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.All these things, Robert saw, were symptoms of the same idea, the idea thatchange was possible, that the way things had always been was not the way theyalways had to be.Mitch had been swept up in it, growing his hair and sideburns, wearing paisleyand polka-dot shirts to work.As jazz splintered into factions, Mitch optedfor the funky pop of Ramsey Lewis and Cannonball Adderley over thelewis shiner152new thing that Coltrane and Ornette and Sun Ra were doing.Robert himselfmostly listened to his older records, or went to ea markets and thrift shopsPage 118ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmllooking for more from the early sixties.At he was two years from the age where he could no longer be trusted, 28according to the wisdom of the young.He and Ruth had a sizable nest egg,enough that they could trade their house for a newer, bigger one, if Roberthad seen any point in it.They were not in it often enough at the same time tofeel crowded.For two weeks each summer they would dutifully go on vacation,usually by car to Mexico, to the Grand Canyon, to the LakesDistrict in Canada.The constant proximity made Robert snappish and Ruth, inturn, sulky.The idea of change was as thrilling to Robert as it was terrifying.He didn tknow where to start.He tried to talk to Ruth about his frustrations, and shemet him with the incomprehension he d expected. I don t know what s wrongwith you, she said,  but I m sure it will pass.Robert didn t know what was wrong either.He was no closer to leavingRuth than he d ever been, and for all Mitch s idiosyncrasies, he was agenerous and easygoing employer.Robert tried golf, tried learning chess froma book and replaying famous games by himself, went through a phase of heavydrink-ing that only sapped his strength.Then, in March of1967, Mitch said,  It s time.Robert straightened up from his table. Time for what? They re asking for sealed bids on the East-West Expressway.Finally. Bids? Don t worry, it s in the bag.Was I right about ibm? So we pull the plug on Hayti, Maurice said.Maurice had fought change onevery front and won.He was wearing newly bought versions of the same clotheshe d had on when Robert met him.He had nothing but anger for theBlack Panthers; he was sure they were  going to spoil things for the rest ofus. I didn t think you cared, Robert said to him. I don t, Maurice said. It s a slum.Let s take it down. What do you mean,  let s ? Robert said.He knew that he was perpetually onedge lately.He seemed unable to do anything about it. It won t be you thattakes it down, it ll be me. Don t do it, then, Maurice said, bending over his work again. I don t givea Goddamn one way or the other. All right, you two, Mitch said. Be cool.We been waiting a long time forthis.This is the road to the future we re going to be building, here.ThisandInterstate will open the Park right up.We ll be papering the walls with40money.Black & White153 Rah rah rah, Robert muttered. Sis boom bah. Robert, you want to share that with the rest of the class? Mitch said.Robert didn t bother to answer.Mitch s good humor was unshakable andprobably, Robert thought, chemically enhanced.Mitch sat at his drafting table, rarely used these days, though still in thecen-ter of the expanded bullpen.He unrolled a single blue line print, stillsmelling of ammonia, that showed a section of highway. The rst stretch, hesaid,  be-gins at Chapel Hill Road downtown and runs east for two and a half miles. Two and a half miles? Robert said, looking dumbfounded at the map.Page 119ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html What the hell good does that do anybody? It s a start, Robert. It s a start through the middle of Hayti. This isn t exactly news.Yes, it goes through the middle of Hayti.Just likethe residents of Hayti voted for four years ago. That was when they thought they were going to get new houses and a newcommercial center and a whole new city.Only that s never going to hap-pen, is it? No, Robert, it s never going to happen.Now, the second stretch will turnsouth and hook up with I- straight into Raleigh.We should have that done40in three years Robert walked out.He sat on the trunk of his Chevelle and lit a Lucky.When he looked up, Mitch was standing in front of him.It was only Marchsecond.The sky had clouded over during the day, and the temperature haddropped into the forties.They were both in their shirtsleeves.The chill feltgood to Robert, cooling him out, as the jazz men would say.Mitch had his armsfolded. I don t know what s bugging you, man, Mitch said,  but you need to get ahandle on it.Especially in front of the whole o ce.You know what I msaying? You going to re me? Oh, that s right.You can t re me.Your pal RandyFogg might complain.Mitch shook his head, refusing the bait. Man, you are pushing it.If ever Isaw a man needed to get laid, it s you.Seeing as how you ve got a taste forthe dark stu , I could x you up.Change your luck, man.Robert thought his rage might overwhelm him.Before it could explode, Mitchheld up one hand and said,  Whoa, brother, hold on.I got a better idea. Heproduced a thin, hand-rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket. Smoke this.Geta little perspective.Robert jumped o the car and backed away. Jesus Christ! Are you out of yourmind? What if a cop was driving by? Get away from me with that stu.lewis shiner154Mitch shrugged and put the joint in his pocket. Suit yourself.This is goingto be legal in a few years.People won t bother with booze anymore.It s goingto be a better world. For who? Robert said.He brushed Mitch back with his arm and got in the car.Mitch was still talking through the rolled-up window as Robert started theengine. Take the rest of the day o , Mitch said. Get your head together.As long as you bring your ass back here tomorrow.We got work to do.The work, not surprisingly, was more demolition.The time had come to go afterthe businesses on Pettigrew Street.Today it was the DreamlandShoeshine Shop.Robert got to the o ce at eight and Mitch sent him straight over to the jobsite.The crane company had learned its lesson and sent a dour black man inhis fties named Johnston.Leon and Tommy Coleman were already there, talkingto a middle-aged black man in a rumpled suit. Jerome Harris, the man said, shaking Robert s hand. This was my store. I m sorry, Robert said. You know it wasn t me that Harris waved away his apologies. They got me a place over to Tin City now [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]