Michelangelos Shoulder | Page 7

a pain in the ass, but
he had a point--sometimes you have to make a move.
Two men wearing similar clothes--pressed jeans, T-shirts, white
running shoes, and sunglasses--walked up and took benches closer to
the water. One was older, softer, beginning to put on weight. He sat
with his elbows on his knees, looking across the harbor. The other,
fitter one, stretched full length on his bench, arms out flat behind his
head, and stared into the sky. Neither looked happy. They remained
unmoving, as though they were waiting for a delivery.
That is not the way, Charlie thought. He stood, dropped the empty bag
and cup into a trash can, and walked in the direction of the unknown
furled inside him.

Coming To
"I made a box. It was about so big." The speaker spread his hands on
the counter. "By about so wide." He indicated the other dimension, one
palm by his stomach, the other out by a napkin holder.
The outer hand rose over a plate of eggs. "About so high."
A smaller man at the next stool nodded, lifting his coffee mug. "About
so high."
About so high, Will repeated to himself.
"Made it for my daughter."
"For your daughter."
Made it for his daughter. Will joined the chorus. He couldn't see the
box, but he could hear it.
"Took me some shiplap--nice and dry. Made her tight. No cracks."
"No sir."
No way.
It was four o'clock in the morning. Fluorescent lights cast a bluish glow
over wooden booths, plastic covered stools, the grill, and a double
doored refrigerator. A waitress leaned against the wall by a kitchen
door and lit a cigarette.

The man's voice rose and fell. There was a question of hinging. To
hinge or not. Maybe a plain top with a handle? A hinge, but--you didn't
want the top just flopping around. "I got me some light brass chain, put
about fifteen inches on each side, inside, running to the underside of the
top. Little screw in each end. Not going to pull out those hinges."
The other man shook his head.
"I sanded her up good--you know--finished it nice."
The waitress bent forward and tapped her cigarette on an ashtray
hidden behind the counter. "You want more coffee, Herbert?"
"Don't believe I will." Herbert turned to his friend. "What do you say?"
"Don't get paid for sitting."
They left and the waitress cleared their places, sweeping a tip into her
pocket. She turned toward Will. "More coffee?"
He pushed his mug forward. "Thanks." He could see the box now. It
was solid. It had a quiet glow.
"Long night?"
"Yes." It hurt to think about it. He was still disoriented. The diner had
appeared in the night like a miracle. "We all got troubles, I guess," he
said to break the silence.
"What's her name?"
"Heidi," he said, surprised. The name tore through him.
"Heidi, huh." The waitress took a drag from her cigarette. "You're a
good looking guy. She good looking?"
He could have said, not like you, but he didn't have it in him. He
nodded.
"It's hard sometimes," she said. "I don't mean to be telling you what to
do, but you might feel better if you cleaned up a little, got those pieces
of leaf or whatever out of your hair." Will reached up and felt the back
of his head.
"I slept in the woods a couple of hours."
"You look it. Your mother'd give you hell."
"Don't have a mother."
"Oh. I am a nosy bitch."
"You're not a bitch," Will said. It was important to get something right.
"You're not a bitch. I was at a concert. We were."
"You and Heidi."
"And a bunch of her friends. It was at Cornell. String quartet. I had to

wear a tie."
"Guess you got rid of the tie."
"It's in the car--with the rest of the uniform. I'm in the service, the Air
Force. Only dress up clothes I had."
"My brother was in the Navy twenty years. Gets a check now, every
month."
"I won't make twenty."
"I've never been to a quartet," she said. "Cornell is big bucks."
"The music was great. Haydn. But her friends were laughing at me.
What's Heidi doing with an airman? They don't see too many airmen at
Cornell. We've been together since we were fifteen--high school."
"Oh, Jesus," the waitress said, "first time's the worst."
"She didn't say anything, but I saw it in her eyes--just like I saw she
was going to be mine when I asked her in the hallway to go roller
skating." Will shook his head. "I didn't even know how to roller skate.
She looked down and then she looked up and her eyes said yes and then
she said, yes. And