JOYCE CAROL OATES
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or two like at. v. comic with his timing down so perfect he doesn't
even wait for laughs. But she just stared at him. Wouldn't smile,
wouldn't give an inch. Pretending to be as dumb as one of her own
asshole girl friends who couldn't tell whether Harvey Kubeck was
coming on to her or playing her for laughs.
When news came that he'd won $1,150 in the lottery Harvey
didn't talk it up, went around acting as if he wasn't that surprised at
winning, even that happy, at first, though he got happier when the
shock wore off. He got a lot happier. The first night Marian looked
at him and said, "How come you aren't more excited? - you didn't
even call many people," and he shrugged, embarrassed, cigarette in
his mouth, he said, '''Cause I figured it was coming." He said, his
face burning, "I figured it's been coming for a fucking long time."
Next morning and the mornings that followed Harvey woke
and before he even opened his eyes or wondered what time it was or
what day of the week, did he have to work or not, he was thinking:
This is more like it, Kubeck.
He said aloud, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror,
the ruddy skin, the quizzical eyes, turning his head from side to side,
slowly, pondering, admiring: This is the way it was meant to be.
Basically, he thinks, he's a happy contented person. Things
have always gone well for him: he got through school, got through
the National Guard, married the woman he wanted, has a baby boy
he loves - in fact he's crazy about Paulie, really eats him up, when
he has the time to concentrate. He isn't a loser, he isn't one of those
poor bastards (he knows plenty, in his own family even) who fuck up
everything they try. Just the past two or three years when his luck
has been running against him . Or is it four years, five? - the steel
business in trouble and trying to blame the union. Something in the
air he breathes, the way the sky looks when he happens to glance up,
the way food tastes, nothing you can put your finger on but you know
it's there, you know you're being cheated. He'd look at himself in a
mirror in some lavatory somewhere, late Saturday night in Surf City,
he'd been drinking whiskey and beer and none of it had done much
good, out with his buddies, Marian was home or over at her mother's
house with Paulie, he'd take a look at that face and think, Who the
hell's
that,
I don't want nothin' to do with
that.
