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Show J>4 "Something with your family?" asked Rita, gCa«&»j>g^«*^Bev Ben shook his head. "Just the usual amiable shit there. But, then we went back to the hotel, to take them back, and they say come up and talk. Oy, you think I wanted to go up to that room? With alarm bells going off in me like the London blitz? But what could I do? Find out what they're after, T're pYvt>«.ity that's what. Did»d* I tell you they wanted something? h mentioned it. And you know what Papa Rubin wants? Oh, my prophetic soul.' Just for us to move to Cleveland is all. Live in their house, they've got so much room now with Amy's sister married and her brother gone -- that god damned brother's an intern, a doctor a doctor yet, so I 'm supposed to take over the family business. Lumber.' Lumber, for Christ's sake.' Before he kicks off, he'll teach me everything. And who knows, with his heart it could be any day. I'd be rich overnight. So what's anthropology already? He thinks it's archeology anyhow. He thinks I go around digging little holes in the ground. I'd like to put a two-by-four up his hole." "You can't blame him for asking," I said, just a shade maliciously. "The hell I can't.'" MfteWWe's worked all his life for that business and now there's no one to take over." "Do you want some cake, Ben?" asked fctta. "Fresh coffeee cake, home made?" The gas went out of him. He stopped cracking his knuckles and let his hands lay lifeless in his lap. "I tried to let him down easy. I can see his point - why won't he see mine? I tell him I love anthro, it'll support us, I'm a good digger of holes, the whole spiel. So finally he does give up -- for tonight - but that woman, that mother-in-law, that bitch . . . " Crack.' went a knuckle. "She let me know that an anthropologist is a nothing, a shlemiel. Yeah, told me. And told Amy she'd be sorry, she'd see what a mistake she was making, and poor Amy . . . " "Is that what she's crying about?" |
