When they'd finished doing whatever damage it was they'd come to do, they walked out without stopping by Desire's office. Once they'd gone, the excitement went with 'em. Weren't no attention spans in Roundly's long enough to think on about Waldo. Saifon saw him get to his feet and stagger out the back door. She looked back at Ribs.
"Ribs, what color's that ball you're holding?"
"Color?"
"Yeah. You know. Is it blue or red or what?"
"Shoot, China. I don't rightly know."
"You're color blind, ain't you?"
"Hell no. I can see white real good."
"S'what I figured. You been lacquering here for two years, and nobody noticed you can't tell the colors apart. I love this factory. I think it's time you got promoted to packing."
"Gee, China. You think so? Thanks."
She left him smiling at his good fortune at being promoted to a job that paid a dollar a month less, and went out back to find Waldo. He was hiding behind the trash. She went over to him.
"I was …" He looked up at her surprised and she could see he was crying. It embarrassed her. He wiped his eyes with his big old hanky. "Sorry, I'll ask you later." She turned to go, then turned back. "Hell, no I won't. What you crying for Waldo? What them pigs want with you?"
"Nothing," he blubbered.
"Nah. I seen nothing before, and it don't look nothing like this." He blew his nose so loud, some folks inside thought it was the lunch horn. "I ain't leaving here till you tell me. I ain't being nosy. I know it helps to talk about stuff."
He thought it over for a minute or so, and she was right. It would help to talk.
"Lerdo de Tejada. It's in Mexico." She crouched down in front of him. He wrestled his nose with the hanky. "I been saving for ten years to go to a pretty little retirement village on the coast there. I met this guy in McDonalds, see, and … Shit. It's a long story."
"Give me the ending."
"It was … I can't believe it." He started to bawl again. She looked away.
"It was what, Waldo?"
"It was …a scam. Some old biddy hired a private dick to go down there and check the place out for her. There weren't nothing there but goddam sugar cane. No one ever heard of the Lerdo de Tejada Retirement Village. The old biddy called the cops. They traced the address, staked out the post office box and the bank, and rounded up this gang of con men. Seems there was over a hundred old fools out there paying them money for a dream."
"Oh Jees." She had her face in her palms and peeked out through her fingers.
"I was so sure it was above board, Saifon. The guy was an attorney even. If you can't trust a lawyer, who can you trust?"
"Right."
"The gang spent most of the money on the high life. Cops said I might get something back but I shouldn't hold my breath. It could take years."
Saifon didn't think she needed to tell him how dumb he was, cause she figured he must know that himself already. But she wasn't sure what else to say. The guy's life savings and his dream was all sitting in a lock-up in the state capital. Ain't much you can say to cheer a guy up in a situation like that.
"You really screwed up, Waldo."
"Tell me about it."
23
If it ain't no different from pre-retirement, retirement ain't nothing to look forward to. If all you got to dream about is dribbling showers, screaming neighbours, and silent TV dinners, you might as well not dream at all. And if you ain't got dreams, what's the point of being alive?
It probably ain't easy to imagine how it felt when Waldo's world fell in on top of him. He didn't have nothing in his present, now he didn't have nothing in his future. That, for a guy so alone and so desperate, was the end of all hope.
That's what was going on in old Waldo's head that night as he lay in bed. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Aretha about what happened. Fact that he'd only ever kept one thing from her made this secret hurt a lot more than it should of. Weren't no way he was gonna fall asleep with all them Mexicans in the dream waiting to mock him.
He even skipped supper that night. Wasn't hungry for the first time in sixty five years. Disappointment was a great killer of appetite. Anyhow, if you're planning on doing away with yourself, it seemed like a terrible waste of food, if you know what I mean.
Waldo didn't figure anyone'd miss him. He could go away someplace, pretend he was going to Mexico, and throw himself in the sea instead. No, that wouldn’t work. Weren't enough rocks in America to stop Waldo Monk floating. And there couldn't be no blood. He couldn't stand the sight of blood, specially his own. So that counted out shooting, jumping, wrist-slashing and train tracks.
Didn't leave much did it? Only one thing really. And he knew what that was and where to get it. Instead of sleeping, he planned his suicide down to the last detail. Odd thing was it made him feel better. By morning he was wide-awake and ready for work. He didn't hate his God-awful apartment no more cause he knew he wouldn't have to spend another week there.
24
She was watching for Waldo in the Chevy wing mirror. When he went past on the morning misery shuffle, she opened the car door in front of him. Either he didn't see it, or he was in a mood to walk into doors that day.
"Sorry Waldo," she said. But of course she wasn't sorry. She'd been plotting. Last night at the Butterfly while she was getting pawed by a bunch of miners from Michigan, she hatched a plan to rescue Waldo from his depression. Course then, she didn’t know he was planning to drink enough Elliots Solvent to dissolve a dozen billiard balls. She just thought she'd cheer him up some.
"Oh, hi, Saifon." She joined him on the shuffle to the gate.
"Waldo, I was wondering if you could give me some advice."
"Eh?"
"Advice. I was wanting some."
"Advice?" She noticed how he'd forgot his mind someplace.
"Yeah. I been thinking on how the cooling system on them balls straight out'a the kiln ain't even, you know? And maybe that's why so many balls get out of shape. What do you think, Waldo?"
"What? Oh sure, Saifon. We can talk about it at lunchtime. See you later." He walked on through the 'employees - male' entrance and left her stranded in front of 'employees - female' wondering if he'd heard her. This was pool ball talk. She was showing an interest. If that didn't get him excited she didn't know what would. He was in a bad way.
"Move your ass sister." She was causing a traffic jam of big industrial-sized factory gals. "Ain't they got no doors in China?"
She was too concerned about Waldo to swear at 'em.
"No."
-o-
It was about eleven when she saw him look around all shifty and smuggle something out back. She'd been watching him real close all morning. It suddenly hit her like a truck what he must of been planning. She ploughed through the sample trays. There was balls bouncing around all over the damn place. She high-tailed out through the back door like the Laotian sprint champion of the world.
The old guy was back at his trash pile. He was holding this plastic quart bottle full of something colorless up to his lips.
You seen flies, and you seen cows. And you know that no matter how much of a head of steam that fly gets up, he ain't gonna move that cow none by flying at him. Well, you'd of thought the same laws of size would of applied with Saifon and Waldo. But you'd be wrong.
She ran over and threw herself at the old man mountain, and even though she didn't weigh no more than his nose, she toppled him over sideways into the dirt, and slapped the bottle away from him. He kind of bounced some. It knocked the wind out'a the old guy, and she was worried he wasn't gonna find none to replace it. He was coughing and spluttering and his eyes was bugging out.
"What …what in heck's name you think you're at girl?" She was over sniffing at the bottle. She raised her eyebrows and sat cross-legged on the ground.
"Sprite?"
"7-Up"
"Shit." She laughed. "I thought you was …Ah. Never mind." Waldo was breathing heavy but at least
he was breathing.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"I seen nothing and it sure don't feel like this."
She smiled.
"Why'd you go and put 7-Up in a bottle the same size as one of them Elliot's Solvent containers?"
"I …I was (He was practicing. Seeing how much he could swallow in one go.) …thirsty."
"Shoot. I thought you was gonna do away with yourself." She laughed cause it was funny. He laughed cause it wasn't.
"And you wanted to stop me?"
"Yeah. Well."
They say once an old bull elephant rolls onto its back, it can't never get itself back on its feet again. Waldo couldn't get himself into a sitting position. She had to help roll him onto his front so he could get his knees underneath himself and rock back into a kneel.
"Waldo, you gotta lose some of this weight."
"Nah. It's just that I ain't been on the ground for a while. I'm outa practice." She smiled that nice smile of hers. They knelt face to face. "Saifon, that was the kindest thing anyone's done for me in a long time. I thank you."
"Ah. Shut up."
25
"What're you planning to do Waldo?" Desire asked him.
It had been three days since his suicide practice and although Waldo was still depressed, he didn't see such a pressing need to leave the planet no more. Just the thought that there was someone cared about him was enough to reconsider. Him and Saifon was getting along okay.
But in two weeks he'd be out of there and into a big empty.
"Do?"
"When you finish here."
"Hm." He saw himself emptying his locker, stepping out of the employees - male door, and falling head first into that big old empty. "Don't rightly know, Desire."
She'd called him into her office at 3PM on the Friday before he was due to leave. She'd slept off her gin hangover through lunch, and was running on coffee till she could get herself back to a bar.
Waldo figured there had to be people better suited to running a factory. Her pa had been such a hard-working sober little guy it was hard to believe this big lush was really his.
There was two of 'em worked in the office; Desire and an eighty-year old accountant, Walt. Walt's only claim to fame was in confounding medical science. Even though he hadn't had no hair since he was thirty, he still managed to suffer from chronic dandruff . That's why they called him Snowy behind his back.
Walt kept the Roundly books, like he had since he was sixteen, with a pencil. It annoyed the hell out of the external auditors but it did allow Desire to be creative. Fact was, the factory had been slipping down a slidy slope for years. They hadn't had no new customers since 1968. They relied entirely on the old faithful Desire's pa (and his pa before him) brought to the business. When them old geezers passed away and their kin sold off the companies, Roundly's profits started to get humble.
Desire drank a good deal of what was left. She was tall, and rubbery and red. Now, I can't think of nothing else that's tall, and rubbery, and red, so I can't help your imagination none. She wore clothes unsuitable for a female that wasn't sixteen years of age, and she'd waved that number goodbye some forty years hence. She was a mess was Desire.
She usually talked to Waldo like he was a trained seal.
"Sit, Waldo."
"Yes, Ma'am." He sat.
"I'm gonna talk to you in confidence now, cause you been here since my daddy's time, and I know you'll understand what I got to say."
She sat down at her desk and her little cotton frock rode up her big ugly thighs. He diverted his eyes. "You know, Waldo, that my daddy's first concern was always that he do right by his employees. 'A happy worker is a successful factory.' That was his motto, Waldo.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, Waldo, them days are gone."
"Ma'am?"
"Waldo, you're probably thinking that, seeing as you've given a large chunk of your adult life to this company, you will be getting a generous bonus and a small monthly pension. Am I right?"
"That's what I been thinking, Desire."
"Well, we ain't gonna pay it." Waldo did this expression he did that made most of his head look like eyeballs. "Don't you look at me like that, Waldo. I think you'll find I am entirely within my rights."
"Desire, I got me a contract. You can't …"
"And if you read that contract, you'd know what I'm talking about. Tell him, Walt." She crossed her legs. Man, that wasn't a pretty sight.
"Waldo."
"Walt."
Walt had a voice like Cary Grant, except for some times when his teeth fell out in the middle of a sentence.
"I have here a copy of your Roundly's contract, Waldo. Desire's right. The contract you signed didn't actually commit the company to any post-employment payments."
"But it says …"
"What it says is that Mr. Roundly would pay you a bonus and pension after twenty years of employment with the company. It does not however say that he would be paying it on behalf of the company. This was a contract between you and Mr. Roundly. When he passed away, the contract became null and void."
"It ain't worth the paper it's written on," Desire turned the screw. "I checked it with a big law firm in South Bend."
Waldo was struggling.
"Desire, I been working here thirty-eight years."
"We didn't give you no salary?"
"Well, sure you did, but …"
"Right then. Hell, Waldo. There's a war going on. You ain't gonna haggle for money when the country's in a recession are you?"
It hadn't occurred to him the country was in debt. But it didn't seem right he had to give up his bonus to pay it off. Sure, he didn't pay into no retirement fund at Roundly's. No one ever had. But, when Mr. Roundly was alive, he paid out the bonus with a big smile on his face. No question.
Waldo got this feeling. It was hard to describe. To most of us it would have been familiar. We get mad all the time, over nothing usually. But big Waldo didn't get mad, so he wasn't sure what the feeling was. He couldn't explain the craving he had to climb over Desire's desk and club her to death with her own telephone.
"It ain't fair, Desire, …Walt."
Desire was flying.
"Fair Waldo? Fair? I been more than fair. Didn't I increase your salary when I took over this factory? Didn't I pay out for new plumbing for the men's bathroom? Shit. Didn't I pay for your farewell party a few weeks back, out of my own purse?"
"You paid for that?"
"You're darn right I did. And what gratitude do I get? Here you are blaming me for some contractual error my senile old daddy made, me a single woman with barely two cents to her name." Waldo hung his head.
"Yeah. You're right Desire. I’m sorry."
"And so you should be."
26
"She said what?" Waldo and Saifon was fighting their ways through two stewed beef baguettes. They was tasty, but hard work. "What gratitude did she get? That frigging drunk whore."
"It ain't easy Saifon, a single woman running a big factory like this."
"She ain't running shit. You and Snowy the accountant run Roundly's and you know it. Half the time she don't know what you're making here. Shoot. Ain't you mad Waldo?"
"You know? I got this feeling when I was in there. It come on me all of a sudden, like heartburn. It scared me some cause I wanted to hurt someone. It passed."
"You ever hurt anyone, Waldo?" He hesitated for a bit.
"Not deliberate." He felt a pang of guilt for saying that.
It was Saturday lunchtime. It would of been overtime day if Roundly's had ever had a union. A lot of things would of been different if Roundly's had a union. Waldo wouldn't of been robbed of his bonus for one. But Mr. Roundly and Mattfield had always been against that kind of thing.
Unions meant organization. Organization meant regimentation. Regimentation meant communism, and our brave boys was over there in Nam fighting to keep communism away from these shores. Sure wouldn't be right to encourage it in the factory.
-o-
Roundly's was burnt to the ground the following day. It was Sunday. Waldo and the other eight people in the chapel heard the scream of Bill Pocock's fire engine. They figured he was letting his son Scott play with the siren again.
Preacher Le Saux was always taxing the minds of his congregation, so when he asked,
"Anyone here smell the smoke?" they thought it was one of them spiritual questions. They thought he was referring to the 'smoke of lust' from the 'tobacco of sin', that kind of thing. So they answered together;
"We smell it. We smell it." Even though they didn't smell no actual smoke.
"No, I'm serious. Can you smell it?"
"We smell it. We smell it."
They was getting quite worked up now and the preacher was frustrated he couldn't make 'em understand that he really smelt smoke. He walked down amongst the flock.
"No. Listen. Hold your noses up and sniff." They held their noses up and broke off into spontaneous rapture.
"I smell your smoke, Lord."
"Puff on that sinful cigarette, sweet Jesus."
It was Waldo first made the connection between the spiritual smoke and the smoke that came floating in through the missing panes in the window.
"That really is smoke," he said.
"I smell it O' Lord. I smell it," said sister Floretta.
"Hold up, Floretta," that really is real smoke." He went over to the door and walked outside.
Eight blocks east, the Roundly's building belched black smoke up into the blue sky. There was flames of purple fire licking out through the windows. The grease and the bird nests all made the place real combustible. It was asking to get burnt down.
Pool and its Role in Asian Communism Page 5
