Free Going in Style by Robert Grossbach Page A

short, dressed in a mechanic’s uniform. The insignia on his chest read,
     “A & J Auto.” His eyes and arms seemed somehow not to go together. The arms were hairy, knotted with snaky muscles and veins.
     His eyes were droplets of warm liquid—soft, downcast, retiring. They lit up when he spotted his visitor.
    “Pete!” said Al.
    “Al! How ya doin’? Come on in.” Al’s nephew pushed open the door. “I was just on my way out.”
    Al tried unsuccessfully to conceal his surprise. “What, uh… I mean, how come you’re home in the middle of the day?”
    Pete steered him toward the kitchen, carefully sidestepping a pair of roller skates and an open Candyland game. “Didn’t expect
     to find me at this time, did you?” said Pete.
    “Well… I’m always glad to see you, you know that,” said Al.
    They stood for a moment in the living room. “I been taking an early shift over at the station,”said Pete. “The boss was real good about lettin’ me switch.”
    “You prefer working in the mornings?”
    “Prefer?” Pete wrinkled his nose. “Nah. It ain’t a matter of preference. It’s a matter of money.” He looked over his shoulder
     toward the kitchen, then lowered his voice. “She, you know… I mean, we ain’t took a vacation since way before Kevin was born.
     She don’t say nothin’, you know, but…” His voice trailed off.
    “Sure,” said Al. “Believe me, I know what you mean.”
    “Anyway,” said Pete, “I picked up a job at night, bartendering up in the Bronx.”
    “Jeez,” said Al, “all the way up in the Bronx, huh? That’s rough.”
    “Yeah…” agreed Pete. “Little place in the southeast part. Near Soundview and Westchester Avenues, under the el.”
    “You work alone?”
    Pete grinned. “Well, they got a barmaid to help out, except every hour or so, she’s supposed to double as a stripper. That’s
     what they advertise in the window. ‘Exotic,’ they call her.”
    “I gather she’s not that attractive.”
    “Well… I don’t know about attractive,” said Pete, “but she has this habit, when she’s strippin’, of reaching down and taking
     a little of each customer’s drink. She strips on top of the bar, see, and the manager encourages her. Anyway, last week, ten
     minutes into her little act, she throws up all over the place.” He chuckled. “I think a lot of the patrons got turned off.
     They wanted an exotic dancer, but not
that
exotic.”
    “It must be rough on you,” said Al. “I was abartender most of my life, so believe me, I know.”
    Pete shrugged. “Yeah, it’s hard… but that’s the way it goes. The most difficult part is getting my fingernails clean enough
     after working on them cars all day. That’s one thing people don’t like to see, a guy servin’ drinks with grease on his thumbs.”
    “You figure you’re gonna stay at this place awhile?” asked Al.
    Pete nodded. “I have to. You know… the kids are growin’ up, they need clothes, they eat a lot more. There’s not really much
     choice.” His voice softened. “Tell ya, a couple days ago, I got Kathy a pair of earrings—first present since I dunno when.
     You know, they were little tiny things, circles… but she went crazy. She loved them.” He shrugged. “That’s worth goin’ up
     to the Bronx.”
    He led Al into the kitchen. Kathy was at the sink, washing dishes. “Kath?” said Pete.
    She looked around. “Al! How are you? How you feeling?” She shut off the water, dried her hands with a towel, and came over
     to kiss Al on the cheek.
    “I’m pretty good,” said Al. He pointed to the side of her face. “Nice earrings.”
    She smiled. “Thanks. They were a present from a secret admirer.” She paused. “Sit down, I’ll give you some coffee.”
    “Oh no, no,” said Al. “No thanks.”
    “No extra charge.”
    “No, really,” said Al. “I can’t stay too long. I was just walking by and thought I’d stop in and say hello.”
    Pete opened the screen door