Crows by Charles Dickinson Read Free Book Online Page A

in the store all day. The mug was to say, ‘To my darling, Frank. Happy twenty-­fifth anniversary. Love, Peppy.’ She wrote this message on a piece of paper and left it for your father. He promised to have it ready for her in two hours.”
    â€œDo I have to listen to this?” Dave asked, loving the moment, at home with his wife and the center of attention.
    â€œYour father set to work like he had been entrusted to cut the Hope diamond,” Evelyn continued. “She had bought a sixteen-­ounce mug—­the King’s Cup—­top of the line. Plus fifty-­seven characters, spaces, and punctuation marks. A fortune in one mug. A day’s profits!” She winked again, hidden, at her son. Dave emitted a grunt of disgust. “But also a big responsibility for the first real engraving your father’d ever done,” she said. “Practically a book to engrave on the side of this mug.”
    Dave had invested $1,100 in the engraving stylus and lessons to operate it, and in the four months since had yet to engrave a single letter in earnest. This did not discourage him or Evelyn, for they frequently went months without selling a particular item in their inventory.
    â€œNo telling what the public will take a fancy to,” Dave would say. “It’s the man who’ll go crazy who’ll try to figure out the public.”
    Dave and Evelyn had moved into their small store before Robert was born, and hung the painted plywood sign—­ CIGAR’S —­over the door. The wooden sign was in the basement now, succeeded by an electric number that cost a fortune when the letters that frequently burned out—­ CI AR’S IGAR’S GAR S —­needed to be replaced.
    Robert remembered his father practicing on the engraving stylus. Curls of pewter, some fine as thread, some thick as nail clippings, dropped to the desk beneath him. Dave saved these shavings and sold them to an alloy wholesaler in Milwaukee. The practice mug filled with cut letters: the English alphabet, upper and lower case, a dozen times; numerals; Congratulations!; Champions; Bravo!; University; World’s Greatest Dad; Anniversary; Glee Club; To A Great Fellow; the Greek alphabet. A storm of letters in a swirl without beginning or end.
    â€œHe worked for two hours straight and then the woman returned,” Evelyn said. “I got her a cup of coffee and a chair out of the back. She said she was perfectly happy to wait.”
    â€œShe hovered like a vulture,” Dave cut in. His beer bottle rested on the hard little ball of his paunch. He was in his late fifties, smug in his contentment and the path smoothed by his loving wife. “She sighed and rustled her packages and checked her watch,” he complained. “That store is so tiny, I heard every beat of her heart.”
    â€œAn hour passed,” Evelyn said. “Peppy was very impatient.”
    â€œMaybe she was afraid of missing her twenty-­sixth anniversary,” Robert said.
    Dave sneered, but his mother laughed, and Robert felt a part of them for a moment.
    â€œFinally, your father finished. He polished the mug, got all his fingerprints off, and passed it lovingly to Peppy, holding it with a soft cloth.”
    Evelyn abruptly left the room. Robert, alone with his father, did not know what to say. Was that the story? His father drank his beer. Evelyn returned with a large pewter mug.
    â€œVoilà!” she said. “The result of your father’s nearly four hours of work.”
    She placed the mug in Robert’s hands. It read: “To my darling, Frank. Happy 25th anniversary. Love, Puppy.”
    â€œShe was a vulture,” Dave said. “She just hovered and skulked and drove me to distraction with her impatience.” He flailed his arms for exclamation. “Peppy, Puppy, what’s the difference? One stupid name is as good as another, right?”
    â€œRight!” Evelyn