So Special

by Pauline Smith 

He’s sweeping again, the same as every night. Monday through to Friday, there’s Joe, sweeping the Memorial Union Library. He likes it here, likes the feel of the upholstery buttons, the smell of old brown leather with creases in it, likes the shine he helps put on the floor, the tick of old John Purdue’s clock on the wall with its pendulum hauling back and forth in time with his broom. Joe remembers a film his daddy had taken him to see a few years back, where a boy sweeps the street outside his daddy’s shop. The boy has a baseball cap and his friend always takes it off his head and puts it on again, backwards. That’s how the boy knows everything’s OK. Joe liked that part the most. Joe’s cap is brown when he works, but he has a real nice blue one, blue like the pictures of the sea he’s never seen except in his momma’s magazines. That’s the one he wears when he goes with his daddy for a pizza on Saturday night.

Joe loves to be at home with his mom and dad. He has his own room. He’s always had it, though his brothers have to share, in spite of them being older. Joe’s mom told him it was because he’s so special that he has his own room. He has lots of photos on the wall beside his bed, photos of him with pretty girls at the university. They like having their photo taken with Joe and he likes it too. When they ask, he always tells them OK as long as you give me a copy for my wall. And they almost always do. They tell him he’s real famous, a legend. It makes Joe feel like John Wayne. He likes it best when the girls put their arms round his shoulders. They tell him he’s special too. The sorority girls come to him most, dragging him out of the Union with his broom on sunny days before Spring Break.

“C’mon Joe. Come and have your photo taken with us, honey. You can sit with us in Donna’s car. Behind the wheel if you want to. We just gotta have this one to show our folks. What d’ya say?”

“OK. So long as you give me a copy for my wall,” Joe says. “And I can’t be very long or Mr Hultsman will come looking for me and then Joe will git into big trouble.”

The sorority girls smell real good mostly, pretty smells and gum. Joe likes the sound the gum makes in their mouths. They eat loud because of not wanting it to get stuck in the braces they wear on their teeth. Joe likes to tell the girls he’s been at the university for eight years. He figures it makes him sound real clever. He feels funny sometimes if they catch him sweeping, like he’s doing something he didn’t ought to be, but mostly the pretty girls don’t venture into the Memorial Union that much for reading. Mostly they only come in to find him for a photograph.

His mom and daddy don’t care for Joe’s photographs. They frown every time he puts up a new one. He doesn’t know why. He thinks they should be real proud of him for having so many pretty girls hanging on his arm. Sometimes his mom just comes over to him and hugs him. “My Joe,” she says. “My darling Joe.” Then she kisses his cheek and walks away. He likes that.

Joe always leaves the Library until last. That way he doesn’t have to disturb people reading their books. But on a Friday night, he never usually sees anyone. Nobody reads when they can be out partying. Joe is very particular about dust and he has to move the big brown leather sofa with the buttons, to sweep right underneath. For some reason, the most dust seems to hide underneath that one. Joe thinks it hides just from him. It’s like a game and he tells the dust that there’s no escape, but all those little old motes just keep on hiding in the same old places anyway.

Tonight as Joe sweeps the corners as usual, he comes across a battered old sack, all sprawled out on the floor by one of the other big leather sofas. It looks like it belongs to a girl who’s curled up asleep on the sofa like a little jackrabbit. It bothers Joe that he will have to disturb her so he can beat the dust. He hovers around awhile, sweeping a little faster, hoping the girl will hear him and get the message. As he gets closer, he stops sweeping for a moment and looks at her, putting his head to one side so’s he can see her face properly. He can see that she’s real pretty. Dark brown hair curls across her shoulder and tickles part of her face. She’s wearing a pair of black tracksters and her arms are folded across the university logo on her sweatshirt. Joe is a little annoyed with her for still wearing her dirty old basketball boots and putting them on his shiny leather. He only polished it last night. But that feeling soon fades as he thinks what a good picture it would make to have him and her together up there on his wall.

 “Excuse me, pretty lady, but I have to do my sweeping now.” 

She does not wake.

“Miss? Hey miss, I have to be here now…and you’re gonna have to move off for a while. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

Still the girl doesn’t wake. Joe knows he is going to have to touch her. It’s always OK when they touch him. It makes him smile. It makes him happy. But to touch one of them first sends him into a bad panic. He doesn’t think he ought. He thinks about going back to the janitor’s office and asking Mr Hultsman to come and help him. But then he remembers that Mr Hultsman left over an hour ago to take his wife out for their anniversary dinner. Joe told him not to worry, he would be fine. He was proud that Mr Hultsman had given him the extra responsibility.

He leans on his broom and sighs. The clock ticks and shimmies this way and that like it always does, not giving him any help at all. All it tells him is that it is ten before ten and he’s gonna be running late and his mom will worry where he is. He looks around but there’s no one to help him. He can smell the polish from his aerosol can and all he can see is his reflection in the walnut dresser at his side. He tries again.

“Miss? Excuse me, miss? Wake up now. This is Joe here, the cleaner. You just have to wake up for a moment.” He moves closer and gently nudges her arm.

Slowly, the girl’s head lifts and her eyes open lazily. “What? What’s the matter? Is there a problem? I thought at least I would be safe here. God dammit!”

As she starts to raise her voice, unpeeling her legs and arms from the sofa, Joe backs away and looks down at his broom.

“I’m sorry lady. Joe’s only doing his job. I do under here every Friday night late. Please don’t be mad at me.” Joe drops his eyes to the floor and pretends to sweep the floor by the dresser, the part he did half an hour back.

Finally she says, “It’s OK. I’m sorry. I’m just a little riled because you woke me up, that’s all. C’mon, let me help you move this heavy old thing.”

“Oh no, miss, it’s OK. I can manage it on my own. I always do.” Joe pivots the sofa round 90 degrees like he was dancing with a ballerina, while the girl stands beside him running her hands through tangled curls.

“Hey Joe. Listen up now. Why don’t I make it up to you? This is your last job right?”

“Right.”

“So why don’t you and I go get a coffee? I’ll even let you buy me a cheeseburger, if you want. You must be hungry finishing work so late.”

“Oh no, it’s OK, miss, really. Thank you and all, but my mom makes me special supper on a Friday and I have to get straight home.”

“Well OK, if you’re sure. I just wanted to make it up to you for being such a sore head. Maybe another time, huh? My name’s Melanie, by the way.”

Joe feels his face burning. His old broom begins to move faster than usual and his chest aches a little “Bye bye…Melanie.” He keeps his eyes firmly on his broom until he hears Melanie’s footsteps. Then he smiles, lifts his head and watches her walk out the door.

By nine fifty eight, the Memorial Union Library is shining bright. Joe has the keys safely deposited with the janitor just as John Purdue’s clock strikes ten.

****

The following Friday and Joe has a stirring in his belly. He feels like he used to when he was waiting for his buddies to come round for his special birthday tea. Just before two, he asks his mom if he can wear a fresh shirt.

 “Why Joe Radovitz, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you had your eye on a girl. Sure you can have a clean shirt, honey. It’ll just take me a minute to iron. Did you spill something on your other one again?

            “No. I just got a little warm yesterday and it don’t smell so good.”

            “Doesn’t, honey, doesn’t, not don’t. You know your daddy would be cross if he heard you getting your grammar wrong.”

            “I’m sorry, momma. It doesn’t smell so good anyway.”

While she goes off to the kitchen, Joe wonders if he should tell her about Melanie. But before he can decide, she comes back with a cool white cotton shirt.

“There. How does that one smell? Fresher, I’ll bet.”

“Thank you, momma. I’m sorry to be a nuisance.”

“Hey, now, you’re not a nuisance, honey. You’re my special Joe. You always remember that, do you hear?” Joe’s momma holds his head in her hands and kisses his forehead.

“I love you, momma.”

“Now come on, or else you’ll be late for work and Mr Hultsman will be on the telephone wondering where you are. Your sandwiches are all ready in the kitchen. I got you bologna and pickle. Your favourite. Oh and a Betcha Life bar as a special treat.”

“Momma?”

“Yes honey. What is it?”

“I may work a little late tonight. I’m gonna ask Mr Hultsman if I can do some polishing on the trophies. I wanna earn me a little extra money for something that I can’t tell you nothin’ about. Would it be OK if you don’t cook hot for me tonight?”

“Why sure, son. You just let me know what you are going to do so that I don’t go worrying. Oh – and Joe?”

“Yes, momma?”

“It’s can’t tell you anything about, not can’t tell you nothin’. OK?”

“OK momma. I’m sorry.”

“My Joe,” she says, ruffling his hair.

Joe doesn’t like lying to his momma but he feels special today, like his momma’s always saying, and that makes it OK. Just one time. He has on his fresh shirt, his shoes shine from the brushing he gave them this morning and he’s re-shaped the peak of his cap. He looks real smart. Joe likes his uniform. He likes the epaulettes and the University logo sewn into the breast pocket. It makes him feel like he belongs there. He likes to think of himself as a student sometimes so his daddy would be proud of him. Joe often thinks it’s funny that he rarely sees his daddy around, with him being so important an’ all in the University. Still, Joe’s just real glad to be working in the same place. Sometimes when he takes a little stroll out onto State Street early in the early evening, he hopes he might bump into him. The Head of Recreation Management. That’s what his daddy does and Joe likes to say it to himself even though he doesn’t know exactly what it means. His daddy has told him not to mention it to too many people either. Joe thinks maybe there’s something secret about it. He likes secrets.

Melanie is his secret. The reason he’s lied to his momma. She’s not like the sorority girls. They’re loud and they don’t really care for him, they just like him in their photos. He knows that deep down. Why, not one ever offered to let him take them for a cheeseburger. But Melanie, well she’s different. One of a kind, not one of the crowd. Like him. He likes that.

That night Joe takes special care to keep himself clean and to keep his cap on straight. He polishes his glasses with one of the fluffy dusters and washes his hands and face before he goes to the Library with his broom to clean a usual.

Melanie is there! This time she’s sitting on the big old sofa, reading the newspaper. And this time Joe knows exactly what he is going to say. He walks right up to her. No chasing the dust with his broom.

“Hello Melanie. This is Joe. Do you remember? I woke you up right here last week. We can have a cheeseburger when I finish tonight if you want to. I told momma I may work late but it ain’t true. I brought my camera along in my sack. It’s in Mister Hultsman’s office. I thought you might like to have your photograph taken with me like everyone else does. Only this time it will be my photograph and I’ll get one made for you too. That’s alright ain’t it?”

Then Joe notices a strange thing. Melanie is looking at him as if she’s never set eyes on him before. She folds the newspaper and stands up.

“Fuck off, creep. And if you ever come near me again, I swear you’ll be out of this shit hole of a job before you know what’s hit your dumb little pea brain. The only photograph you’ll get tonight is when the police take you in for harrassin’ me and they get your mug shot. Bet you won’t want that one on your wall. Asshole.”

Melanie spits at Joe and knocks his cap off onto the floor. Then she throws down the newspaper, whisks her sack off the sofa and runs through towards the door. The ball of gob slides slowly down the left lens of Joe’s glasses as he watches her, speechless. He drops his broom and stands there, arms by his sides. Big tears stream down his face onto the university logo of his fresh white shirt.

He can feel something warm and wet running down his legs onto the floor he polished extra well today. The floor he polished for Melanie. Shaking now, he reaches down and picks up his cap, rolls it round and round in his clammy hands. At the entrance to the Library two sorority girls, dressed up and ready to party, hear the commotion. Joe recognises them from a photo he has on his wall. He remembers their names too – Sarah and Mary Ellen. He’s good at names. They move towards him and Joe starts shuffling, feeling all mixed up.

“Hey Joe Radovitz. What’s all that noise, huh? You upsetting a lady – that’s not like you.” says Sarah.

“Hi Sarah. I didn’t do nothin’ to her. Honest I didn’t. She - she said I was an asshole and other bad things and now I don’t know what to do. Can you get Mister Hultsman to help me, please? I dun had a little accident I think.” He wipes the snot from his nose onto the back of his hand.

“Sure I will, honey. You just wait right there with Mary Ellen.” Joe hears Sarah’s spiky heels on his floor as she hurries to the janitor’s office.

“Don’t you worry none about her, Joe,” says Mary Ellen, picking up the newspaper from the floor. “She wasn’t even a student here. Look, she got all the homeless hostels circled in the Indy Star. Your Melanie’s a hobo, Joey boy. You’ve gone and made this place too damn comfortable for the likes of her.”

Mary Ellen puts her arm round Joe’s shoulder and with her other hand, she takes his cap and puts it back on his head. She puts it on backwards.