Let The Great World Spin: A Novel - By Colum McCann Page 0,108
eaten everything Corrie said, I coulda just gobbled it all down. He said, “Here’s a coffee, Tillie,” and I thought it was the nicest thing I ever heard. I went weak at the knees. He he was like a Motown whitey.
—
Jazzlyn used to say she loved him like chocolate.
—
It’s been a long time since that Lara girl came to visit, maybe ten or thirteen days. She said she’d bring the babies. She promised. You get used to people, but. They always promise. Even Corrie made promises. The drawbridge shit and all.
—
A funny-ass thing happened with Corrie once. I’ll never forget. It’s the only time he ever brought us a trick to look after. Along he comes, real late one night, opens the back of the van and lifts out an old guy in a wheelchair. Corrie’s all cagey and all. I mean, he’s a priest or whatever and he’s bringing us a trick! He’s looking over his shoulder. He’s worried. Feeling guilty, maybe. I said: “Hey, Daddy-o,” and his face goes white, so I stayed quiet and didn’t say nothing. Corrie’s coughing into his fist and all. Turns out it’s the old guy’s birthday and he’s been pleading and pleading and pleading with Corrie to take him out. Says he hasn’t been with a woman since the Great Depression, which is like eight hundred million years ago. And the old guy’s real abusive, calling Corrie all sorts of names ‘n’ all. But it just rolls off o’ Corrie. He shrugs his shoulders and pulls the hand brake on the chair and leaves Methuselah there on the sidewalk.
“It’s not my call, but Albee here wants servicing.”
“I told ya not to tell ’em my name,” shouts the old guy.
“Shut up,” says Corrie, and he walks away.
Then he turns around once more and looks at Angie and says: “Just don’t rob him, please.”
“Me, dice him?” says Angie, with her eyes all starry and shit.
Corrie raises his eyes to heaven and shakes his head.
“Promise me,” he says, and then he slams the door of his brown van and sits inside, waiting.
Corrie turns on the radio real loud.
We get down to work. It turns out Methuselah’s got enough scratch to keep us all going awhile. He musta been saving for years. We decide to give him a party. So we lift him into the back of a fruit-and-vegetable truck and make sure his brake is on, and we take our clothes off and get to dancing. Shaking it in his face. Rubbing him up and down. Jazzlyn’s jumping up and down on the fruit crates. And we’re all naked, playing the Hike! game with bits of lettuce and tomatoes. It’s hilarious.
The funny thing is, the old guy, he’s about nineteen hundred years old at least, just closes his eyes and sits back against his wheelchair, like he’s breathing us all in, a little smile on his face. We offer him whatever he wants, but he just keeps his eyes closed, like he’s remembering something, and he’s got that grin on his mug the whole time, he’s in heaven. Eyes closed and nostrils flaring. He’s like one of those guys who likes just to smell everything. He says to us something about being hungry and how he met his wife when he was hungry and then they crossed some border together into Austria and then she died.
He had a voice like Uri Geller. Most of the time when tricks say anything, we just say, “Ah-ha,” like we understand them perfectly. He had tears rolling down his face, half of them were tears of joy, and half of them were something else, I don’t know what. Angie shoved her titties in his face and shouted: “Bend this spoon, motherfucker.”
Some girls like old guys because they don’t want a lot. Angie don’t mind them. But, me, I hate old guys, especially when they got their shirts off. They got these little droopy tits like icing off the side of a cake. But, hey, he was paying us and we kept telling him how good he looked. He was getting all red in the face.
Angie was shouting, “Don’t give him a heart attack, girls—I hate the emergency ward!”
He let the brake on his wheelchair go and when we were done he paid us all twice as much as we asked. We lifted him out the truck and this old guy started looking for Corrie: “Where’s that pussy asshole?”
Angie said: “Who you calling a pussy, you pussy-ass, shrivel-dick?”