afternoon sun is burning hot like a cheap cigar and the traffic is heavy and Iâm reaching back to roll down the window behind me because I canât get the air conditioner working. Iâm going downtown to see my brother at his office and I spend half an hour looking for a place to park. I decide to pull into a space marked for the handicapped and I look up and standing on the sidewalk is a cop. Heâs looking right at me and I think about getting out of the car and limping, but I decide to back out. I find a space three blocks away.
I walk through the heat into the building and into the elevator, where I press the fourth-floor button. Iâm all alone in there and the doors start to close and this fat hand pulls them open again. In steps this great big fat guy and heâs followed by an enormous woman and an obese young boy. I glance up at this plaque on the wall above the buttons that says just how much weight this machine can hold. I start to do some estimating and figuring and then the elevator moans and I take a step toward the door. The doors close and the elevator slowly starts up. Then thereâs this weird noise and we ainât moving.
The fat man says something to the fat woman in German and then he says to me, âThe machine is broken?â
âYeah, it stopped,â I says and I push the alarm button. The alarm is sounding and I look over at the woman and she smiles and sheâs sweating profusely. All three of them are sweating heavily. After a few minutes I says, âI figure somebodyâs heard it by now.â I stop pushing.
The kid is staring at me and then he gives a tug on his fatherâs coattail. The man leans over and the kid whispers in his ear and then they both look at me.
I push the alarm again. After about ten minutes the elevator starts to move. I press the fourth-floor button.
âIt was very nice to speak with you,â the fat man says as I step out of the elevator.
I walk down the hall and into my brotherâs office. Heâs standing there leaning over the desk of his receptionist, talking real low. He stands up straight when he sees me and presses his white jacket with his hands.
âHi, Craig,â he says.
I wave. âJust thought Iâd stop by.â
âGood day for it. Business is slow. Come on back.â He knocks on the desk and winks at his receptionist and leads the way to an examination room.
I walk over to the counter and start messing with some instruments.
âYou look flustered,â Martin says.
âNaw, nothing. Fat Germans in the elevator.â
He looks at me funny.
âNever mind. You know, you ought to get somebody to do something about that elevator. Getting stuck.â
âSit down in the chair and letâs have a look.â
I sit down in the chair. âI want to talk to you about some problems.â
âWhat are older brothers for?â He pulls my head back and starts probing around in my mouth. âYou know Iâm always here to help you with your problems. Open wider.â
I pull his hand out of my mouth.
âWhat do you say we clean them today.â
âI really just want to talk.â
âWell, whatâs wrong?â Heâs over to the counter grabbing tools and stuff.
âIâve been in sort of a slump lately.â
âIâve heard something like that.â Heâs back and standing over me. âOpen wide.â He puts this metal thing with a hose attached to it in my mouth and itâs sucking up my spit. He starts cleaning my teeth. âYeah,â he says, âthings are tough all over. Take Juanita. She went out the other day and spent seventy dollars on two blouses. Two blouses! Rinse. Thatâs nothing compared to the money she spent having the backyard landscaped. And it looks pitiful. You told me the winters are mild out here but you didnât tell me it rains all the goddamn time. But do I get upset? No, not me.