Free Onward Toward What We're Going Toward by Ryan Bartelmay Page A

Vegas?”
    â€œThat’s where I’m from. Yeah.”
    â€œHow many suits you own?”
    Green was wearing a maroon suit that day with a white pocket square in the breast pocket, a paisley tie. “About eight.”
    â€œThey don’t sell suits like that around here.”
    â€œThey probably do. Somewhere. I haven’t really looked around, but I bet they probably do. There were a few stores in Vegas.”
    â€œRule number one. Drop the . . . ” He motioned to the suit. “You sell cars?”

    â€œI’m a bookie. I told you. I used to work at a bank, though. I’m retired.”
    â€œGod does not see as you see. You judge by appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart.”
    â€œThat’s from a movie isn’t it?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œSo, you think the suit is too much.”
    â€œThe Lord looks into the heart. You judge by appearance.”
    â€œWhat movie is that from?”
    The guy rustled his paper. “I wanna get back to this article.”
    Green got up and took a stool at the bar and ordered a vodka on the rocks. He squeezed some lemon into the clear liquid, followed by a couple of packets of sugar. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the exchange he had just had—“The Lord looks into the heart.” He had a headache, and gulped two Tylenol with his vodka.
    Eventually, the guy got up from the table and put a Bonnie Raitt song on the jukebox, then went over to the pay phone to make a call. After he was finished with the call, he wrote something on a bar napkin, then stuffed it in his shirt pocket and sat down to do the crossword in the paper. Green watched him for a while, then ordered a cheeseburger. He offered to buy one for the guy, who declined Green’s offer.
    Green drank a beer with his cheeseburger, right out of the bottle, no small glass for him. At one point, the guy walked up to the bar and ordered another bottle of Bud. He nodded at Green, then carried the bottle back to his table and poured some in his glass. Then he went to the bathroom, and when he came out, he played the same Bonnie Raitt song he’d played earlier. Green had hoped that observing another bookie would help him understand how to become a bookie, but it didn’t. The bookie seemed like just some guy in a bar. Then it hit Green: that was the trick. He needed to look like some guy in a bar.

Three
    Diane & Chic & Lomax Waldbeeser or, the Waldbeeser family extended, the first time

    January–July 1952
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    Despite her rejection, Chic still had a hard time keeping his mind off of Lijy. Standing in the shower one morning, trying to push thoughts of Lijy from his mind, he became so consumed with guilt that he started weeping. Then, he felt guilty for weeping. Fathers didn’t weep. They wore neckties and drank coffee and sometimes, by mistake, backed into a car in the grocery store parking lot, but even then, they didn’t weep. They also didn’t think about other women, especially their brother’s wives, and they certainly didn’t think about other women while they took showers. He shut off the water and stood there dripping. He could do this, he told himself. He thought of his grandfather telling his father to get his act together.
    To try to and keep his mind occupied, Chic threw himself into projects for his newly born son, Lomax. He re-carpeted the basement and changed out the hinges on the closet doors and checked every shingle on the roof, which took him two full weekends and resulted in a sprained ankle when he lost his footing and fell into the backyard.
    One night after dinner, Diane put Chic in charge of looking after Lomax while she scrubbed some pots and pans in the kitchen. Chic placed the baby on a blanket on the living room floor and switched on “The Lone Ranger.” Lomax withered and giggled and squirmed, but after a few minutes, neither the television nor his son held Chic’s