We agreed to meet at the Ship’s Pub. Troy came in shortly after us with a tall good-looking blonde on his arm. He must have said hello to everyone in the bar before he reached our table. It was just like when his father had come in.
“What are you running for mayor?” Pat said.
“I’m keeping my options open, besides, it takes a smile to sell paint, isn’t that right honey?”
“You know he’s a bullshit artist,” the girl said.
Troy winked at us, then introduced her as Veronica, who managed a local bookstore.
She had a wholesome smile and breasts even Pat, the gentleman he was, had trouble not looking at.
“We met at the Y playing volleyball,” Troy said. “Veronica was captain of her team at Mount Holyoke College.”
“Troy’s an amazing player for just taking up the game.”
They both gave each other little love shoves, then Troy told her we needed to talk business for a few minutes, and she left to talk with two women she knew sitting at a table across the restaurant.
“We all want you to come back,” Pat said. “All you have to do is get a doctor’s note.”
“Fuck them,” Troy said. “I already talked to my lawyer about suing them. He says I have a case. It’s discrimination. But even if I did get back to work, I might not take it. I mean why should I?”
“Maybe they’ll even give you a raise.”
“I don’t need them. And I don’t need money. Why should I kill myself for them? What kind of difference can I make? People are going to keep dying. It’s an endless stream of misery. You never completely cure the sick. You never stop all the dying. You can’t stop the violence. It’s pointless. You know being off has been great. I’ve learned a lot of things. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in since the army. I’ve got my diabetes under control. I’m making good money -- twice what I ever made there, even with overtime. Why shouldn’t I just stay here, get married, raise a family? Tell me a girl like Veronica wouldn’t put out some big strong healthy kids for me. I could live out my life in peace. I don’t need that shit anymore. It’s not going to happen.”
“At least think about it. It’s not right you not being out there. I mean with you gone, trauma and sickness are having one field day after another. They don’t have to worry about you kicking their butts back into hiding.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Well, at least, let me wear your hat or something, just to show the flag, maybe fool them a little to give us a break. Then when you come back, you could pull it back on, and restore order to the universe.”
“You wearing a Yankee hat? I can’t turn that down. While you are trudging through the pee and vomit, me, I’ll have my head in sweet Veronica’s lap, listening to her golden words as she reads me happy bedtime stories, before putting me to sleep in her own special style.”
“You’ll be back,” Pat said. “It’s what you do.”
“Correction,” Troy said. “It’s what I did – at least until they took it away from me.”
