there. Her stepfather’s a jerk. She gets upset about the situation and talks to me a little about it. I guess Diane told them she was going to take that apartment. Missy thought their stepfather would be more excited about her leaving, since he complains a lot about her being there, but

  he was quiet about it.”

  Mark said nothing further and stood there a moment to think about his son’s words. Then he changed the subject, “So, Tim is going to go to the movie with you on Saturday?”

  “He didn’t say yes or no. I guess I can ask him again tomorrow.”

  Matthew put the clean garbage bag into the last pail and put it away. From there, he stepped around his father and towards the office area.

  “Where are you headed, sport?” Mark asked, turning around.

  “To get my collection bag from last week. We need to go over what I need to keep on the side and what I can spend at will.”

  Mark watched him go into the back and smiled when he came back out just a second later. “Okay,” Matthew said, heading over to the counter, “I collected my customers, except for two I couldn’t catch. This,” he said, taking a larger pile of ones and the change from the bag, “pays for all my newspaper costs. Now, I have $21.00 profit, and this little bit of change here.” He looked up at his father like he was trying to get away with something.

  “Looks like about three dollars in change there,” Mark said. “And a few ones.”

  “Um … yeah. Anyway. Seven dollars to you for short-term savings, and then seven more for long-term. This seven,” Matthew said as he folded it up and put it into his pocket, “is what we agreed I could keep.” Mark nodded in agreement and waited a moment. “I wanted to talk to you about this eight dollars and change here.” He pointed to the money on the counter. “These were all tips for working hard and doing a good job. Extra money that people gave me for my efforts. I think I should be able to decide what I want to do with that.”

  Mark put his hand on his chin, impressed that his son had taken a position and stated his case. “Well, we never did discuss tips. Only the profit earned from the paper sales themselves. What do you want to do with it?”

  Matthew counted out four dollars. “I give up sixty-seven percent of my pay to long and short-term savings, as we agreed. I’m only getting that last thirty-three percent. I think I should be able to keep the tips as ready spending money.”

  “Do you need that much?” Mark asked. “I mean, up to a week or so ago, you didn’t have anything of your own to spend. Now you have seven dollars. Do you need eight more on top of that?”

  Matthew thought about it for a minute. “I guess not. I just feel like it’s a reward for going beyond and I would like to have it.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Mark said, reaching over and ruffling his hair.

  “I’ll give in to your point for now. You did work harder to earn it, and you put away what I asked from the base pay. So long as you act responsibly with the money, let’s see how things go.”

  Matthew looked up and smiled. “Thanks, Dad,” he said. Matthew walked around the counter and flicked the lights off. “Think we could get pizza tonight?”

  “Sure,” Mark said, grinning widely. “You’re buying.” He gave his son a quick wink.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Matthew made his way down Valley Street to Tim’s house. Before he got all the way to the front door, Tim stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. The late Saturday afternoon sun hung high in the sky.

  “Sand-man. Look, bud, I can’t go,” he said quietly.

  “Bummer. How come?” Matthew asked.

  “No cash. My Dad couldn’t spare it. My Mom said no, too, but if I had the cash, I’d go. The old man said it was fine. He’s up your Dad’s shop again.” Tim leant back against the support pillar on the porch.

  “Look,” Matthew said, thinking it over, “the movie is ninety-nine cents and the soda and popcorn is, like, two bucks. What if I cover for you and maybe you give me a hand one morning helping me with the papers?”

  “You sure?” Tim asked.

  “Why not? I mean I can’t do it a lot, but I figure I can today this one time. We can call it the Tapeless Nose Celebration of 1981!” Matthew said, then laughed.

  Tim laughed as they headed off the porch and towards Ward Street.

  “What time is the movie?”

  “Five fifteen; we have plenty of time to walk there,” Matthew said.

  “So, tell me, man,” Tim said while they walked along. “I saw you and a bunch of kids on the playground with the sour apple sticks; what’s the deal?”

  Matthew hesitated at first, not knowing whether or not to share. Then he spoke up, “Well, I was at Stop and Shop the other day, and I went in with my eight dollars in tips from the papers. They had Sour Apple Sticks on sale, in the ten pack, for ninety-nine cents.”

  “They’re thirty cents each at Boylan’s and Windy’s,” Tim exclaimed.

  “You know, I noticed your Dad doesn’t carry them.”

  “I know; I thought the same thing. So I got eighty of them.”

  “Wait.” Tim stopped walking. “You bought eighty Sour Apple Sticks?”

  “Yeah,” Matthew said, excited, as he walked past Tim. “But it gets

  better. Billy wanted a couple, so I told him fifty cents, and he was, like,

  ‘okay.’”

  Tim set off walking again and caught up with Matthew. “So you sold a few. You must still have, like, seventy left.”

  “No, man. It’s better than that. Kids all want candy and gum. I never thought of it until I had them with me. I only got all of them because I can’t get them regularly at my Dad’s, because he doesn’t sell them, and I figured they’re on sale, and they’re not going to spoil, and I’ll just eat them over time. Then all of a sudden people were giving me a quarter a piece for them,”

  Matthew said. “You know the best part?”

  “What?” Tim said.

  “The teachers helped boost my sales,” Matthew said with a whoop of glee, turning the corner onto Ward Street.

  “How?” Tim asked.

  “What happens when they catch you with gum or candy?” Matthew asked.

  “They take it away.”

  “Yep,” Matthew said. “And I still had more to sell.”

  Tim laughed. “You’re pretty slick, Sandman. Hell, yes you can pay for my ticket.” Tim smirked. “How many of them did you sell?”

  “All of them.”

  “Double hell yes, on the ticket,” Tim said, pushing Matthew lightly.

  “If you didn’t eat any … that’s, like, what? … Four sold is a dollar … ten times that is forty and ten dollars … CRAP! You sold eighty and took in twenty bucks?”

  “Well, it did cost me eight to buy them,” Matthew said.

  “Still, man … twelve dollars total on the upside; awesome.” Tim shoulder bumped him casually.

  Matthew teased, “And Mr. Standish said you’re terrible at math.”

  Tim cracked a small smile at Matthew’s comment. “Don’t let old man Beltmore catch you or you’ll have a seat reserved next to mine in his office.”

  Matthew said nothing in response, but he hadn’t given that any

  thought either.

  “We going to cross over to go uptown or are we going to stop at your Dad’s store?” Tim asked as Matthew gazed up the street and to the left towards Melissa’s. “Go knock on the door and see if she can come with us.”

  Tim nudged him.

  “What?” Matthew asked like he was coming out of a daze. “Oh, no man, I don’t think her father would let her. Got a thing about her hanging around with boys.”

  “Boys? Or just you?” Tim asked and pointed over to the front porch.

  Matthew looked up. Michael Anderson sat on the front porch with Melissa. Michael waved to them, and Melissa turned her head.

  “Hi Matthew,” she called out. Matthew only waved back in re
sponse.

  He looked up at Tim.

  “Girls, man. Sorry, dude,” Tim said quietly and glanced over across the street.

  “For what? We’re just friends, you know,” Matthew said in a subdued voice. He stopped walking when Michael and Melissa crossed the street and glanced down at his watch.

  “Where you two headed?” Michael asked.

  “We’re headed up to the Center Cinema to see ‘Nighthawks,’”

  Matthew said as brightly as he could.

  “That’s rated ‘R’—they’ll never let you in,” Melissa said, stepping up the curb and onto the sidewalk. She went to move in a little closer to Matthew, but he stepped back.

  “My Dad read the review and decided it wasn’t an issue for him. He called the theater and asked if the parent needs to be there and buy the ticket, or if I can go in with permission and the owner said that as long as I have permission … so off we go.”

  Michael looked over at Matthew. “How are you so sure they’ll let ox, here, in?” He pointed at Tim.

  “Well,” Matthew said, looking at Tim, who flushed with anger at the comment. “I guess I didn’t think of that. I already have permission. Tim clearly looks older, being that much taller, but clearly not seventeen. If they

  want my money, they have to take his too. I guess if they can afford to turn us away they will. Theaters aren’t going to lose a permit or anything letting us in.”

  “How do you know?” Melissa asked.

  “I heard my dad talking to the owner. He used the same line of thinking. All I can do is try it. All they can do is say no. If we don’t go, then it’s ‘no’ for sure.” Matthew shrugged.

  “Makes sense,” Michael said, then turned to Melissa. “Want to tag along with them?”

  Melissa turned and looked blankly at Matthew, then quickly over to Michael. “Oh, I can’t, my Dad …”