NAKED HOOPS shirt. He was probably about nineteen. Just looking at him made me feel ancient. We introduced ourselves. He seemed too pleased to meet me.
“We’re moving in downstairs.”
I had no desire to learn any more about him. “Oh, very cool.”
“Seems like an awesome old house.” He patted the clapboards like they were the hindquarters of a trusty steed.
“It’s not bad.”
Kev cut to the chase. “I don’t mean to be a mooch neighbor, but you think you could give us a hand for like—no kidding—two seconds?”
Fuck me, I thought. Another fucking favor. I should have hidden inside with the lights out, like I do on Halloween.
“We got this L-shaped sofa, and it would be awesome if we can get it in without taking it apart in the dark.”
“I’d help you out, man, but I’m expecting a call I can’t miss.”
“Two seconds, I swear. Then it’s nothing but social calls for the rest of the lease.” I said nothing. “Two seconds. Seriously. It would really save us a lot of time.”
“Okay,” I groaned. A comet tail of orange embers trailed my cigarette as it sailed over the porch railing.
“Thanks, bro. Seriously.” He slapped me on the arm.
“Let’s just do it.”
Bri was waiting for us in the back of a U-Haul trailer. He shined a flashlight in my face. “Howdy, neighbor,” he said.
Kev added a y to my name when he introduced us. I let it go. “He’s expecting a call, so let’s get this bad boy inside.” He suggested Bri push from the inside, he pull the heavy end, and I support the middle as it came off the trailer.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, like J Mascis from his tune “Green Mind.” It went over their heads.
“And lift with your legs, bro.”
We were just getting into position when the phone rang. I was already three steps in the other direction when Kev or Brian said, “I think that’s your call.”
ON FRIDAY MORNING I took the ten-mile bus trip from Amherst to Northampton. I’d seen a fountain pen I wanted to buy for Jocelyn in an antique store on Market Street. The store smelled like the inside of a canvas bag my dead grandmother stored her retired shoes and hats in. The pen was a 1930s stainless-steel job. I figured if Jocelyn was going to work in the ink industry she ought to have a decent pen. The guy wanted fifty bucks for it. I entered the shop prepared. I’d strategically planted a hodgepodge of bills equaling forty-one dollars in my front pocket. It didn’t make a fuck of a bit of difference how much money I had.
“Oooh, I’m sorry, but that pen sold.” The guy looked like Richard Burton’s homelier older brother.
“You’re joking.”
“Oh, no. A Parker like that doesn’t stay put long in my shop.”
“Damn. It was going to be a gift.”
“What a shame. That would have been a lovely gift.” At first I thought he was trying to break my stones, but he wasn’t. He simply couldn’t contain his feelings when it came to things of quality. “You know, that was not the only lovely pen I have.” He laid out four others on the glass counter. Two of them were horrible. They looked like they were made out of what’s swept up after someone shatters a Fabergé egg.
I pointed at the other two. “The simpler ones are more her style.”
“Of course they are.” He moved the gaudy offenders out of the spotlight. He started to give me the rundown.
I interrupted him. “How much?”
“Okay, then, the black Waterman is seventy-five, and the turquoise Parker is one hundred twenty-five.”
“That’s a little more than I wanted to spend.”
“I see.”
“How much are the other ones?”
“Those would be a good deal more, wouldn’t they.” He didn’t even try to up-sell me. I picked up the Waterman and looked it over.
“This one is seventy-five?”
He nodded.
I removed the cap and touched the tip. “What do I have to do to put you behind the wheel of this pen?” I said like a southern used-car salesman.
“Nothing. A pen like this sells itself. It really does.”
“Seventy-five bucks, huh?”
“Plus tax.”
“Is there any wiggle room there?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Would you take less than seventy-five?”
“I’m sorry. It’s a consignment piece. I’m not authorized to go any lower.” He took off his reading glasses and let them hang from their chain. “I could contact the owner and ask if that’s his absolute lowest price.”
“That would be fantastic.”
“If he wasn’t in Europe on a buying trip. Can you wait until next week?”
“I