Other people

Twenty-four Haig Thomassian

Every day except God's day I am already up at five, working the horses. Every day my hands hurt from holding leather at the other end of which is a big-eye horse what don't want to do what I want him to do. This game I win every day. I stop with horses when five is on my watch again. My neck aches. My worse tiredness is in the bottoms of my feet. When I was young man, never tired, not morning, not night. Now sometimes tired in morning, bad. Anyway, five in evening is good time. I sit with my tea, staring into the fire, dreaming good parts my life long ago. I call this my "little sleep."

So this day I am having my little sleep I hear a car stop. My shotgun is on wall. The door is safely locked. I go to window, pull curtain, see George.

I unlock door, pull open, yell at him, "Who died?"

"Hello, Pop," he says. "There's no one left to die, just you and me."

"You drive five hours without telephone first? You crazy?"

"You don't answer the telephone."

"Why should I answer?" I say to him. "Who is there I want to talk to?"

"People will think you died."

"That's why you come? To pack up my things for yourself?"

George shakes his head. I let him in. "Have some tea," I say, "five hours is long drive."

"I rented the car at the airport," he says, "I didn't drive all the way to Oswego."

"Then what you want?"

George says, "I wanted to be sure you were all right."

"Why?" I say. "You think if I die I stink too much. Nobody here to smell."

Well, we talk lots of things, I tell him I got a man comes three times a week help with the horses, if I'm dead, the man knows where to look for George's telephone number on the first page of my little book that says Police, Fire, Vet, Undertaker, George.

George kids me, why don't I take a woman into the house since Marya died, I tell him I take care of myself, cook, clean house, little sex, everything. He tells me I am married to the horses. I yell at him who he married to, criminals? Judges? Floozies? Forty-four years a bachelor, everybody must think he's a you-know-what or a eunuch.

"You never bring me a woman to inspect so I know you are serious!"

That's when he tells me there's a woman in the car. "Why you not bring her in, stupid!" I yell at him. I go outside, pull open car door, say "Come in, come in."

Inside, I look at her better. She's a baby, compared to George.

I give her my hand. I give her my name. I ask her if she is a woman lawyer.

"No," she says.

I am surprised.

Well, we talk a lot that evening. I apologize for the franks and beans, it's all I got that's enough for three, they say never mind, we drink beer, it's almost like the old days when George was a boy. This girl smart. This girl has a lot of class. I ask her if she is an Armenian, knowing what the answer will be. I tell her it's okay anyway. After two hours I ask her to write down her telephone number. She looks at George. George says it's okay. I take my little book and after Police Fire Vet Undertaker I cross out George's number and write her number in. George laughs so hard I think he'll die. He understands I approve.

They have to drive back to airport. I don't kiss her cheek or anything, I haven't shaved. I pull George aside, tell him he's a lousy son but maybe I can have a nice daughter.

"Don't jump to conclusions," he tells me. "We hardly know each other."

"Liar," I say.

They get in the car. I wave. I say something. He doesn't hear me. He rolls the window down. I say again, "Tell her about the Armenians."

The next morning, 5:00 A.M., I go to my horses a new man.