Fire Year by Jason K. Friedman

Author:Jason K. Friedman [Friedman, Jason K.; Scibona, Salvatore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarabande Books

Where Artie fit into the cosmology, even the Lord Almighty would have had a hard time saying. In addition to his stutter and limp, his eyes pointed in different directions, like misaimed headlights. He got a disability check, which enabled him to survive on his salary from the discontinuous string of part-time and unreported shit jobs he had had over the years. Once Blaustein had seen Artie by the side of the road spearing garbage and putting it into a sack, though he wasn’t wearing an orange vest or anything else that would distinguish him from a meshuggener. It was rush hour and Blaustein didn’t want to embarrass him by stopping anyway. It was hard to know what to do. When Blaustein ran into him at the JEA he was glad to see him employed, but anyone could do better than that, even a man like this.

Artie saw reason and came to work at the garage. Blaustein paid him fifty cents more an hour than he was making at the JEA. But who knew if this investment would pay off? Blaustein tried to keep the big picture in mind, though from the start Artie tried him. He didn’t know the makes or models of cars; he didn’t even own one himself. The first time Artie went to the scrapyard by himself, it took him twice as long as it should have. Next to the yard was the dump and for some reason he had stopped there, in a dump. It was only because he was an old friend that Blaustein didn’t fire him on the spot. Rarely in a businessman’s life did a hiring opportunity permit the fulfillment of a mitzvah. But should a respect for the past outweigh one’s responsibilities to the present? When is enough enough? Such weighty questions kept Blaustein up that night and the next.

Spenser Estates Metalry was named for the plantation that stood there in the years between the Revolution and the Civil War, after which the gray brick house with its porticos and terraces and stables collapsed under the weight of neglect and the rice fields reverted to marsh. When Artie started working for him, Blaustein called ahead and, avoiding Lefkowitz, talked to the girl, who laughed when he called her pet names such as Pecan Pie and Brown Sugar. Blaustein asked if they had this or that part. The girl couldn’t say what was left in which car, but she could tell him which cars they had. There was no way to reserve a part, so when Blaustein hung up the phone he shouted at Artie to go!

One of the mechanics had taught Artie how to pry out various parts without damaging them or the rest of the car. Blaustein sent him for everything big and small: seatbelts, the rod that held up the hood, a door handle, mirrors, a fuel gauge, entire engines. Artie did as he was told. Blaustein came into the shop one morning feeling different, and it took him a while to realize he had fallen asleep the night before without drinking his NyQuil.

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