The Grapes of Wrath

Tom said, “Ya full a crap. Why, I knowed a one-legged whore one time. Think she was takin’ two-bits in a alley? No, by God! She’s gettin’ half a dollar extra. She says, ’How many one-legged women you slep’ with? None!’ she says. ’O.K.,’ she says. ’You got somepin pretty special here, an’ it’s gonna cos’ ya half a buck extry’. An’ by God, she was gettin’ ’em, too, an’ the fellas comin’ out thinkin’ they’re pretty lucky. She says she’s good luck. An’ I knowed a hump-back in— in a place I was. Make his whole livin’ lettin’ folks rub his hump for luck. Jesus Christ, an’ all you got is one eye gone.”

The man said stumblingly, “Well, Jesus, ya see somebody edge away from ya, an’ it gets into ya.”

“Cover it up then, goddamn it. Ya stickin’ it out like a cow’s ass. Ya like to feel sorry for yaself. There ain’t nothin’ the matter with you. Buy yaself some white pants. Ya gettin’ drunk an’ cryin’ in ya bed, I bet. Need any help, Al?”

“No,” said Al. “I got this here bearin’ loose. Jus’ tryin’ to work the piston down.”

“Don’ bang yaself,” said Tom.

The one-eyed man said softly, “Think— somebody’d like— me?”

“Why, sure,” said Tom. “Tell ’em ya dong’s growed sence you los’ your eye.”

“Where at you fellas goin’?”

“California. Whole family. Gonna get work out there.”

“Well, ya think a fella like me could get work? Black patch on my eye?”

“Why not? You ain’t no cripple.”

“Well— could I catch a ride with you fellas?”

“Christ, no. We’re so goddamn full now we can’t move. You get out some other way. Fix up one a these here wrecks an’ go out by yaself.”

“Maybe I will, by God,” said the one-eyed man.

There was a clash of metal. “I got her,” Al called.

“Well, bring her out, let’s look at her.” Al handed him the piston and connecting-rod and the lower half of the bearing.

Tom wiped the babbitt surface and sighted along it sideways.

“Looks O.K. to me,” he said. “Say, by God, if we had a light we could get this here in tonight.”

“Say, Tom,” Al said, “I been thinkin’. We got no ring clamps. Gonna be a job gettin’ them rings in, specially underneath.” Tom said, “Ya know, a fella tol’ me one time ya wrap some fine brass wire aroun’ the ring to hol’ her.”

“Yeah, but how ya gonna get the wire off?”

“Ya don’t get her off. She melts off an’ don’t hurt nothin’.”

“Copper wire’d be better.”

“It ain’t strong enough,” said Tom. He turned to the one-eyed man.

“Got any fine brass wire?”

“I dunno. I think they’s a spool somewheres. Where d’ya think a fella could get one a them patches one-eye’ fellas wear?”

“I don’ know,” said Tom. “Le’s see if you can fin’ that wire.” In the iron shed they dug through boxes until they found the spool. Tom set the rod in a vise and carefully wrapped the wire around the piston rings, forcing them deep into their slots, and where the wire was twisted he hammered it flat; and then he turned the piston and tapped the wire all around until it cleared the piston wall. He ran his finger up and down to make sure that the rings and wire were flush with the wall. It was getting dark in the shed. The one-eyed man brought a flashlight and shone its beam on the work.

“There she is!” said Tom. “Say— what’ll ya take for that light?”

“Well, it ain’t much good. Got fifteen cents’ a new batteries. You can have her for— oh, thirty-five cents.”

“O.K. An’ what we owe ya for this here con-rod an’ piston?”

The one-eyed man rubbed his forehead with a knuckle, and a line of dirt peeled off. “Well, sir, I jus’ dunno. If the boss was here, he’d go to a parts book an’ he’d find out how much is a new one, an’ while you was workin’, he’d be findin’ out how bad you’re hung up, an’ how much jack ya got, an’ then he’d— well, say it’s eight bucks in the part book— he’d make a price a five bucks. An’ if you put up a squawk, you’d get it for three. You say it’s all me, but, by God, he’s a son-of-a-bitch. Figgers how bad ya need it. I seen him git more for a ring gear than he give for the whole car.”

“Yeah! But how much am I gonna give you for this here?”

“’Bout a buck, I guess.”

“Awright, an’ I’ll give ya a quarter for this here socket wrench. Make it twice as easy.” He handed over the silver. “Thank ya. An’ cover up that goddamn eye.”

Tom and Al got into the truck. It was deep dark. Al started the motor and turned on the lights. “So long,” Tom called. “See ya maybe in California.” They turned across the highway and started back.

The one-eyed man watched them go, and then he went through the iron shed to his shack behind. It was dark inside. He felt his way to the mattress on the floor, and he stretched out and cried in his bed, and the cars whizzing by on the highway only strengthened the walls of his loneliness.

Tom said, “If you’d tol’ me we’d get this here thing an’ get her in tonight, I’d a said you was nuts.”

“We’ll get her in awright,” said Al. “You got to do her, though. I’d be scared I’d get her too tight an’ she’d burn out, or too loose an’ she’d hammer out.”

“I’ll stick her in,” said Tom. “If she goes out again, she goes out. I got nothin’ to lose.”