does battle with the rusty levers that join his ligaments and bones, provoking creaks and grunts and groans. [279] 26/6 stand this, Jo. too much. “I can’t It’s too young to be geriatric. I’m I was a starting forward, touch or tackle; I could take a hat trick against the keenest teenage batters. What do I do now?” “Nothing matters except your getting better now.” wish it were that simple. How “I are we supposed to live until I get back on my feet? broke; We’re nothing in the bank but smoke. There’s How do we pay the doctor’s bill?” be fine. says Jo, “It’ll Relax,” but with her shrug says: I know. don’t [280] 27/6 struggling underneath a swamp She’s of pamphlets, documents and forms, the guardians of comp. worker’s navigated through the swarms She’s of red tape, loopholes and disclaimers impertinent as lion-tamers, and come against a shrugging wall. was an accidental “It fall,” their representative concedes, Stanley had no business there, “but and he was drunk, and we wear can’t the cost of Joanna reads this.” the fine print till her vision blurs and unproductively demurs. [281] 28/6 says right here, in the award—” “It know just for employees—” “You that’s promised him. This is a fraud—” “You on a contract. “Your father’s He’s been paid well. been well looked He’s after....” Their condescending tones, their laughter, their slick and watertight responses, this ponderous pontoon of ponces drives her to furious distraction. over, you hear me? “This isn’t twice the man ever be, He’s you’ll all put Their reaction together!” better tell it to the (“You’d jury”)
does battle with the rusty levers that join his ligaments and bones, provoking creaks and grunts and groans. [279] 26/6 “I can’t stand this, Jo. It’s too much. I’m too young to be geriatric. I was a starting forward, touch or tackle; I could take a hat trick against the keenest teenage batters. What do I do now?” “Nothing matters except your getting better now.” “I wish it were that simple. How are we supposed to live until I get back on my feet? We’re broke; There’s nothing in the bank but smoke. How do we pay the doctor’s bill?” “It’ll be fine. Relax,” says Jo, but with her shrug says: I don’t know. [280] 27/6 She’s struggling underneath a swamp of pamphlets, documents and forms, the guardians of worker’s comp. She’s navigated through the swarms of red tape, loopholes and disclaimers impertinent as lion-tamers, and come against a shrugging wall. “It was an accidental fall,” their representative concedes, “but Stanley had no business there, and he was drunk, and we can’t wear the cost of this.” Joanna reads the fine print till her vision blurs and unproductively demurs. [281] 28/6 “It says right here, in the award—” “You know that’s just for employees—” “You promised him. This is a fraud—” “Your father’s on a contract. He’s been paid well. He’s been well looked after....” Their condescending tones, their laughter, their slick and watertight responses, this ponderous pontoon of ponces drives her to furious distraction. “This isn’t over, you hear me? He’s twice the man you’ll ever be, all put together!” Their reaction (“You’d better tell it to the jury”)