The morning chill grew each day, but the routine became familiar. Lou emerged from the step van, zipped up his light jacket, and nodded to the vet next door as he crossed the front lawn. Neighbors were leaving for work or walking their dogs. No one was naked.
Upstairs, Lou did his “Hi to the Sun,” had coffee and a bowl of granola, and checked for messages. He then took his compact toolbox and bicycled to the Student Union, where the Daily Herald had its offices. He met Kelly, who took him to a storage room holding many dusty desks with two or three typewriters on each one.
“Well, here they are. Sorry about the dust.” She handed Lou a sheath of blank paper. “Here’s some paper you can use to check them out.”
“Great. Thanks. I’m only seeing manual typewriters here. Which is fine. So, I’ll just start at one end and examine the machines in order. I’ll leave a test sheet in each one. Those will show how the typefaces line up, the condition of the ribbon, and help me check the platens. If these typewriters have all been sitting here for a while, most likely they’re gonna need new ribbons and platens. I’ll type out my notes and give a job estimate on that same paper. Sound good?”
“I guess that’s fine. How long will you need here?”
“I can give you about ninety minutes today. That will get me through half of these machines. I like to do a thorough check. And then we can schedule another time to finish up.”
“Do you need me to be here the whole time?”
“Not at all. You can if you want. Otherwise, come back in about an hour and twenty minutes. Or stay and I’ll tell you all about platens.”
“Er, that’s okay. I think I’ll just leave you to it.”
“No problem. I’ll get to work and see you later on.”
Kelly left, and Lou danced his fingers across the first keyboard, checking its mechanics, and already calculating his revenue for the entire job.
That afternoon the ADA office stayed low key. They were well past the media hustle that followed the summer occupation. The phone was quiet. Visitors few. There was little reason to be at the office other than the sign on the door that said Open 12-5.
Lou used the idle time to hang out in the common area and chat with whomever else was bored. His friend Howie from Off Center showed up. So did a couple of people from two new organizations in the building. There was Thao, from the Filmmakers Co-op, and Bob, who volunteered with KEFL (“You’re tuned to Eugene Free Listening community radio.”). They spoke about all sorts of things, casually, earnestly, erroneously, chiming in on whatever crossed their minds. They discussed their favorite bakeries, microcomputers, Chinese politics, David Bowie, and movie theaters. They talked about cameras and radio frequencies. They were going on about money and big corporations, and that sidetracked Lou’s thoughts to what Tomoko said, about not trusting someone she couldn’t talk to.
“Hey, guys, I need to bail. I just remembered something I need to do.”
Lou went back to the ADA office and checked the pouch of petty cash. Nearly two hundred dollars. He removed all but fifty bucks and made a note in the Daily Journal about it. He then locked up the office, flipped the door sign to “Closed,” and headed off to WECU.
Down at the credit union it was easy to close the ADA accounts. Too easy, thought Lou. He took the check they gave him to a different credit union, one that was more established and reputable. Frankly, more professional. This whole business of transferring funds to a safer place was simple enough. It just wasn’t something that came up in discussion. Lou thought about things like this for ADA. What Lou didn’t think about was his personal WECU account.
“Hi, my name is Juliette…Mind if I join you?”
With the day ending, and good things accomplished, Lou stopped for grub at the Wild Nosh deli. He ordered his usual sub, a turkey and Swiss, toasted, with a side of fries and an iced tea, then stood to the side and waited. Lou shuffled his feet. He checked for open tables. Not many. He reread the menu board, looked around at other people. A young woman giving her order looked familiar. Lou tried to place her. Pretty brunette. Tall. Glasses. Denim jacket. Bangs. Denim & Bangs! Right. Lou remembered her from that open mic night at Wally’s. That was months ago, when he went with Malcolm to see Anne.
“Order for Lou!”
Lou broke from his reverie and went to the pickup counter.
“Turkey and Swiss, fries, and iced tea?” checked the counter attendant.
“Actually, I asked for it toasted.” It wasn’t.
The attendant turned around and called to the sandwich artist. “Yo, Josh.”
“Yo, dude. What up?” The sub maker displayed a goofy grin, as if this was a special moment.
“The turkey and Swiss order was for toasted.”
“Right on, dude. Toasted.”
“You didn’t toast it, Josh.”
“Oh…uh…sorry, dude. You want me to toast it?”
The counter guy turned back to Lou. “You want it toasted? I can send it back.”
Lou replied, “Nah, someone is already toasted.” He heard a bright laugh and saw Denim & Bangs smiling at him. He smiled back at her, then took his bagged meal to the last open table.
Lou returned to his reverie of that night at Wally’s. He remembered the closeness he felt with Anne, and the mood that lingered a short while. He thought more about his friend Malcolm, who had vanished into the world of gainful employment. He had received no word from Malcolm since. No address. No phone number. Was he happy? Would he be back? And what about Malcolm’s step van?
“Excuse me.” It was Denim & Bangs. “Hi, my name is Juliette. It looks like all the other tables are taken. Mind if I join you?”
Lou was about to fall into an automatic response. A pretty girl. A nice smile. A rare and welcome opportunity. Well, of course! A half moment made the difference. He couldn’t say why, exactly, other than his heart wasn’t in it. No, his heart was someplace else.
“You know what?” Lou smiled as he got up with his sack of dinner, “You can have the table. I need to get going anyway.”
He departed the Wild Nosh, keeping the day a good one.
Lou relaxed that evening in the step van—His? Malcolm’s? He didn’t know—lit up a joint, and reviewed how life was going. His income was good enough, especially with the upcoming work from the Daily Herald. Since he didn’t spend much, he didn’t need much. He liked this living arrangement of having his own private space plus the communal areas in the apartment. Nobody and Tomoko, unique and interesting as they both were, had become great friends. His time at ADA was gratifying for its ideals and for the social aspects. He loved making his own schedule and having no boss. What could be better?
And then there was Jax. They had settled into a fulfilling equilibrium by keeping their distance. It seemed to calm them both. They would talk by phone if there was something to share. Or for no reason at all. The sound of her voice was often enough for Lou. He could enjoy her company that way. And when not on the phone, Lou could think about Jax, or talk about her, even dream about her. The drama that rose when they were together was left in the past.
Isn’t this all Lou ever wanted? Wasn’t this the perfect life?
All that Lou needed were days like these, going on and on and on.
Things are going so well for Lou. Maybe too well. I feel a giant shoe is about to drop...?