funeral. I make more by the hour doing tree work. But not as much as you’d make nursing. That’s good steady money.”
How could I tell Helen what I could barely tell Lily? I couldn’t go back to nursing after Perley came. I couldn’t go back to the clinic to have the truth forced on me: Everyone was just parts waiting to fail. Perley’s body, precious to me, wasn’t precious, or even special. No one was special. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw again and again all the ways we could get bad news. I wasn’t strong enough to face that every day and then come home and face Perley. Now that the bad news was actually here, I didn’t feel any stronger.
But I wasn’t going to tell Helen all that. It didn’t matter, not now. Even if I decided to go back to the clinic today, after seven years out of work, it would be too late.
“It’s steady money, all right,” I said. “Too steady. You think I haven’t done the math? Too slow and steady for the ninety-day review.”
“It would help,” she said.
“It’s not enough,” I said. “It’s not enough for a septic system. It’s not enough for a lawyer. It’s not enough when things go wrong.”
“You’re not going off and leaving, not right now,” she said. I sprayed vinegar, wrung a dishrag.
Fifteen thousand dollars. That sum of money made me know I was a useless piece of shit. Didn’t have it in savings. Didn’t have it on the horizon. Didn’t know anyone who did. Like not asking for help on the house, didn’t want to admit to any of these assholes that I couldn’t provide for my own family. And anyway, how did I know they were my own family if I couldn’t provide for them? As I’d always suspected, I was bound to be alone. Lily wouldn’t talk to me. Perley at every turn chose the Mean Aunt and even the ice-cream cake intake worker over me. The law said I was a nonentity. Might as well be a nonentity somewhere I could be useful. Fifteen thousand dollars. Maybe if I had that, I could buy my way back in.
* * *
Next morning, I cursed my leaking truck, cinched up my hood, and started walking to town. Got about halfway, a good three miles and an hour through the cold, when Rudy pulled up next to me in his truck. “Where the hell are you going?” he asked. “Do you need a ride?”
“I’ll accept it,” I said. “I guess I’m going to the library.”
“The least you could do is let me buy you breakfast first,” he said.
The dive bar on the edge of town looked closed but was never closed. Inside, the place was warm and dark, heat vent blasting, pool table in the corner, beer signs dim, no other customers. We sat at the bar and Rudy ordered a Natural Ice from a sleepy bartender, one for me too, though I hadn’t had a drink in years. He asked for peanuts, but was informed the peanuts didn’t come out until 4:00 p.m.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I could have sworn they had free food.”
“Shouldn’t you be hibernating by now?” I said. “We usually don’t see you until spring.”
“This year I’ve got the nursery,” he said. “It’s doing wonders for my mental attitude. Keeps my paranoid fantasies at bay. Makes me less defeatist. Still staying low-level lit, though. When I’ve got the money.” He sipped foam. I followed suit. The deeper I got into the glass, the better it tasted.
“Septic’s likely to cost fifteen thousand,” I said.
“Shit,” Rudy said, and I suddenly loved him for the simple fact that he was neither Lily nor Helen.
“Just out of curiosity,” I said, “what would you do?”
“You know how people do it around here when they need money fast,” Rudy said. “They go north.”
“Right,” I said. I’d just wanted to be sure.
“Plenty of work on those rat crews,” Rudy said. “High turnover. Get sick, get hurt, get attacked by some male. There’s a reason they call them man camps. It’s no place for a woman, but you probably don’t care about that. That probably makes you want to do it more.” He ordered another beer. “And a cup of coffee,” he said to the tender.
“What the hell do you know?” I said. “It’s the only way I can think of.”
“Have you told Lily?” he asked.
“Lily won’t likely forgive me,” I said. “But then, she also won’t forgive me