"There you go, Billy!" Mr. Jenson placed the tall root beer float in
front of the small boy at the counter. "Enjoy yourself!"
Jenson wiped his hands on a towel, then pressed his left hand against
his back, grimacing.
"Did you get injured in the war, Mr. Jenson?" Billy had abandoned the
straw and was spooning ice cream and soda into his mouth as quickly as
he could manage.
"No, Billy, I wasn't in the service."
"Well, what did you do?" His voice thick with cold.
Jenson smiled. It was a tight, thin smile, one masking the pain in
his back, or perhaps disgust. "I worked in an office, Billy."
"Really? I thought you always worked here at Sweeny's." He scooped
more of the float. "I don't know any people that work in offices."
"Not many do any more. Not many do."
"My family are all farmers. 'sept Ma, cause she teaches school."
Jenson started to speak, but then shook his head and walked to the
other end of the counter and began refilling the jar of hard candies.
But the task only took a moment and he straightened again, pressed his
back and faced the circulating fan. He tugged at his collar and tie,
then wiped the sweat from his brow with his pocket handkerchief.
But Billy remained in a talkative mood. "What'd ja do in that office,
Mr. Jenson?"
Jenson swallowed hard, then surprised at the welling of emotion,
covered his mouth.
"Wait! I bet you you was one of those 'puter guys! Was you one of
those guys, Mr. Jenson?"
Jenson poured himself a glass of water from the tap and drank half
before turning to the boy. "Yes, I worked on computers, Billy.
Computers and the internet."
"Wow! Mom says that computers was like radio with pictures. And you
could look up stuff like I do out of the Comptons!"
Jenson nodded briefly. "That's right. Just like that. But then they
turned if off and here I am, jerking soda's and staying in Sweeny's
good graces. So drink up your soda and head on home. You Mom will be
in here looking after you."
"Could you tell me more about the internet, Mr. Jenson? Nobody ever
tells me about nothing but keep'n my chores done and watch'n out to
make sure the neighbors aren't do'n nothing bad, neither."
Jenson pulled the not quite empty glass away from the boy.
"Hey, I wasn't done!"
"Go on home, Billy. And don't be asking me about things that happened
long before you was born. There are reasons folks don't talk about it
and I ain't the one to ask."
"But . . ."
Jenson came around the counter and lifted Billy off the stool and
walked him to the door. It wasn't any cooler outside, but it was just
getting dark enough to notice the gas street lights glowing brighter.
"'night, Mr. Jenson." Billy muttered as he turned right and scuffled
down the quiet street.
"Good night, Billy." Jenson sighed. He went inside and turned the
lock on the door. Looking across the street he could see Ray Farnum
staring out of the window of his hardware store at him. Jenson waved
without receiving recognition, then turned down the lights and made his
way back to his cot in the storeroom.
He groaned aloud as he eased off his shoes and laid upon the cot.
"Just turned it off. Damn me if they didn't do just that."
