Phonebooth

           JackparkedtheVWinfrontoftheRexallintheTableMesashoppingcenterandlettheenginedie.Hewonderedagainifheshouldn’tgoaheadandgetthefuelpumpreplaced,andtoldhimselfagainthattheycouldn’taffordit.IfthelittlecarcouldkeeprunninguntilNovember,itcouldretirewithfullhonorsanyway.ByNovemberthesnowupthereinthemountainswouldbehigherthanthebeetle’sroof…maybehigherthanthreebeetlesstackedontopofeachother.

           "Wantyoutostayinthecar,doe.I’llbringyouacandybar."

           "Whycan’tIcomein?"

           "Ihavetomakeaphonecall.It’sprivatestuff."

           "Isthatwhyyoudidn’tmakeitathome?"

           "Check."

           Wendyhadinsistedonaphoneinspiteoftheirunravelingfinances.Shehadarguedthatwithasmallchild-especiallyaboylikeDanny,whosometimessufferedfromfaintingspells-theycouldn’taffordnottohaveone.SoJackhadforkedoverthethirty-dollarinstallationfee,badenough,andaninety-dollarsecuritydeposit,whichreallyhurt.Andsofarthephonehadbeenmuteexceptfortwowrongnumbers.

           "CanIhaveaBabyRuth,Daddy?"

           "Yes.Yousitstillanddon’tplaywiththegearshift,right?"

           "Right.I’lllookatthemaps."

           "Youdothat.