Haggopian and Other Stories

Slater finished his beer, ordered two more. “Yes you are,” he said. “You just turned sour, so I know you are. Listen, I was married! Did you know that?”

Paynter knew. Three years ago she’d gone off with the milkman or a door-to-door insurance salesman or something. He’d heard it mentioned in the office, but never when Slater was around. Jim was too big and too volatile to take chances with. Apparently it had broken him up for a long time: the fact that while he was out nooky-snooping, some jerk had been doing it with his wife. Hence the creeping alcohol dependency, the cynicism, and now this bitter anti-connubial harangue. If Jim Slater didn’t straighten up, he’d soon become a marinaded misogynist. Or, if tonight was typical, he was one already.

“You know?” Slater said again, insistently, his words beginning to slur a little. “I said I had a wife!” He used the last word like it was poison.

“There are good ones and bad ones, Jim,” Paynter answered, wishing he could change the subject. “You had a mother and a father, too, but did they split up?” He knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he said it.

Slater eyed him across the table. “Actually, yes,” he said. “But good and bad? I suppose there are. At least I used to think so.” He looked away, peered into his beer, seemed to find it fascinating. At length he took a swig, said: “Tell me, what’s the most expensive thing you’ll ever buy in your life?”

“Eh?” (Maybe the subject had decided to change itself.) “A house, I suppose.”

“You suppose wrong,” said Slater. “But it’s a good try. Let me tell you: you buy a house to cage a bird. Before the bird, digs are good enough, or a grotty old bachelor flat. But when she comes along it has to be a house, for the kids. So…point made. Try again. The most expensive thing you’ll ever buy?”

Paynter’s sense of humour was rapidly evaporating. “A car?”

“A car? Hah! No imagination. But again, it’s an example of how the mind works. Why do young guys buy cars, eh? To pull the birds. And why do birds like guys with flash cars? ‘Cos they’re handy for how’s-your-father. Anyway, you’re wrong again.”

“So what is the most expensive thing I’ll ever buy?”

Slater scowled. “Your bloody marriage certificate, ding-dong!”

Paynter had to admit the wit of it, however misplaced, mordant. “Jim,” he said, “Judy and me are different. I mean, are you really worrying about us?” He smiled, sadly shaking his head, trying to convince Slater how wrong he was. “We’re…different,” he said again.

Slater couldn’t be swayed. “See, I’ve worked for Dexter for a long time,” he said. “His little girl Judy’s been around ever since she was oh, fifteen? You think you’re the only young, good-looking filth-ferret in the business?”

Paynter was still smiling, but it was frozen on his face now, totally humourless. “I think you’ve said enough, Jim,” he said.

“Eh?” It was the other’s turn to display his surprise. “You think I’ve said—? Well if that’s what you think, then I haven’t said nearly enough!”

“Enough for me, anyway,” said Paynter. He stood up, almost sent their beers flying, headed for the door. Snatching his overcoat from a peg, he knew Slater was right behind him. The bartender called good night after them, but neither one answered him. And then they stood outside on the pavement like strangers, buttoning their coats, silent in the dark and the drizzle. Slater radiated misery, Paynter anger, and each was physically aware of the other’s aura.

After a while Paynter said, “Forget it.” He looked this way and that, uncomfortably.

“Yeah, yeah,” Slater mumbled. As close as he would get to an apology. “Hey, my car’s round the corner. I’ll drop you off.”

“No, it’s…are you sure?”

“Sure. You can’t walk in this. It’s only fit for fish. Soaks through everything—even a soak like me!” Another apology.

Paynter softened. “You’ll be OK to drive?”

Slater managed a smile, however wry. “When I’ve had a few is the only time I am safe to drive!” They ran through layers of mist and rain to find his car. When they pulled up in front of Paynter’s place fifteen minutes later, and as the younger man was getting out of the car, Slater said: “Andrew, if I turn this best man thing down, you won’t think too badly of me?”

“I guess not. No one knows I was going to ask you, anyway, so no one can get upset.”

“It’s just that—”

“It’s OK, Jim. I know…”

• • •

The next morning Paynter “overheard” a conversation where Slater and Dexter talked in the latter’s office. In fact the entire office overheard it, for Dexter was angry and Slater surly. “Jim,” Dexter’s voice was hot, exasperated, “I just don’t know what gets into you. You called this woman…names!”

“She deserved every one of them,” Slater answered, his voice rumbling as always.