I knew the type of response Mr. Dell wanted. He wanted me to lock my heels at a forty-five degree angle and give the same cowering response a certain 2nd Lieutenant once tried to get out of me. But I stopped short in giving Mr. Dell the same reply I had given that 2nd Louie. Instead, I stood toe to toe with Mr. Dell and said the kindest words I could think of telling him.
“Eat shit.”
Mr. Dell swiped the glasses from his face. “You’re outta here, Peck! You’re fired!”
“You can’t fire me that easily. I’m in the union.”
“I’m ordering you to leave these premises. I said you’re fired, and believe me, I can make it stick.”
I repeated the same exit routine as the day before, only I didn’t get the chance to throw my time card in Mr. Dell’s face. Out on the platform I quickly passed by two mail handlers who were loading the trailer. No doubt they had heard the altercation between me and Mr. Dell, and they were probably aware of nasty words I had laid on Hank Bevins.
One of the mail handlers said to me as I passed, “Man, you really are the Bad Boy.”
Bad Boy was a nickname Duck had started, but for a different reason, and only a few people called me that. Now, however, I was sure everybody at the North Orange Post Office would know me by that moniker.
I couldn’t go straight home because once again I didn’t want to explain why I was home early from a job. I went to O’Leary’s. I sat at the bar, not as angry as I had been on Labor Day. Instead, I felt stupid. In less than twenty-four hours I had lost my girlfriend and my job. All I needed now was for a tree to fall on my car and my life would be complete.
Every time Mr. O’Leary brought me my change I called Skinner’s. And always I got the same reply: Nancy was too busy to come to the phone. But I knew she wasn’t too busy. She just didn’t want to talk to me. She hated me. It was over between us. If I thought crying in my beer would do any good I would do it. I did slap myself in the head a couple of times while I was in the men’s room, but that didn’t do any good either. If only I could talk to Nancy. If only I could tell her how sorry I was. If only I could tell her how much pain I was in. If only I had been born a cockroach I wouldn’t be having these problems.
I blew it big this time. What was I going to do about a job? What about my future? What would I do for money? Car, food, beer, Nancy. Everything gone.
Maybe if I went back to the Post Office and begged Mr. Dell for mercy he would let me have my job back. I would do anything, Mr. Dell. I’ll take a thirty-day suspension. I’ll never complain again. Just please don’t boot me out. Please, please, please.
But all the begging in the world wouldn’t have done any good. Of that I was sure. It didn’t do me any good in the Army, so how could I expect any different from the Post Office?
I kept looking at the clock, fearing that at any minute Ugly would show up in a rage. It was Ugly, after all, who had gotten me the job at the Post Office, and I had let him down. But by 5:30 he hadn’t shown up. I presumed he had to work overtime. Good. I couldn’t face him.
I went home and had dinner with my mom and dad. I had told them work was slow and had asked to go home early. After trying unsuccessfully another three times to call Nancy, once at Skinner’s and twice at her house, I went to the garage to finish a squirrel feeder. I fastened it to a tree, on the opposite side of a feeder previously erected. I filled all eight feeders with cracked corn and sunflower seeds, knowing the squirrels would be back shortly after dawn to eat.
The sun was descending behind the trees as I headed for the back door of the house. I heard my name called and I turned around. There was no one. Maybe I only thought I had heard my name. I got to the steps and again I thought someone was calling me. I turned around and saw no one. Was someone hiding behind the trees? The garage? I saw no one; just a squirrel. He was sitting in one of the feeders at the far end of the yard. I thought it unusual for a squirrel to be eating at that time of day. But he wasn’t eating. He just sat there on his hind quarters, staring at me with his little dark eyes. He didn’t move. No tail twitching. No nose twitching. No squirrelly chatter. Just staring. I raised my arm and slowly moved my hand back and forth. The squirrel didn’t run away. He sat and stared and didn’t move at all. Then, in that far away tree, in the waning light, amid the good night calls of the birds And the tuning of the cricket orchestra, the squirrel waved back.
I swear to God…he waved to me.
Chapter Eight
I overslept the next morning, so I couldn’t call Nancy at home. She usually calls me between ten and ten thirty during her break. We’d talk and laugh for a few minutes, and make plans for that night or for the weekend. Then she’d tell me how much she loved me and I’d say “me too.” Then we’d hang up.
Eleven o’clock passed and there was still no call. I called Skinner’s, and once again Nancy was busy with a customer, or she went across the street for a cup of coffee, or she was scuba-diving off the coast of Majorca, or some goddamn lame excuse like that.
After an early lunch, my mom wished me a pleasant day at work and I left the house. Despite everything that was happening to me I was in a pretty good mood. A positive mood. Something good was going to happen to me, I could feel it. I wanted something good to happen. Positive thinking.
It was a humid day. Sticky, with a threat of rain later. It made me wish I had bought a car with air conditioning. I drove in the direction of Charlie’s gas station. Maybe Charlie would take me back. I was sure he had long since forgotten the incident with Reverend Kerr. But a block before the station I came to my senses. I didn’t want to work in a gas station again. I hated that job!
I realized then that I had not actually received an official notice of termination from the Post Office. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I probably had not been fired at all. Mr. Dell was probably only blowing off steam and was not serious about firing me, even though he did take off his glasses. That was it! That was my positive thinking coming to being. I still had a job! Only trouble was, if I really still had a job with the Post Office, then I was two days AWOL. Crap!
My mission was clear. I had to go right away to the Post Office and talk to Mr. Dell, Mr. Stevens, and Mr. Sadhouse. I had to plead my case. Beg for mercy. I had to make them see that up to a couple of days ago I had an impeccable attendance and performance record. I could get Go-Go and Duck to vouch for me. It was a cinch to get my job back. Then my second step would be to square things with Nancy. I could do it! Positive thinking.
But first I needed a drink.
I turned the car around and headed for O’Leary’s. Just one drink to boost my courage. That’s all I needed. One little, lonely ol’ beer. That’s all. One.
Three hours later I was still the cowardly lion on a bar stool. That’s when Ugly came in through the kitchen, still wearing his carrier’s uniform. I saw him before he saw me. I could tell by the way his eyes scanned the bar he was looking for me. When he finally saw me he looked happy. I was surprised. I thought he’d really be mad at me for letting him down.
“Well, look who’s here,” he said, smiling. “It’s Peck the Bad Boy.”
“I knew that name would get spread around. Too bad I’ll never hear it said at the Post Office.”
“Oh, you’re not getting off that easily, General Screw-up. I just finished two days of negotiations with your shop steward, my shop steward, Sadhouse, Dell, and Bevins. And guess what? You’re going to be a letter carrier.”
“I am?”
“Yes. And you’re going to be the best damn letter carrier who ever looped a route. And do you know why?”
“Because you stuck your neck out