Getting Higher (10 page)

*****

Chapter Sixteen

 

The next few days passed uneventfully for Joe and Crank. Each night, they went to sleep in their alley along Maple Avenue; each morning, they woke up early and went down to Tap's Bar. Though they had no money, Joe and Crank still hung around the bar from the time it opened to the time that Ralphy kicked them out; Tap's was the only place where they were still welcome, the only place left to go. Usually, they just sat around and talked to the guys there, or watched the little black-and-white television mounted above the bar. Once in a while, one of their friends would even buy them each a beer.

And so, they passed the time, drinking a little, sleeping in the alley, and scrounging around for food. Neither had a cent left to spend, but somehow, they managed to get by. They freeloaded when they could, hitting up old buddies now and then for a sandwich or a beer. When they had no one to feed them, they would go through the garbage bins behind restaurants. They found a lot of good food in restaurant garbage, everything from moldy vegetables and stale bread to perfectly okay meat which had been thrown away because it was a little too old. On a good day, one search through a garbage dumpster would turn up enough food for three or four days.

Several times during the next week, though, Joe and Crank did try to get some money, sneaking into Crank's old apartment building to see if their unemployment checks had come in the mail. Somehow, they made it in and out of the place without running into Charley Wills, only to find that there was nothing in Crank's mailbox except a big cockroach. Either their checks were late, or Charley Wills had confiscated their mail; whatever the reason, Joe and Crank were still broke, and had to go back to the garbage for supper.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, Joe and Crank tried the same thing, with the same results. Both days, the mailbox was empty, and by Wednesday, even the cockroach was gone. Finally, they gave up on checking the mail, and decided to just ask about it when they went to the unemployment office Thursday to sign up for their benefits.

The lines were long at the unemployment office, and Joe and Crank had to wait forty-five minutes for their turn at the window. While they waited, Crank didn't say a word; he just stood with his arms crossed, shuffling forward as the line shrank. Several times, Joe tried starting up a conversation with his friend, but never copped more than a mumble from him the whole forty-five minutes. For whatever reason, Crank just wouldn't speak; he was stony, frozen, shut off like a light--a red-headed corpse with legs that still worked.

Standing in line with nothing to do and no one to talk to, Joe looked around the office. The place was crowded, more than usual for a Thursday morning. There were people everywhere, standing in lines, sitting on benches, filling out forms on tables and counters; it was noisy, too, thrumming with the steady buzz of voices, shoes, and rubber stamps.

Joe caught a glimpse of the blonde he had talked to in the office last week, as she headed out the door. She had been standing in a line at the far end of the office, and Joe hadn't seen her until now. As she slipped out of the place, he watched her wistfully, admiring her long hair and slim figure. Joe wished that he was leaving with her; it had been a hell of a long time since he had been with a woman, and he was getting pretty horny these days.

Joe turned back around and saw that there was only one guy ahead of him in line. Behind the counter, he could see office workers hustling and scribbling, carrying files and forms and telephones. Joe recognized most of the people who were working there; at one time or another, they had all given him forms to fill out and monotone instructions to follow. The men wore suits and the women wore dresses, and none of them seemed to care much for Joe and Crank. Joe and his pal didn't care much for them, either.

There was only one worker in the office who Joe liked, a woman named Clara. Clara was always nice to him and Crank, and liked to joke around with them when they came in. Once, she had even gone to Tap's and had a beer with them on her lunch hour. Naturally, today, she was the whole way across the room, processing another long line of people. Instead of Clara, Crank and Joe were lined up in front of Mr. Nelson, a wormy guy with glasses and a condescending manner. Mr. Nelson was
not
one of Joe and Crank's favorite people.

"Next," said Mr. Nelson from behind the counter.

Snapping out of his reverie, Joe moved quickly up to the window. "Yeah, right," he said, laughing. "That's me."

Nelson said nothing for a moment. He stared out at Joe from behind his thick glasses and kept his lips sealed like a clam. "Name, please," he muttered finally, reaching for a stack of forms and a pencil.

"Joe, man. Joe Jones. Hey, pal, look. Me an' my friend here got a problem. Y'see..."

"Sir," interrupted Mr. Nelson, "if you would wait here for a moment, I need to check something."

"But it's about our checks...," stammered Joe, but the scrawny guy was already weaving back through the office. Joe saw him looking through a file cabinet, bending over a drawer and ruffling through papers with his fingers. Then, Mr. Nelson snatched a manila folder from the drawer; opening it, he read for a moment and glanced up at Joe. As Joe watched, the man flipped the file shut, closed the drawer and headed back to the window.

"Joe Jones, is it?" asked Mr. Nelson when he returned.

"Yeah," replied Joe, "it is. You know who I am, man."

Mr. Nelson tilted his glasses down on his nose and started reading from the folder he'd brought. "Mr. Jones, your unemployment compensation, begun April 15 of last year, expires this year on May 24." Nelson looked up and Joe thought that he was smirking a little. "In other words, Mr. Jones, no more government checks. Your unemployment has run out, and you have been cut off. I'm sorry," he said, but Joe could see that he wasn' t.

"What th' hell, man?" said Joe. "I thought I had an extension! You gotta' be kiddin'!"

"I'm afraid I am not, Mr. Jones. According to your file," Mr. Nelson glanced down at the open folder on the counter, "you did receive an extension as of November the twelfth last year. This was the result of additional funds allocated in Washington, which of course were distributed by the state legislature here in Pennsylvania and..."

Joe reached a hand across the counter, through the space under the window, and slapped the folder that Mr. Nelson was reading from. Nelson jumped and jerked his head up like a rabbit. "Look, man, I don't want a fuckin' history lesson. Just tell me what happened to my money, all right?"

With a huff, Nelson snatched the folder away from Joe's hand. Angrily, he stared out through his glasses at Joe and spoke with a terse, threatening tone. "Mr. Jones," he said, "I suggest that you control yourself, or you will have many more problems than you already do. You asked about the discontinuing of your compensation, and I am trying to give you information regarding that subject. If you wish to get the facts, you will kindly be quiet and let me do my job."

For an instant, Joe stared at the little man; then, he stepped back and stood with his arms folded. "Okay, I'm listenin'."

Nelson cleared his throat, then started reading once again from the file. "Very well, Mr. Jones. It says here that your extension, granted November the twelfth of last year, expired May 24, yesterday. Unless another extension is granted to you, or you receive some other form of extended benefit, you will no longer receive unemployment compensation from the United States government."

Joe shook his head in disbelief. "Aw, c'mon, man. This is ridiculous. I didn't even know about this shit."

"Sir," said Mr. Nelson, "you were informed of the duration of your extension. At the time of the extension of your benefits, you were mailed a notice listing both the issuance and termination dates of those benefits. Also, when you came here, to this office, you were again informed of all the facts. You were told, several times, how long your checks would last. It isn't our fault that you didn't bother to pay attention."

Crank, who until now had just stood behind Joe and listened, stepped up beside his friend and spoke quietly. "So, you're sayin' that Joey here is cut off, right? No more money, just like that."

"Exactly," said Nelson, shaking his head. "No more money. Unless, of course, there are additional extensions for some reason in the future."

"This sucks," hissed Joe. "This really sucks, man! I don't believe this!"

"Believe it," said Mr. Nelson, closing the file. "There's nothing you can do about it, I'm afraid. In fact, there never was. You only had so long to begin with, you see?"

"Fuck," whispered Joe. "Sonnuva' bitch."

"What about
my
money?" asked Crank. "I haven't gotten my check this week, either."

"Just a moment, please," said Nelson. Picking up the file, he walked back behind the counter to the filing cabinet from which he'd taken it. He found the correct drawer, then replaced the folder in its slot. "Your name?" he asked, looking out at Crank.

"Schaffer, man. Crank Schaffer." Crank watched as Nelson opened another drawer. For a moment, Nelson shuffled through papers and folders; then, he found the file that he was searching for and returned to the counter.

"Here it is, here it is." Mr. Nelson opened Crank's file and skimmed through it quickly. "Well," he mumbled, scanning the pages before him, "according to this, you should still be receiving compensation. Your payments began a little later than Mr. Jones's. You received a similar extension, but it started later and lasts longer than his. In fact," Nelson leaned closer to the pages, as if the file were sucking his frail body downward, "you were already mailed a check this week. You should have received it Tuesday."

"Well, I didn't," said Crank. "What happened to the damn thing?"

Nelson shrugged his skinny shoulders. "I really couldn't say, Schaffer. There could have been problems at the post office, I suppose. Perhaps it was delayed or lost in the mail. These things can happen, you know. Have you changed your address recently?"

"Sure," answered Crank. "I just moved this week. My place burned out, y'know?"

Nelson nodded, looking vaguely disgusted.

"Still," continued Crank, "I checked my old building. My mail should'a still been there, right? My check, too."

"Yes," said Mr. Nelson. "Unless something else happened." The scrawny man suddenly looked impatient; he glanced over Crank's shoulder at the long line of people still waiting for service at his window and licked his lips restlessly. "Look, you leave your name and new address, and we'll look into this. I can't guarantee anything, but we'll at least call the post office."

"Come on," said Crank, sharply. "I want my damn money. By the time you assholes get around to looking for it, I'll be fuckin' dead! I want my
check
, pal!"

"Mr. Schaffer, I suggest that you leave. I am extremely busy today and do not have any further time to spend on you. You have held me up long enough." Nelson slapped the folder shut, turned around, and walked back to file it away.

Suddenly, Crank exploded. "You fucker!!" he yelled, leaping at the counter. "You damn mother fucker! I want my money!!" He thrust an arm under the window, grabbing futilely at Nelson's distant form. Then, he pulled a fist back to shatter the window itself.

Joe moved quickly, snagging Crank's arm and yanking him backward. Before the burly redhead could smash the glass, Joe jerked him away; Crank struggled to free himself, to complete his outburst of rage.

"Let me
go
!!" he shouted, his eyes wild. "Get your damn hands
offa
'
me, Joey!"

"No way," barked Joe. "You cool it, first! What the fuck, man? You wanna' get us arrested?"

Crank kept thrashing for a minute, lunging forward with his eyes on Nelson. Nelson wasn't even looking; he was still at the filing cabinet, rifling through a drawer. Finally, the redhead let up, slumping in Joe's grip. He stopped flailing around, but his face was still twisted and crimson.

Joe began leading him away, one hand clamped on his shoulder. "C'mon, Crank," he said, "It ain't worth it, man."

Crank panted, his body tense and sweaty, but he let Joe maneuver him away. Slowly, one step at a time, the two men moved toward the door.

Behind them, everyone in the office, except Mr. Nelson, was watching. Ever since Crank had started yelling, all eyes had been glued on him and Joe; now, at least, everyone would have something to talk about while they waited in line.

Joe and Crank cut out through the doors, onto the sidewalk outside. It was clouding up heavily and looked as if it would rain.

Crank glared at the office, looking like he was ready to charge back in. "Fuck!" he screamed. "
Fuck
!!"

Joe kept his hand on his friend's shoulder. "C'mon," he said, turning him away once more. "Let's go eat. It ain't worth it, man."

Crank clenched his fists, gritted his teeth.

"Fuck," he repeated. "Fuck it all."

At Tap's Bar, Joe and Crank sat at a table and ate sandwiches. They had managed to borrow two bucks from their friend Jack, and had used the money to buy lunch.

To say the least, they were not in very good moods. Crank didn't say a word; once again, he had slammed the door shut, darting away behind his cold, silent wall to hide in some corner of his mind. Joe wasn't saying much, either; he was angry and disappointed about losing his unemployment checks, and uneasy about Crank. Neither man enjoyed his meal much, but they ate because they were hungry. Also, they didn't have enough money for food anymore, and they couldn't just throw it away.

Crank's sandwich was ham and cheese, a thin pile of cold cuts between two slices of white bread. Joe's was salami on rye. As the two men ate, they examined their food silently, watching as the meat and bread dwindled away. In the dusty dim bar, they chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed.

Finishing his sandwich, Joe drank from his glass of water and looked over at Crank. "Man," he muttered finally, setting his glass back down on the table. "Things're really fucked up, y'know?"

Crank glanced up and nodded once, his eyes gray and slatey and distant.

"I dunno'," continued Joe. "I mean, things were pretty cool there for a while. Y'know what I mean? I partied, I made a little cash, I just kind'a blew it off. It's like, I really didn't give a shit, y'know?"

Crank nodded, still chewing his sandwich.

"Now, man," Joe went on, "now, it's like, things're happenin'. Too much shit at once, too much shit. Before, things just kind'a rolled along, an' everything was cool. Now, I dunno'. I mean, I don't mind livin' in an alley or eatin' garbage, y'know? I lived worse'n that before, so'd you. It's just, it's just...I dunno', man." Joe drank some more water.