Electives Ch. 01

"Your grandson might like to take care of the rust. As you can see, it's not deeply ingrained in the steel. All he'll need is sandpaper, then a coat of primer before he matches the paint. I'll be happy to explain the process to him," I said, without looking at the couple. My eyes were fixed on Ginny.

My grandfather came back with the trade-in, parked it and looked my way. I shook my head to indicate the old couple didn't have a trade-in. He went into the office, to give Millie his offer for the trade-in, and hoping, I was sure, to approve a sales contract.

"For two people who are just friends, you and that lady are paying a lot of attention to each other," the wife observed.

"Sorry," I said for the second time. "Would you like to take the truck for a test drive? I'll need to see your driver's license before my grandfather will give me a dealer's plate," I said. This was bullshit. I didn't need my grandfather's approval to put a dealer's plate on the truck. I just wanted them to know that I was related to the owner. It worked.

"Is that elderly gentleman your grandfather?"

"Yes ma'am, although he would take exception to you referring to him as a gentleman. He knows he's elderly."

This got the desired reaction. They laughed. "Would you like to take it for a spin, Dear?" the woman asked her husband.

I'd heard her, but didn't turn to see her husband's answer. Ginny was getting back into her car. Would she turn onto the highway, or would she drive over to say hello?

The man got my attention when he handed me his driver's license.

I told him that I would be right back. It only took seconds to make a copy of the license, grab a dealer's plate and the keys to the truck. My grandfather was explaining why he never shakes hands to consummate a deal. I was happy that Millie had a sale. She blew me a kiss, thanking me for cutting the 'lookers' out of the herd. She didn't know that I had one of the 'lookers' hooked.

When I got back to the truck the couple was talking to Ginny, who was out of her car, looking cute in shorts and a T-shirt. From the way she was smiling, I was sure the lady was teasing her about the way we had been looking at each other.

My customers drove the truck out of the lot, and I was able to chat with Ginny until they came back, about fifteen minutes although it seemed more like fifteen seconds.

"How are you doing with The Grapes of Wrath?" she asked, looking at me with a concerned expression. I didn't answer until she was finished straightening my tie.

I looked around the lot to see if more 'lookers' had arrived. Millie was the only one in sight. My grandfather had disappeared.

"I haven't made much headway. I don't know if I'll be able to finish it tomorrow," I admitted.

"Would you like to study together? We could take turns reading," she suggested.

"Tonight?" I asked.

"I was thinking of tomorrow," she said, thoughtfully, like she was considering studying on Saturday night.

"Tomorrow would be good," I said, not wanting to open a book on Saturday night, even if it were in the company of Ginny.

We were making arrangements to study at her house the next day when the elderly couple returned with the truck. Ginny said goodbye, and drove off.

The couple wanted their grandson to see the truck before they made the decision to buy it for him. This often happens. Some keep their word and return. Others only use the promise to come back as an excuse to bail. The couple kept their word. I met Walter, and we closed the deal.

I'd never been inside Ginny's house before. I arrived promptly at eight AM, and saw that she had her books spread out on the dining room table. She was dressed the same as the day before, shorts and a T-shirt.

I told her that I'd read eight chapters of our assignment, four on Saturday morning, and not having anything else to do that night, I read four more.

She suggested that we start at the beginning, and began reading chapter one before I had a chance to differ. I didn't mind. The description of the unscrupulous car dealer in chapter one made me appreciate the ethical approach to business my grandfather practiced.

As Ginny read, I listened to her attempt to pronounce the Oklahoma dialect that Steinbeck had captured so well. I took notes. I also snuck peeks at Ginny from time to time.

Then it was my turn to read chapter two, the introduction of the main character, Tom Joad. Ginny took notes. I caught her looking my way a few times, probably critical of the way I muffed the dialect.

We took turns reading chapter by chapter until ten AM when Ginny suggested that we move outside. She stopped in the kitchen to pick up a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses. There was a table and chairs on the covered patio. We stayed there until it became too dark to see, except to move into the kitchen where she prepared sandwiches while I read a chapter.

While we were having our sandwiches, we discussed the part of the book that we had read so far.

"What impressions are you getting of the characters and the times?" she asked.

We were back on the patio. I placed one-half of my tuna fish sandwich on the plate, looked around the small backyard, collecting my thoughts. "There are two types of people, complicated and simple, aggressive and passive, and smart and stupid. We've already seen both types. As far as the times, we've seen the effects of the economic conditions, coupled with effects the weather had on both types of people."

Ginny looked impressed with my answer. I was proud of myself until she asked a more probing question. "Did the economic conditions and the weather make the characters more complicated or simple, more aggressive or passive, and smarter or more stupid than they were before the conditions changed?"

"I believe the conditions brought out those characteristics, yes, I believe opportunists saw the drought as a means to take advantage of the less fortunate."

Ginny toyed with her sandwich, occasionally glancing my way. "Are you always so cynical?"

"I hope not," I shrugged. "I believe we are products of our environment. Extreme conditions cause us to react the way we were trained."

We concentrated on finishing our sandwich, both thoughtful. Had I said the wrong thing? She got up and took the plates to the kitchen. She turned at the door. "I agree with you. Extreme conditions cause some to excel; others fall by the wayside."

I followed her inside, asking to use the bathroom. She directed me down a hall. After flushing the john, I was back in the hallway when I noticed a door partially open. I couldn't help but look in the room. Next to the bed was a photograph of a man in an Army uniform. There were second lieutenant's bars on his shoulders. Inserted at a bottom corner of the frame was a small picture of a soldier, squatting, dressed in the desert fatigues we'd seen when troops were assembling before the invasion of Iraq. I couldn't tell if it was the same man, and I didn't dare enter the room. Was her husband in Iraq?

We resumed reading, taking short breaks to stretch and discuss the story. It was quite pleasant on the patio, and we were making good progress with the book.

"Come in the kitchen. You can read while I make us something to eat," she suggested.

"That's not necessary. Let's order a pizza," I said, making it sound like an order, not a request.

She agreed, and we continued reading until the pizza arrived.

We had a dispute about which one of us would pay for the pizza. She argued that my driving us to class everyday was saving her money. She let me pay when I told her that I had a nice commission check coming. The elderly couple had returned with their grandson to buy the truck. She remembered them, and let me pay.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked, and then, "Oh, I forgot that you're...what...twenty?"

"I'll be twenty in October, but one glass of wine won't corrupt me."

"What day in October?"

"The twentieth," I said, wondering if she would decide I was too young for wine with the pizza.

"I beat you by two days. I'll be twenty-four on the eighteenth."

"We'll have to celebrate."

She laughed. "You wouldn't want to celebrate with an old lady like me."

I just looked at her, trying to convey that I'd like nothing better than to celebrate our birthdays together. From the way she looked back at me, I was sure she got the message.

We ate the pizza and had a glass of Merlot in the kitchen, then we resumed reading at the dining room table. It was ten-fifteen when I read the last paragraph of chapter thirty.

"We'll compare notes on the way to class tomorrow," she said, telling me that it was time for me to leave. The full day of reading and listening had exhausted me and I didn't argue.