“Look,” Tuck said, “I’m just saying some women, some women, need it. That’s all I’m saying, okay?”
“Which women?” Mac said.
“Hell, I don’t know.”
“You mean if it’s a life or death kind of thing?”
It was a little after nine and Tony, the barman stood with his arms crossed, watching the greyhounds on the big screen beside the pool table. He shuffled a little closer to Mack and Tuck, keeping his gaze on the screen.
“Well, what do you do? Huh, where do you draw the line?” Tuck said, resting his blue-veined forearms on the bar.
“What do you mean?” Mac said.
“Well, if a woman came at you with a knife? Then what?”
“Well, I don’t know, Tuck. That’s diff-“
“Ah ha,” Tuck said, then he sucked in a mouthful of beer from the top of his glass so as not to spill it.
Tony stepped closer, taking his eyes from the greyhounds. “Well, Tuck, let’s go the other way,” he said. “What’s the least a woman has to do for it to be okay?”
“What?”
“Tell me what’s the least a woman would have to do before you had to act.”
Tony leaned on his elbows over the bar.
“Come on we are being stupid now,” Tuck said.
“Well?” Tony said.
Tuck looked into Mac’s tired alcoholic eyes. He shrugged. He looked back over one shoulder than the other.
He lowered his voice. “Well I don’t know, who’s the girl?”
Tony smiled and took up his rag to wipe down the bar top. Mack laughed in a lifeless flat whopping. Hoo-hoo-hoo. Tuck smiling, picked up a beer coaster and slapped it down again. “You know, screw you guys.” He took a swig of his beer, moved away from the bar and said, “Come on Mack, let’s have a game of pool.”
There was no one left by Midnight. Tony cashed up, locked the doors and put the bins out back, then he left.
The light was on when he got home. Jan slept in her nightgown on the couch, she stirred when the door closed, kneading the lids of her eyes.
“I’ll heat your dinner,” she said.
“No stay there,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
He sat on the carpet with his plate of beef casserole and mashed potato propped on his thighs. Jan sat up watching the television.
“Busy tonight?” she said too casually. Her pupils sliding as she said it.
“Not so much,” he said.
She let out a small cough into her fist, then turned the television off and rose. Her plate pasted with dry casserole and her coffee cup were still beside the couch from before she had fallen asleep. She took these with her to the kitchen.
The quiet clink of knife and fork was the only sound left. Then came the knock of Jan’s slippered feet up the staircase. Alone, he ate, staring up into the corner of the room. He eyed the bare wall where the wallpaper had peeled away in the corner, like witnessing a patch of skin through a tear in a stranger’s clothes.
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