She touched my knee under the table.
“You know, I’m not saying that to discourage you. It’s just that I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“Ha,” I said.
As a writer, I had not yet attained glory. As a piano salesman, I wanted to try to even the balance. I was betting on the idea that life cannot break all your momentum at once.
“Anyway, we’re not hard up, you know,” she added. “We have easily enough to hold us till the end of the month.”
“I know, but I’m not doing it for the money. I’m doing it to test a theory.”
“Gee! Look how blue the sky is! We’d be better off going for a drive…”
“No,” I said. “We’ve been taking drives for five or six days now, I’m sick of the car. No, today the store is open for business. I’m not budging from the cash register!”
“All right, whatever you say. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll see…”
“Go ahead. Don’t worry about me. The sun shines only for you, baby…”
She put some sugar in my coffee and stirred it, smiling, her eyes on me. They were incredibly deep sometimes. Sometimes, with her around, I soared among the clouds-just like that, knocked for a loop, blinded by the light.
“Don’t we have any cookies or something-some rose-petal jelly maybe?” I asked.
She laughed.
“What, can’t I even look at you?”
“Yeah, you can. It just gives me a hell of a sweet tooth, that`s all.”
At two o’clock sharp I went to open the store. I took a look out on the street-to get the lay of the land. Perfect. It I was going to buy a piano, this would be the day. I went and sat down in a dark corner in the back of the store, still and silent like a hungry tarantula, my eyes fixed on the door.
Time passed. I scribbled something in the receipt book. I broke the pencil in half. I went out on the sidewalk a few times to see what was happening. All I got was discouraged. Nothing. It was dead. My ashtray was full-you sure can smoke a lot of cigarettes in this life, I thought, and you sure can get bored. It’s enough to make you run off with the circus. I didn’t like the feeling-like being stabbed in the back in broad daylight. Was it really such a wild flight of fancy for a piano salesman to hope to sell a piano? Was it too much to ask? Was it a sin of pride to want to move the merchandise? What is a piano salesman who doesn’t sell pianos, after all? Anguish and absurdity are the nipples of the world-I said it out loud, joking.
“How’s that?”
I turned around. It was Betty. I hadn’t heard her come in.
“Ready to go? You going to take a walk…?” I asked.
“]ust a little one. It’s still nice out. You talking to yourself, now?”
“No, just screwing around. Listen, would you watch the store five minutes for me? I want to get some cigarettes. It’ll get me out a little bit…”
“Sure.”
Things being what they were, I didn’t deny myself a double shot of whiskey and Coke, while waiting for the lady to shuffle through the cupboard, looking for a carton of filtered cigarettes. She stood back up, her face flushed and her bun crooked. I handed her a bill.
“How’s the piano business?” she said.
I didn’t have the heart to take a cheap shot.
“Could be better,” I said.
“Yes, well, you know, everybody’s scrambling these days.”
“Yeah?” I said.
“Yes. Times are tough all around…”
“Could I have a piece of pie, to go, please?”
While she went to get it, I picked up the bill which was sitting on the counter and put it back in my pocket. She wrapped some wax paper around my pie and put it down in front of me.
“That be all?” she asked.
“Yes, thanks.”
It was worth a try. Sometimes it works. It’s sort of a free lottery. It can get your spirits back up. The lady hesitated for a fraction of a second. I smiled at her like an angel.
“Not too much silver,” I said. “My change, I mean. My wife is tired of my complaining about the holes in my pockets…”
She laughed a little, nervously, then opened the drawer of her cash register. She gave me the change.
“Sometimes I think I’m losing my marbles,” she said.
“It happens to everyone,” I said.
I was in no hurry to get back to the store. A little piece of baked apple was hanging out of the wax paper, like a teardrop. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. I zupped it. Paradise comes cheap here on earth, luckily-it keeps things in their proper perspective. What is it really that measures a man? Surely not breaking one’s ass to sell a few pianos-that would be sheer folly; it certainly isn’t worth ruining one’s life over. A tender corner of apple pie, soft as a spring morn-that’s something else. I realized that I’d taken this piano thing too seriously-I’d lost my head over it. It’s hard to stave off madness, though-you have to watch out every minute.
I started back, thinking of all this. I swore to myself that even if I sold nothing all day, I wouldn’t let it get to me. I’d zen it out. Still, a sale or two wouldn’t be bad. I told myself this as I walked through the door. Betty was smiling behind the cash register, fanning herself with a piece of paper.
“Taste this apple pie,” I said.
Talk about a smile-her face might have been polished with ammonia. It was like I’d just asked for her hand in marriage.
“You know,” I went on. “Let’s not delude ourselves. They say business is bad all over these days. I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t sell anything today. I’m a victim of the global economy.”
“Haha,” she said.
“I personally don’t see anything to laugh about. But then again I’m more pragmatic…”
I was intrigued by the way she was fanning herself with the paper. It was winter after all, and despite the blue sky it was not particularly warm. The air seemed charged. Suddenly I froze-I blanched, as if I’d just stepped on a nail.
“It’s impossible!” I said.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Shit, no. It’s impossible-I left you here for ten minutes…”
“Yes, well, it was plenty of time. You want to see the order form?”
She held out the form-the one I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. I was floored. I slapped the receipt with the back of my hand.
“My God, why wasn’t it me who sold this? You want to tell me why it wasn’t…”
She came and took my arm, her head on my shoulder.
“It was you who sold it. It was thanks to you…”
“Yeah, right. Still…”
I looked around to see if some mischievous spirit wasn’t giggling behind a piano. Life tries to rattle you every chance it gets. I gave it my compliments-l saluted it for its skill at dealing out low blows. I breathed in Betty’s hair. Yes, I too knew how to cheat. I wasn’t going to be beaten so easily. I bit into the apple pie, and the miracle was accomplished-the storm went away, growling far behind me. I found myself standing before a calm sea.
“If you ask me, this calls for a celebration,” I said. “What would you like more than anything?”
“To go eat Chinese.”
“Chinese it is!”
I closed the store with no regrets. It was still a bit early, but why push your luck? One piano-I’d happily settle for that. We went off walking up the street-the sunny side-while she told me about her sale. I pretended to be interested. To be honest, it bugged me a little. I didn’t listen very closely to what she was saying; I was thinking more about the shrimp toasts I was going to scarf down. The girl bouncing around next to me reminded me of a school of glowing little fish.
