‘A FRIEND?’

Keith A. Dodson has dabbled in photography for over fifty years. Recent work has appeared, or will soon appear, in Arkana, Ink In Thirds, LIT Magazine, Radar, Sheepshead Review, Split Rock Review, and The Penn Review.

A FRIEND?

The workload was light that day, for Mr. Lasker had already closed the books for the year. Ap dumbly busied. Every so often, he went out for a cigarette. Or he made a coffee from the machine Mr. Lasker had recently installed in the back of the room. Sitting at his desk, he kept his eyes tight and focused, as if his head was full of business. Sometimes, Tyler asked him a question. But even the younger man, always so diligent with his assignments, showed little oomph as the day resigned.

“That’s it for me,” Ap mumbled as he reached for his briefcase.

“It’s five o’clock already?” Tyler yawned.

“Close enough.” Ap fingered his cigarettes. “I have some errands before getting home.”

“What? Buying Christmas presents?”

“Sure,” Ap said mechanically. Although he paused and shook his head, thinking on how hard he’d worked this past year, and how little money he had to show for it. “Did Lasker say anything about the bonus?”

“A bonus? I don’t know.”

“I’m joking.” Ap looked to the man’s office. The door had been closed much of that day. Watery light bled through the cracks. “Has he been out any?”

“He told me a few hours ago that he had something to tell us. But I don’t know what about.”

“That bastard keeping us late.” Ap resumed packing his briefcase. “I’d better be going.”

“What’s Mrs. Ap making tonight for dinner?”

“It’s been baked chicken about every night this past month.” Ap chewed his bottom lip, annoyed he’d said it. “There’s nothing better than baked chicken. She makes it the best.”

“I bet she does,” Tyler said, grinning.

“You should come over for dinner sometime.”

“I’d like that.” Tyler smiled. His eyes flittered to Mr. Lasker’s office. “He has something to tell us.”

“I need to be getting on.”

Ap grimaced as he checked that the account books were locked in the drawer. He dusted the desk and washed out the coffee mug. He put on his jacket and hat and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck before sitting back down. Mr. Lasker had still not come out.

“Do you think we’ll get a bonus?” Tyler asked.

“No, he’s not that sort of boss.”

“I thought he might.” Tyler coughed. “I was hoping to buy a bracelet for my girlfriend.”

“Don’t be expecting too much from him.”

“Lasker?” Tyler asked, his voice dropping. “I think he’s alright.”

“Just don’t be expecting anything.”

“I only thought we might get one.”

“A bonus would be nice,” Ap said, sitting back in his chair. He shook out a cigarette from the package and held it in the light before putting it behind his ear. “The best smoke is the one at the end of the day.”

“That’s what you keep telling me.”

Ap smiled. “Maybe you should get a vice for yourself. All this work, work, work …”

“Smoking gives me a headache.”

“Start drinking … maybe gambling?” Ap laughed to himself. “I wish he’d hurry.”

“I really was hoping for a bonus,” Tyler said, squinting at the accounting papers splayed over the desk. He swallowed and began to organize them. “Mr. Lasker has been quiet these past few days, hasn’t he?”

“I haven’t noticed.”

“He’s barely said a word to us about anything.”

Ap shrugged. “He gets like that around the Christmas season.”

“Does he?”

“He doesn’t have any family or anything. You know how it can be.”

“He’s been acting strange,” Tyler insisted. “Earlier today, when you were out, he came out and began talking my ear off about all sorts of stuff.”

“About what?”

“Nothing. Just small talk.” Tyler smirked. “It was about something he’d heard on the radio. Then he was telling me about him having breakfast this morning at a diner, and some conversation with the waitress there he was trying to flirt with.”

“He probably did think that girl was flirting with him. Well, what can you expect?”

“I thought it was a bit sad.”

Ap sniggered. “You should figure by now that it’s how he is.”

“Yeah, I know so. I was just thinking that he was acting sadder than usual.”

“No, it’s all been about the same.” Ap thought a moment and then he shrugged. “Don’t worry about him so much. He gets lonely this time of year … you’ll see it again next year.”

“If there is a next year,” Tyler said, looking down at his papers.

“You don’t like it here?”

“It’s alright.” Tyler tried to grin. “It’s only that – well, I shouldn’t be saying anything about it.”

Ap chuckled and fist-tapped the other’s shoulder. “Don’t worry on Lasker too much. I would stick with him until you can get a good recommendation from him. If you leave, just make sure it’s honest and plain.”

“I’m not planning on leaving.”

Ap gave him a look. “Don’t worry if you do so. It’s not the best here, I sure know it. But Lasker has a good name. He can help you out a lot.”

“I was only thinking –”

“Thinking about what?”

Tyler looked about and then leaned forward, his voice lowering. “The salary isn’t so good here. A college friend of mine was telling me about this company in Waterville that was hiring.”

“Is that right?”

“He has plenty of openings too. I could put in a word for you.”

“I’m too old to be moving around,” Ap said quietly. His hands twittered, as they always did when he needed a smoke. Some time passed before he continued. “Well, I’ve been looking to get out of here for a while. But it’s hard to do so when you have something set in stone.”

“I can give you the contact –”

Ap saw the doorknob turn and nudged Tyler to silence him. Both men straightened and raised their head as Mr. Lasker exited his office.

He was a small, lumpy man with greying hair and small brown eyes that strained to peer through his thick eyeglasses. His arms were folded as he stood in the doorway, staring ahead and at nothing. Then, with a stiff sigh, he came forward to the two desks.

“I’m sorry to be keeping you so late,” Mr. Lasker said.

“It’s nothing,” Ap said. “Tyler said you wanted to talk to us about something.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Lasker said, looking behind him, as if there was something in his office he’d forgotten. “It’s only a difficult thing for me to say.”

Ap shifted in his chair. “I’m late to be getting home.”

“I know. And I thank you for staying a little late. It’s not something I wanted for you. I know you’ve been working hard these past weeks, trying to get the accounting set for the next year and – your hard work means a lot to me.” His head lowered and he shuffled his feet in place. “What I have to say it difficult,” he whispered.

Ap bit his bottom lip. “It’s not something with the business, is it?”

“The business?” Mr. Lasker asked, as if he didn’t understand. “No, nothing about that.”

“Nothing is going on with the business?” Ap asked again, his eyes focused.

“No, the business is fine. In fact, this past year has been one of the best we’ve done in – maybe the last ten years. And that’s to your hard work – both of you have been doing more for this company than I ever could ask.” Mr. Lasker looked at them both, his eyes bloomed, as if all of whatever was troubling him had dissipated. “It hasn’t anything to do with that.” His smile fell, but he stepped forward two great paces. “I didn’t want to have this conversation with you – I didn’t want to have it with myself. It’s a hard thing to admit to yourself, that you’re a sick man and that things will get worse … that maybe you won’t be around to see another Christmas.”

Ap softly tapped the cigarette package against his knee. “What is it?”

Mr. Lasker swallowed and nodded. “At the beginning of this month, I went for my physical and the doctor put me through a series of tests. The sort of tests anybody should get at my age. I surely didn’t think anything would be wrong … But the doctor saw something in my stomach – a growth, you see. It’s called Adenocarcinomas.” He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. “A shock of bad news so near to the holidays?”

“I can’t imagine it,” Tyler said. “This is horrible, Mr. Lasker.”

“Stage two,” Mr. Lasker responded. “It’ll be a long one. Chemotherapy … surgery … it’s going to be a long road. Maybe not a successful one.” He sighed, looking away. “I was in my office all this afternoon, not doing a thing, not looking at anything … just thinking, you know? Thinking over my life and all that.”

“Are the doctors optimistic?” Tyler asked.

“They pretend to be.” Mr. Lasker shook his head. “No, they give it to me straight. It’s serious. But modern medicine works wonders. It’ll be a lot of pain, lots of money, lots of time, lots of –” he paused. “Who knows if I make it another year, to see another Christmas, another New Year. That’s what I’ve been thinking. Thinking. Lots of thinking. That’s what hits you square in the face. Considering what you did in your life – what you need to do.” He turned slightly and coughed roughly into his hands. “It feels good to be telling you two about this. I’ve been putting it off. I’ve been putting it off to myself. It’s hard not to, when face with something like this, something that smacks you right in the face. It’s like I’ve been in a daze.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to go through something like that,” Tyler said.

“It sure is. Well, it was.” Mr. Lasker tried to smile. “I was sitting just now, not knowing how I was going to tell you. Because you’re my workers – you’re my friends. Ap, you’ve been working here for a long time.”

“Sure, a long time,” Ap whispered.

“Tyler – you too. It’s only been a year, but you’ve fit right in, hurrying to understand the business and to do all that should be done. I’ve been noting that. And how thankful I am for it.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t even like calling you ‘my workers.’ You’re my friends more than anything. I always like to think of this business as a family – not just some sterile place where you clock in and out. Of course, that’s how work is, and I know you only come here to get paid and – well, who would work without some payment. But even so, you’re like my family – you’re my good friends. I hope you know that.”

“We understand,” Ap said, tapping the cigarette with harder frequency against the desk.

“Yes, you’re my friends.” Mr. Lasker looked down upon each of them, his chin softly nodding. “You’re my good friends. And I love you. I love you like we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

A long and thick silence followed, and gradually, Mr. Lasker smile softly and returned to his office. The door closed behind him and there was then the sounds of the ticking-clock and Ap’s cigarette rapping.

“That’s some tough news,” Tyler whispered, as he reached for his briefcase.

“Sure was.” Ap stood and placed a cigarette between his lips. “A friend? Is that what he said.”

“I guess he was getting sentimental.”

“A friend?” Ap shook his head. “You’d think he’d raise the salaries more than three percent per year. You’d think he give us a good bonus. That’s how you thank someone for their work. Not some pathetic jabbering.” He shook his head as he moved quickly to the door.

*

Hunter Prichard is a writer from Portland, Maine.