Our Town Read Online Free PDF

when they’d arrived home, into the toilet. He tried to catch them, but they were already in the bowl. The water stayed yellow. It didn’t go down. Dale stared for a while at the calm water. Then he went back to bed with crunchy hair. Went back to bed with crunchy hair more angry.
    THE NEXT MORNING , before noon checkout, Dale called a local plumber—Allen’s Plumbing. It was nine thirty. The plumber promised he’d be there by ten. In the interim they tidied the room, and packed, and got ready to go back to Hollywood. Dale stuffed his clothes in his duffle. Dorothy folded and pressed and placed hers in her overnight bag. She wore a long-sleeve turtleneck to cover her bruises.
    There was a knock at the door. Dorothy turned off the TV. Dale went and got it. He unlocked the chain lock, then turned the doorknob and pulled it open. Before him, with a grin, stood a tall, white-haired, white-bearded plumber in blue overalls over a white T-shirt, tight on his biceps. Handsome, which Dale hadn’t expected. Straight silver fox. He raised up his leathery paw. And Dale shook his hand hard, trying to impress him.
    “How are ya, big guy? I understand you lost your car keys in the toilet?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Well, then. Let’s see here what we got.”
    Dale ushered in the plumber and he strode forward into the room.
    “How are ya, ma’am?” he spoke at Dorothy.
    “I’m okay,” Dorothy looked up and replied but then went back to folding. “I mean, as good as I can be, I guess.” A pause, with her head on her chest. “Under the circumstances.”
    The plumber sniffed.
    “Thanks for comin’, though,” she said and looked up again and smiled.
    “No problem, ma’am. Everything’s gonna be all right. You called the right guy,” he said, and he smiled, too. “I promise.”
    He made his way to the bathroom and pulled open the door.
    “Oh boy,” the plumber crowed. “You’ve got one of these old guys, huh?”
    “Yeah, I don’t know,” Dale said as he walked up behind him. “We’ve only been here a few. But I guess it’s not the best I’ve seen, no.”
    “Well that’s an understatement,” he laughed, then sighed. “But I’ll figure something out.” He got down on his knees and dropped his tool bag beside him. “Always do, big guy. Always do.”
    AT ELEVEN THIRTY , Dale walked back over to the closed bathroom door to check on the plumber. They only had thirty minutes ’til checkout. Do was getting restless. And, now, again, becoming scared.
    He pushed open the door and its unoiled hinges squealed.
    “How we doing in here?”
    “Well, it’s funny that you’re comin’ in now,” the plumber replied, seemingly exhausted, but with a piss-wet set of keys dangling from his thumb and forefinger as he stood up from his knees. “’Cause I just got ’em.”
    Dale put his hands on his thighs and dropped his head. From behind him his wife started clapping. They were so happy. They might be okay.
    “But I’ll tell ya,” said the plumber. “These fuckers weren’t easy. I used my closet auger for a while but then the damn oar got stuck. So then I had to take the damn thing off at the hinges. But, of course, some asshole decided to cement it down to the ground. So I’ve been chippin’ away at the thing the last half hour, until finally I could pull the bitch up. But then,” he dangled the keys before Dale, and they jangled. And Dale smiled. “But then I got ’em. I got the fuckers. Man against mechanism, I guess. And you know what?” More dangling and jangling. “We fuckin’ won.”
    It was fifty-seven dollars. Dale gave him one hundred in twenties. He saved them. They had won.
    The plumber gathered his things, victorious.
    “Every day’s a new adventure,” he said, and winked, before he left them.

    THEY DROVE BACK home to Hollywood in the rain. Dale drove, and Dorothy slept most of the way. Dale had given her something for sleeping, and a headache, while he took something to stay awake.