In the Course of Human Events. Mike Harvkey

work ethic they wouldn’t a needed to pilfer Africa of its babies and the Negro would never have set foot on American soil. Ever since they have, their presence is a fuckin cancer, just spreads and spreads, from the south to the north, from the city to the country. They only eleven percent of the population today but they’re about a hundred percent of the problem.” Jay jumped up then, disappearing into the house. When he came back, he had an AR-15.

      “Damn,” Clyde said. He’d seen assault weapons at gun shows but never held one.

      Jay handed it over. “Ain’t loaded,” he said, nodding at a clip on the step. The gun was light as hell. Clyde sighted at a distant piece of machinery and gave it back. Jay slapped the clip in and pointed it at the woods. “Pow,” he said. “One of these days they get the idea.” He lowered the gun and got a new smoke lit. “Hell.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “They only the tip of the iceberg.”

      By the time Jan talked Tina in, it was after three and Clyde was drunker than he’d ever been. He’d never drunk whisky before—only beer—and he had no idea how mean it could be. He and Tina made up in the yard and then Clyde puked into the mulch around one of the saplings and lay down on the damp, cold ground. In the light of day he woke on the sofa in the front room with Jay crouched beside his face, whispering, “Cryde-san . . . Cryde-san . . . ”

      “What time is it?” he said, pushing the blanket down. He was in a clean pair of karate pants and a T-shirt he didn’t own. His throat burned, stomach threatened, a headache began at the base of his skull, crawled around his temples, and dug in behind the eyes. It would have been easier to throw up than not to.

      “Time for work, Cryde-san . . . time for work.” Clyde had forgotten all about Walmart, but Jay hadn’t.

      As Clyde got ready to go, Jan made coffee in a pair of sagging panties and a torn T-shirt, no bra. She handed Clyde a cup and held his face when she kissed his cheek with warm, smoky breath. Clyde liked Jan and he liked Jay, a lot. He wasn’t sure about Tina. He’d never known a girl like this, sweet and sexy one minute, shithouse crazy the next, like Jekyll and Hyde. But Jay’s words from last night came to him: in too deep, that’s what he was.

      “What time’s your shift over?” Jay asked him.

      It took Clyde a moment to answer. His brain felt like potted meat. “Eleven thirty, I think.”

      “See you in class tonight?”

      Clyde groaned. “Osu. Might need to recuperate a little bit.”

      Jay blew across his coffee mug, steam shaking across the top. “Mm,” Jay said. “You know what ‘osu’ means?”

      Clyde realized he didn’t.

      “Comes from ‘oshi shinobu,’” Jay said. “‘Oshi’ means to persevere and ‘shinobu’ means while being tested. If you ain’t gonna do that, then don’t use the word.”

      Clyde felt his chest tighten. “Oh,” he said. Jay had told him to say “osu” for everything.

      Jay waved a hand. “Guess I see you when I see you.”

      “No,” Clyde said. “Sounds good.”

      “Clyde-san,” Jay said, getting close enough that Clyde could hear him breathing. “Don’t do me no favors. I’ll train with you or without you. Don’t matter to me.”

      “I’ll be here.”

      “Strength through repetition, Sosei said. Sosei said it takes a thousand days to master your basics. I don’t believe in part time, Clyde. Part time is half-assed.”

      “Osu,” Clyde said.

      “Oh, and, uh,” Jay said, “just use my computer to write that letter after class.”

      Clyde nodded. The truth was, he figured he’d just have to pay the fucking IRS. They seemed serious. But he didn’t have a fraction of what they were asking for, even with two jobs. But Jay seemed pretty set on it, so he’d give it a try.

      After punching in at Walmart, Clyde went to Pets, walking with a minor limp and carrying a general air of abuse. When Esther saw him she hugged him and said, “You poor kitty, what happened?” She inspected his bruised forearms and made the run to Starbucks herself, without asking for money. She came back with two venti cups, hers black, his sweet and light, and slipped her arms around Clyde’s waist, laid her cheek between his shoulders and said, “Sorry about the other night.” Clyde nodded and Esther squeezed him harder. It made his stomach lurch. “You know what I bet’d make you feel better?” she said.

      “Huh uh.”

      “A blow job.”

      Clyde’s breath came out in a cough.

      Esther split away, picked something up from one of the shelves. “I’m serious,” she said, looking in a murky tank. “Whenever you want, okay? Just come up to me and say, ‘Why don’t we go out and sit in my truck a while.’ I’d love to do that for you.” Clyde nodded and Esther smiled like he’d just made her day.

      By the end of his shift Clyde didn’t feel much better. He’d accomplished almost nothing. Pets was still a ruin. Just before the shift ended, Tina appeared in the mouth of the aisle. “Found him,” she said. Her eyes skipped to Esther the next aisle over and narrowed. Tina’s mom came around with a shopping cart. Clyde had been trying to put a fish tank together and Esther was pricing chew toys.

      “Mrs. Smalls,” Clyde said, looking from Tina to Esther and back. Tina didn’t like that, didn’t like that at all. “What are you guys doing here?”

      “Well, Tina’s working,” Jan said with a crooked grin.

      Tina flapped a notepad and said, “Brand strategy stuff.”

      “And I’m getting groceries. You like Mexican food, Clyde?”

      “Uh, yeah,” he said.

      “I was thinking about making tacos tonight,” Jan said. “How’d you feel about that?”

      Clyde scratched his eyebrow so he could glance at Esther. She was pretending not to watch. “Sounds good,” he said softly.

      “Figure you might be hungry after class,” Jan said.

      “And after last night, thanks to you, we need more whiskey,” Tina said, all her teeth showing. Clyde couldn’t tell if she was joking. But then she took a bunch of little girl steps in his direction, as if her knees had been bound with electrical tape, and kissed Clyde on his cheek. “I better not see you flirting with that little blonde slut,” she whispered in Clyde’s ear. “Don’t forget who your girlfriend is, buddy.” She leaned back and smiled. Loudly, so that anyone close by could hear her, she said, “Okay, honey, see you tonight.”

      Tina and Jan went off in search of taco shells and Clyde returned his attention to the tank. Esther didn’t say anything until he’d removed his name tag and punched out and wandered back to Pets for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. “Wow,” she said when she saw him.

      “What?” he said.

      Esther shook her head, her mouth tight like she’d rather not say.

      “What?” Clyde said. “Come on.”

      “Just,” Esther said. “Kinda pushy, right?”

      “You think?”

      “Uh, yeah. Showing up while you’re at work asking you what you want for dinner?”

      “Huh.” Clyde knew she was right and looked between aisles for signs of them.

      “Pretty,” Esther said.

      “What?”

      “Your girlfriend’s pretty.” Esther stamped a chew toy with a tag.

      “Mm.” Clyde looked around. Tina and Jan were very likely still in the store. “She’s, uh . . . ”