At the Jim Bridger: Stories
“She was sitting dead center in the middle of the big empty barroom like a lost child. On the other side of the bar station two guys played pool at one of the twelve tables. The floor in Tips was varnished cement; it was not a very comfortable place, but they filled it every night with all the young brokers who were still in mourning for college.
“Did you notice how there’s no work anymore?” she said when I sat down. “This place used to be a factory.”
“I work,” I said “No you don’t. You fly arou...nd and talk for money.”
“Eve,” I said. “You don’t think air travel is work?”
“You get introduced, walk to the podium, always a nicer piece of furniture than I have in my whole house, and then you pause a beat because you’re sure that every eye is on you, then you pause again and then you give your lecture. Afterward they hand you a big check. They pay you for those pauses.”
There was an edge in it; I could hear it, but Eve always had an edge. I had wanted to see her; it had been two months, silence since our last meeting, dinner downtown.MoreLess
“Did you notice how there’s no work anymore?” she said when I sat down. “This place used to be a factory.”
“I work,” I said “No you don’t. You fly arou...nd and talk for money.”
“Eve,” I said. “You don’t think air travel is work?”
“You get introduced, walk to the podium, always a nicer piece of furniture than I have in my whole house, and then you pause a beat because you’re sure that every eye is on you, then you pause again and then you give your lecture. Afterward they hand you a big check. They pay you for those pauses.”
There was an edge in it; I could hear it, but Eve always had an edge. I had wanted to see her; it had been two months, silence since our last meeting, dinner downtown.MoreLess
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