Bits And Pieces

“Explain to me again how this works, just to be sure I understand you. Who writes the paychecks for Bennie?” Mrs. Brown frowned and turned to face her client. “Bennie, would you leave us alone for a few minutes?” She rummaged in her purse and found a dime. “Why don’t you go down to the lunchroom and buy yourself a nice Coca-Cola? I’ll be down there before you can say Jack Robinson.”

  “Jack Robinson,” said Bennie, thickly.

  “Such a sense of humor, please Bennie, run along. There are a few things I need to discuss with Mr. Beeksma.”

  Bennie took the dime and thanked Mrs. Brown quietly before pausing at the door. He scratched his head.

  “Down the hall to the right, you can’t miss it,” said Mr. Beeksma.

  Bennie looked at Mrs. Brown, who was making a subtle hand gesture to indicate which way was right. Bennie nodded and slowly left the office.

  Bennie Lynch wasn’t used to being on his own and he walked the hallway with a deep sense of trepidation. He was short and thin and although he was middle-aged, he appeared to be much younger. There was something not quite right about his face and his expression was best described as perpetually confused. He wore his best sweater and a new pair of Oxford loafers for their trip to the city and his hair had been trimmed neatly that morning in the kitchen. He held the dime in his right hand, clutching it tightly. He wasn’t used to having money and he was afraid he might lose it. He remembered seeing the large soda machine on their tour. He had watched a tall man put some money into it and he had listened as the glass bottle of Coca-Cola had clink-de-clinked as the man extracted it from the top of the machine. Bennie was excited to try it for himself.

  He nearly passed the lunchroom, did in fact, but he backed up when he heard the machine’s unmistakable sound as it dispensed a soda. He peered inside and saw that the large room was nearly empty, except for three men who were gathered around one of the tables. Bennie summoned his courage and walked inside, as if he belonged. He held his right hand up to his chest, still clutching his dime, and he walked directly to the bright red soda machine. Bennie smiled, suddenly feeling independent and quite grown up. He studied the selections.

  “Will ya get a load of that?” asked one of the men at the table.

  “Hey, Oscar, look over there. I think it’s our new lead man!”

  Bennie cautiously looked over at the men and then he turned around, expecting to see someone standing behind him. There was no one there. Was a janitor called a lead man? Bennie didn’t know. He waved at the men and smiled and returned his attention to the machine.

  “I think he likes you,” said one of the voices.

  “I like that sweater,” commented another. “Do you suppose it’s a real cardigan? I’ll bet his mommy picked it out for him.”

  Bennie looked down at his sweater. He liked it, too. But, his mommy hadn’t picked it out for him; he had never met his mother. Mrs. Brown had bought it for him and he wondered if he should tell the men that. He decided against it and lifted his right hand to put the dime into the slot of the humming soda machine. He would try a Coca-Cola.

  “Oscar, I think he’s going to take your bottle of Coke,” said one of the men. “Are you going to let him get away with that?”

  “Heck no!” replied Oscar.

  Bennie heard the men and his hand began to tremble. He was suddenly unsure of himself and wished Mrs. Brown would hurry up and find him. Then, much to his horror, the dime slipped from between his finger and thumb and Bennie let out a gasp as he watched the dime roll under the machine. He immediately fell to his hands and knees and began searching for the dime. Mrs. Brown would be so disappointed in him. He had to find that dime, he just had to.

  There was a roar of laughter from the table and Bennie ignored it. He continued looking for the dime, reaching his hand under the Coca-Cola machine and sweeping it back and forth across the sticky tiles underneath it. He felt something, it was just at his fingertips and he strained to reach it. Finally, with his arm all the way under the machine, he was able to slide whatever it was out from under the machine. Bennie grinned, it was his dime.

  There was a cheer from the table. Bennie held the dime up to show the men that he had found it. It was covered in lint and sticky from whatever had been on the floor. He prayed that it would still work in the machine. He dropped it into the slot and then he opened the door and chose the coldest looking Coca-Cola in the machine. Clink-de-clink… and Bennie was suddenly in possession of the bottle. He held it in both hands, relishing in how the cool glass made his sweaty palms feel. He carefully slid the bottle neck into the opener and popped the top.

  The bottle made that funny sound as the bubbles rose to the top. Bennie smiled. He raised the bottle to his lips and he took a long, satisfying drink.

  “I guess the retard didn’t hear you, Larry. I’m sure he just took Oscar’s Coke. I’ll bet Oscar’s going to be pretty mad about that!”

  “Gee, you’re right. Oscar doesn’t like anyone taking his Coca-Cola. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes…”

  “What did you guys say? Did you say that somebody took my bottle of soda?”

  Bennie turned away from the men. He didn’t like what they were saying and he had been called a retard enough to know that they were talking about him. He hadn’t taken Oscar’s bottle of Coca-Cola; there were a whole lot more where this one had come from. The men just wanted to give him a hard time. They were being mean.

  “Hey retard!”

  “What did you say?” questioned the unmistakable voice of Mrs. Brown. Bennie was very happy to hear her stern voice.

  “I didn’t say anything, did I Larry?”

  “Not a word, Oscar.” replied Larry.

  “Must have been her imagination, I think it’s going around.”

  Mrs. Brown; dressed in her Sunday hat and her long wool coat descended upon the table like a tiger. Bennie watched her and took another drink of his soda. She didn’t approve of name-calling and she was going to bawl these men out, he just knew it.

  “Don’t you boys get smart with me,” she said, shaking her finger at them in disgust. “You, of all people,” she said, pointing directly at one of the men.

  “Me?” asked the tall man in the green work uniform.

  “I recognize you, I never forget a face. You go to Saint Matthew’s over on Johnson Street. I’ve seen you before. What would Father Callahan think of you right now?”

  “Oh cripes, lady, you made your point,” said the man, running one hand across his crew-cut hair. “You ain’t got to say nothing to the Father, I’m sorry. We all are, right boys?”

  “What?” asked the one that Bennie had assumed was Oscar. “Sorry? Why the heck would any of us be sorry? What’s wrong with you, Larry?”

  “Just let it go,” said Larry.

  “You goin’ soft on us, Larry?” asked the other man, who hadn’t yet been named. He was fat, like a loaf of bread that had risen too high, thought Bennie.

  “I’ve been going to Saint Matt’s all my life. My kids are in school over there. You guys know that. Like I said, will you please just let it go? I don’t need any trouble.”

  “Yeah,” said Oscar. He was a tough-looking man with greasy jet-black hair that was combed back like Elvis Presley’s. He wore a short-sleeved shirt that was cuffed to expose his muscles. “Well, I don’t go to church and I don’t give a plug nickel what this old broad thinks of me, see? I say her friend over there is a retard.”

  Bennie watched in horror as Mrs. Brown swatted at the man with her hand bag.

  “What the devil is going on down here?” exclaimed a loud voice from the door to the lunchroom. It was Mr. Beeksma and Bennie was very happy to see him. “Oscar, Larry, Walter, I want to see the three of you in my office, right now!”

  “You had better leave him alone,” Mrs. Brown warned Oscar as he began to get to his feet. He was red-faced and his eyes never left Mrs. Brown’s as he rose. She returned the glare.

  Bennie turned away
from the men as they approached, pretending that he had another dime and might decide to have another bottle of soda.

  “I’ll meet you down there,” said Beeksma in a stern voice. He waited for a long moment as the sound of the men’s sullen footsteps retreated down the hallway. “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing,” Mrs. Brown said quickly. “We were just having a little discussion, isn’t that right, Bennie?”

  “They called me a retard,” said Bennie.

  “Did they?” asked Mr. Beeksma. “Well, Bennie, don’t you worry about a thing. That certainly won’t happen again.”

  “Thank you,” said Mrs. Brown.

  “Thank you,” repeated Bennie.

  Bennie looked in the long mirror; he could see himself and Mrs. Brown in the reflection. She was standing behind him and beaming with pride. Bennie wished she were his mother.

  “Oh, Bennie, we’re all so proud of you,” she said. “Your first day on the job, isn’t that exciting?”

  Bennie was indeed excited, in fact, he’d had a lot of trouble getting to sleep the night before. “I am excited,” he said in his monotone voice. “I really am.”

  “You look pretty sharp in your work uniform, doesn’t he everyone?”

  The big room in the Home was full of smiling faces and they were all nodding in approval. Bennie blushed, a little embarrassed by all the attention. There were fifteen of them living there and they were all counting on Bennie making a good impression at his new job. If things went well for him, there was a good chance that Mrs. Brown would be able to secure jobs for some of the others. Of course, some would never find jobs. They would continue to take their pills and watch the black and white television to pass the time. Still, they were all very proud of their friend.

  “Mrs. Shipman made you a special lunch, Bennie. Isn’t that nice? There are two sandwiches in your lunch-pail and a banana and a big slice of chocolate cake. You should thank her for doing that for you. Don’t you think so, Bennie?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Shipman.”

  “Oh, it was no trouble,” said Mrs. Shipman, walking over to Bennie and giving him a quick hug. “No trouble at all. I’m proud of you, Bennie. You’re very brave.”

  “Indeed he is,” said Mrs. Brown. “Now, you’re sure you want to walk all the way to the plant by yourself? I’d be happy to walk with you.”

  “I want to do it by myself,” answered Bennie. “I’m a man, not a baby.”

  “I never said you were a baby. Do you remember the way?”

  “Yes ma’am, I remember the way.”

  “Oh dear, all right then, it’s time to send you off. Here’s your lunch-pail. Be careful crossing the street, okay? Listen to me, oh dear, I’m just so happy right now.”

  Bennie took the lunch-pail and walked towards the door. Everyone was saying good-bye at the same time and he just wanted to start his journey. He was uncomfortable being fussed over and was excited to start his new job; his first real job.

  Mrs. Brown walked him to the door. “Bennie, don’t you listen to those men if they start making trouble for you, all right? Mr. Beeksma assured me that they wouldn’t, but just in case, I want you to ignore them.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Good,” said Mrs. Brown. She gave him a quick hug and Bennie could see that her eyes were moist with tears.

  Bennie wondered about that as he walked out the door into the morning sunshine. The walk was ten blocks and Bennie was confident that he would have no trouble finding the plant. He was to go directly to Mr. Beeksma’s office and he hoped he could remember where it was. He closed the gate behind himself and replaced the wooden latch. He turned the corner and began to walk down the sidewalk. He felt a sudden swell of pride. He was out in the world and he had a purpose. He walked down Fillmore Street and crossed at 10th Avenue. He thought about his lunch, what would he do with it when he arrived at work? Would they expect him to carry it around with him? He didn’t know, nobody had said anything about that. Mr. Beeksma would tell him. Maybe he could leave it inside his office. He seemed like a nice man.

  He crossed 9th Street and turned left, passing a barking dog in the front yard of a blue house with flowers lining the sidewalk. Bennie could smell lilacs and he liked the smell of them because they reminded him of Mrs. Brown. He ignored the dog and kept walking. He would need to pay attention to what he was doing so he wouldn’t get lost.

  That was why he failed to notice Oscar walking behind him.

  Bennie waited for a truck at the intersection of 9th Avenue and Pierce Street. He crossed carefully, entering the commercial district with all of its shops and businesses. Bennie looked in the windows, watching the men and women go about their jobs. His stomach began to fill with butterflies. He would soon be just like them. He would earn a paycheck and have his own money and he would be able to buy a Coca-Cola whenever he pleased.

  He nearly forgot to turn down the alley. He didn’t like this long stretch of dark cobblestones. The buildings here were dark and imposing. Trucks lined the alleyway, making their deliveries of who knew what. Bennie certainly didn’t, he clutched the handle of his lunch-pail and tried to look like he belonged.

  “Hey retard,” called a somewhat familiar voice from behind him. Bennie froze, recognizing the voice.

  “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

  Bennie’s heart skipped a beat. He was suddenly running as fast as his legs would carry him. He held his lunch-pail with both hands as he ran down the greasy old alley-way that stank of rotten fruit and the smoke from big trucks. He had to get to the plant. Mr. Beeksma was waiting for him. He could hear the clopping of footsteps behind him, gaining with each passing second.

  A group of four men were gathered ahead of him, smoking and talking in the gloomy light. Bennie hoped that they might somehow help him. Surely, they could see that he didn’t want any trouble. He only wanted to get to his new job. He only wanted Mrs. Brown and the others to be proud of him.

  He suddenly found that he’d been wrong about the men. One of them stuck a long leg out into his path and Bennie tripped and was suddenly flying through the air like a bird with a broken wing. He landed in a heap, his lunch-pail spilling its contents all over the dirty pavement. Bennie looked at his scuffed and bleeding hands and his ruined lunch and began to cry.

  The four men in the group pointed at him and laughed.

  Mrs. Brown was waiting at the door when Bennie arrived back at the Home. She’d been waiting there for the better part of an hour, knowing it was foolish. Bennie would be fine, she’d prayed for that and now it was in God’s hands. She gasped when she saw him at the gate and she literally ran out to meet him.

  “Bennie,” she exclaimed. “Look at you, you’re a mess. Oh dear, are you hurt?” Mrs. Brown turned to face Oscar. Her face turned red. “You did this to him! You’re a monster!”

  “No he’s not, Mrs. Brown,” said Bennie. “Oscar’s my friend. He beat up four guys who were picking on me this morning. He really did. Then he took me to work and he showed me the ropes, didn’t you. Oscar?”

  “I guess I did,” said Oscar. “Now, you run along and let me talk to Mrs. Brown, okay? I’ll be by in the morning to walk to work with you, if you’d like that?”

  “I sure would,” said Bennie, beaming.

  “I’ll be right in, Bennie. Go change out of your work clothes. I’ll need to mend your trousers before you go to work tomorrow.”

  “Yes ma’am. Good-bye Oscar. Don’t forget about me tomorrow.”

  “I won’t, buddy. I’ll be here, just remember we can’t be late.”

  “I’ll be ready,” answered Bennie, with a smile that stretched across his face. He then walked toward the Home, turning his head three times before going inside. He waved from the doorway and didn’t go in until Oscar returned the wave.

  “You beat up four men?” asked Mrs. Brown, suspiciously.

  “Ah, it was nothin’. Besides, one of them tripped Benn
ie. That’s why he’s scratched up and his pants are ripped up. Those dirty rats. I had to teach ‘em a lesson. Nobody messes with Bennie, not while I’m around.”

  “We’ve got that in common,” answered Mrs. Brown. “Can I ask you something? Why the change of heart? You called Bennie a retard the last time I saw you.”

  “Yeah, I’m really ashamed of that. I just never been around anybody like him before. The guy just gets under your skin, in a good way. You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” said Mrs. Brown with an understanding smile. “I certainly do.”

  “This thing we got going on down at work, for people like Bennie, I mean. That’s a good thing. I mean, people need to see people like that and work with them and stuff. That way they can see that they’re not all that different from the rest of us.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Oscar.”

  “Yeah, he’s aces in my book and he thinks the world of you. He sure does. I’ll be around in the morning. Don’t you worry about a thing; I’ll beat the snot out of anyone who even looks at him funny. You can count on me, Mrs. Brown. Yep, I’ll look out for him, don’t you worry about a thing.”

  Mrs. Brown smiled and watched as Oscar walked away; his head held high, challenging the world, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his navy-blue windbreaker. She then thanked God and walked inside the Home to find her needle and thread, brushing the tears away from her cheeks. Bennie retired from the plant in 1972; he and Oscar remained lifelong friends.

  Battleship grey