Manny belched. “How can you say that? It’s local business building it. A lot of good work for me. Pays the bills and then some.”
“Well, sure, it’s good for you building it,” Russell conceded. “But places like that put small downtown shops out of business.”
Manny dismissed this with a snort and shook his head. “You been downtown lately? Most everything moved into the new mall. What’s left is antique shops, craft stores, places like that. Stuff they don’t sell at the Mega Cart.”
Russell considered this point while polishing off the last of his lunch.
“Is Ajax Novelties still there? I bet the Mega Cart doesn’t sell whoopee cushions.”
“They might be able to get you a gross of them,” Manny answered, putting his empty plate aside. “But Ajax, yeah, I was by there not too long ago. Thought about buying a joy buzzer, but didn’t. Should have.”
“We all have our regrets,” Russell rejoined.
They sat for a moment, quietly enjoying a faint breeze.
“So, what are you doing?” Manny asked.
“Sitting here.”
“And, what are you going to do next?”
Russell shrugged.
“You got everything in your kit?”
“Yep,” Russell affirmed, his eyes cast across the lake.
“Got everything you need? Camping gear? Tent, stove, all like that?”
“I got everything, man. I’m handy, you know.”
Manny scratched his chin, then fished a box of cigarettes from a pocket. He took one and held the box out to Russell, who declined. Manny lit his, got up and sat on the porch railing, leaning back against a post by the stairs.
“How long you sticking around?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Until I feel like leaving. Or until you kick me out.”
Manny smiled through the cloud of his exhalation. “I just couldn’t do that, man, pick up and take off like that. I mean, it’s cool that you can—but I’m just not wired that way, you know?” He looked around. “I’m digging my roots deeper here.”
Russell nodded in agreement. “It’s a great house, and you guys are looking good. It suits you.” He stretched out on the swing. “So what’s next? Kids?”
Like a spouting whale, Manny tilted his head back and directed a stream of smoke into the sky. He cleared his throat and spat over the side of the porch.
“Ah, yeah, maybe. I don’t know how much Carmela’s talked to you about it.”
“She’s mentioned wanting kids, that’s about all.”
“OK. Well, about a year ago we decided we were ready, right? I mean, she was ready a long time ago, but I wasn’t until we had it more together. Then I decided I was as ready as I’d ever be, so she went off the pill. But, hey—nothing yet. I don’t know. I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong. Know what I mean?”
Russell frowned. “I don’t know much about that.”
“What? You don’t know how babies are made?” Manny replied, taking another drag.
Russell shot him a tired look. “Fertility problems. I’ve only ever cared about making sure I don’t get anyone pregnant. I’ve never had to worry about trying to make it happen.”
“Uh-huh,” Manny contemplatively intoned. “Well, she wants to see a doctor, and I’m not so sure I like that idea. I mean, if something’s wrong with her, she’s going to feel like shit. It’s become so important to her in the past couple years. She wants lots of them, too, like four or five. She’s got names all picked out, and she’s been making baby clothes and stuff.” He got up and snuffed his cigarette in an ashtray on a windowsill. “And then, if it’s me, how’s that going to change how she thinks about me? Maybe she’d start thinking she married a dud, you know—firing blanks. It would definitely change things between us.”
Russell came within a breath of offering to try to get Carmela pregnant. He held his tongue, with the thought flashing in his mind that a few years ago he would have gone ahead and made the joke. Of course, a few years ago there would have been no context in which to make it. He changed the topic and inquired about Victor Van Donkersloop, their old friend who surprised everyone in their little coterie a few years ago when he joined the Navy.
“I see his mom around sometimes, but haven’t heard from him since forever,” Manny said, shaking his head. “I think Carmela wrote to him once but never heard back. You know how he is, though—we probably won’t hear from him until he just shows up one day.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a low, distressed moan. They walked across the porch and saw a large cat on the grass. Two swallows flew around, twittering loudly and harassing it by buzzing overhead. It hunkered down, ears folded back, and kept groaning.
Manny cheered on the birds. “That’s it. Get her. Get her good.”
“Poor cat. Why doesn’t it run away?”
“Too fat and stupid. Get her. Pluck her whiskers out.”
Russell shot him a look.
“Oh, I hate that cat and it knows I do. I want a dog, but Carmela hates dogs. Never mind that I hate that cat, but Carmela gets her cat and I don’t get a dog.” He grinned out one side of his mouth and scowled out the other. “That’s married life, I guess.”
He turned his back on the little drama of nature in his yard and walked to the door, saying, “Hey, Russ, can you put those dishes in the sink? I gotta take a leak and get out of here.”
Russell was washing the dishes when Manny returned, carrying a pair of socks.
“Hey, that’s cool—I didn’t mean for you to wash them, but thanks.”
Manny sat at the table and began to unlace his boots.
“So, how much money you got for your little trip?” he asked, peeling off his socks and dropping them on the floor. Russell leaned against the sink and paused before answering.
“About seven hundred bucks.”
Manny snorted. “Really? How long do you think that’s going to last?”
“I don’t know. As long as it lasts.”
“Have you even thought this thing through?” Manny asked, spreading his toes and airing his feet. “You don’t know how long you’re staying in town, or where you’re going, how long your money’s going to hold out, or how you’re going to keep going when it’s gone.”
He looked at Russell, who shrugged and said, “I’m playing it by ear, making it up as I go along. I’ve been doing the same thing for, what, five years now? And I don’t feel like I’ve done anything, really. Nothing important anyway. Got to the point where I was in a real rut. I needed to shake things up. So here I am, shaking it.” He did a sort of jig while Manny put on his fresh pair of socks.
“Yeah, I can see that.” Manny laced up his boots. “But seven hundred bucks ain’t squat, and you’re going to get sick of camping out. You’re going to run out of cash and end up somewhere else besides Cincinnati doing the same thing and falling in the same rut, and all you’ve done is change the scenery.”
“Well,” Russell began, getting a little annoyed at his friend’s critical analysis, “that’s one way it can turn out.”
“I just call it like I see it, you know? I want to things work out for you. All I’m saying is, you should think about what’s going to happen and be ready for it. Of course, I suppose you can always