Sunday Six Pack

28 the minnesota review Jonathan Gillman Sunday Six Pack "There any beer?" I shook my head. Wasn't gonna have any; had too much last night. Johnny's looking at the tv, up on the table; some old kind of show. Picture on, but not the sound. I'm looking at the floor. "Where's the beer?" "We don't got any." "Why'n't you say so?" "I did." "Nothing I heard." "With my head." Like there are flies buzzing inside it. "What happened to what you had yesterday?" "It got drunk." "So did you." He laughed. "You didn't?" I looked up. They were showing an ad: big car, everyone clean clothes. Then some kind of beer; everyone happy. "I could use one of those beers now." I looked back at the floor. "Wish I'd thought to save one." "I don't." Head down, leaning forward, eyes shut. Flies still buzzing. "None in the refrigerator?" "Check if you want." He nodded, stayed there. "I sure feel like one." On the tv they changed to something else; I couldn't figure out what. "Cold, just opened. Don't you?" I shook my head. "Not for me." It fuzzed me up til nothing was clear. The picture was all lines. Johnny kept watching. The afternoon was passing. The worst of the heat'd be done before long. Open the shades and windows, let a little breeze in, sit out on the steps til bedtime if the dust wasn't too bad. Sitting and talking. A child was crying. I listened. Rose Dawn and George were out there. "You got any money?" I shook my head. "Spent the last of it last night." I put my hand in my pocket. "AU except two dimes." "What about the cookie jar?" "Look." Gillman 29 "There was some." I nodded. He sat there, looking at the tv. The picture was back, showing someone 's insides. Then something about a chain saw. "Marisa didn't take it for bus fare?" "She might've." After a minute he went over, looking in the cookie jar. "She took it." "It isn't every day she sees her mother." He walked around. "What've you got to pawn?" Toaster was gone. Not much else left: stove, refrigerator, table, few chairs, old sofa, couple a beds, bureau. "Nothing of value." That made me chuckle, talking of things "of value." Used to think the dawn, up north, cool even on the hottest day, fresh, that was of value. Named the girl for it: Rose Dawn. Didn't have them like that here; don't know what it was, too many people, maybe, not enough grass. Course they didn't have work up there, so I was here, and most everyone else. Not that I had work here, but it was there, some people had it. Not too many I knew. But how could you hope to get it if where you were it wasn't. That's how the thinking was. Myself, I was for going back to the old ways. I tried once, hunting, trapping, eat and wear what you catch. I'd've starved, though, wasn't for assistance. I never learned how, growing up; no one taught me. Still go back, if I could. Not Marisa; she likes it here. More going on. Rose Dawn and George are the ones. Got to teach them the old ways before they're too old, only I don't know them; those dying out that do. They haven't even been up north since they were little. AU they know is stories. "What about the tv?" I looked. "It's okay." "I'll pawn it." "You're the one watching." "We can get beer for it." "I don't want any." "Okay, we're doing it. Call a cab." "Some time you should." "I don't like talking on the phone." Walking outside, I had to squint, the sun so bright after the dark inside . Heat rising in waves off the buildings, making it hotter. I walked down to the pay phone, put the money in; it was working. "Rose Dawn, George, if the yellow comes, tell me. Okay...