When the party ended, everyone went about their business except Mr. Jim and his family. Mr. Jim pulled Bill aside. He asked him to wait a moment there in the party room while he went to get something. Bill said sure and hung out by the bar where Bebe was cleaning up.
“Give me another triple bourbon,” Bill said.
“Ain’t you had enough?” Bebe asked.
“Probably,” said Bill, “but I still gotta work the night and I’ll have plenty of time to work it off.”
Bebe poured the bourbon for Bill and he downed it quickly. About that moment Henry Lee popped his head in and seeing that Bill was getting another drink he asked Bebe for one too. Bebe didn’t hesitate and poured Henry Lee his drink. He asked her for a beer chaser too and she was happy to give it to him. She was more reluctant when Bill asked her for a beer, but she accommodated him as well.
Henry Lee and Bill were both still sitting at the bar when Mr. Jim returned. In his hands Mr. Jim had his long carving knife.
“This the last thing I had in my locker,” Mr. Jim said. He smiled. “The railroad gave this to me a long, long time before either of you were born. They gave it to me cause I couldn’t afford to buy my own and I needed one to carve the roast beef they served on the train. Back then this knife was state-of-the-art. All these years I’ve kept it, kept it sharp and kept it so that it would serve me as it was supposed to. I want you to have it,” he said to Bill.
Almost as if it were ceremonious, Mr. Jim handed the knife to Bill. Bill reached out for it and held it in both his hands. It was not as if he had never seen it before, and, in fact, he had used it many times. The carving knives at Suburban were eons more modern, shaped differently, and not as long in the blade. This blade was made to be seen across the length of a steamship round. Carving steamship rounds was a tricky matter because it was hard to stay even if you couldn’t see your blade all the way through.
“I can’t take this, Mr. Jim,” Bill said.
“You can’t not take it,” Mr. Jim said. “I once thought about giving it to Yulie but I wasn’t ready to retire at that time. That boy would’ve made really good use of it. He was one fine cook. But he was a goddamn druggie. Them fucking drugs kill everything they touch. It’s goddamn diabolical.”
“Whitey done set them on us,” Henry Lee said.
“That’s bull shit,” said Bill.
“Listen boys, I got my own opinions about this stuff,” Mr. Jim said. “But that don’t matter none. It don’t matter who done what to who. It only matters what you do. Yulie was weak. He couldn’t handle the drugs. The drugs handled him. I don’t know many people who can really handle the drugs. I ain’t talking about weed. I’m talking about that shit you shoot into yourself. And there’s many forms of it. So you, little white boy, you better watch your ass and stay away from that crap. And that’s all I got to say about it.”
Mr. Jim stood there and took a long look at the both of them. He studied them up and down as if he were memorizing them, as if he’d never seen them before, except they were already etched in his memory just as Mr. Jim was etched in theirs. For the rest of his life Bill would be able to close his eyes and see Mr. Jim clear as day. He would be able to do the same with Mary, Bea, Henry Lee and even Alfreda. He could surely do it with Robert. With Robert the single most striking image would be his puppy dog eyes.
Coming Soon
