***1977***

“Honey, there’s someone at the door who wants to talk to Tommy.”

“Jesus Helen, it’s after dinnertime. Tell him to come back tomorrow.”

“It isn’t a kid.”

I knew right then that I was in deep shit.

***

When my parents came to my room, there was a man wearing a tie with them. He sat down at my desk chair and looked at me, and said “Hello Tommy”. “Hello” I said. Then he introduced himself as Mr Orourke from the Providence youth services division asked me if I had been at the Johnston rest-stop on route 95 yesterday evening. I was nervous as hell, and must have looked it.

“I doubt it,” I said. I knew that an outright denial was a bad move, but I wanted to allow for the possibility that he couldn’t prove it.

“You doubt it.” He said, looking up at my parents, and then back at me.

“He was at his friend Jimmy’s house.” My mom said, looking at me hopefully.

“Is that true Tommy?” Asked the man. I nodded. The man pulled a small notepad out of his pocket and wrote in it.

“Were you at Jimmie’s house for the entire evening?” He asked. I sat silent.

“Look.” said my father. “Why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell us what this is about.”

“Alright” said the man. Then he explained that yesterday evening just after 10, two boys were seen vandalizing an air compressor. “Does this sound familiar to you Tommy?” He asked.

I knew I should confess at that point, but I couldn’t think of how he could prove it, and I stayed silent. Everyone knew I was guilty.

“Mr Brancaccio.” Said the man, looking at my father. “Could you please tell me what you do for a living?”

“Yeah,” Said my dad. “I put coin-operated tire-filling machines at gas stations and service areas.”

“Tommy?” The man asked. “Do I need to call in to my office to have someone sent to your friend Jimmy’s house?”

“No Sir.” I said.

***

The next day at school, I was expecting someone to know what had happened, because there were kids with parents who worked for the police. But other than Ms Graff telling me that I looked sullen, nobody said anything. Jimmy did end up getting a visit the night before, but the videotape that showed me cutting the air compressor hose, also showed him tugging at my sleeve, trying to discourage me. I avoided him at recess.

At the end of the day, Ms Graff pulled me aside and told me to go to an office on the top floor. I don’t think she knew what had happened, but she knew I had gotten in trouble. The man last night had told me to expect this.

The office was tiny, and the man I met was Mr Pantolo, one of the guidance councilors. I had spoken to him once before, after a teacher caught me smashing bottles against a wall.

“Hello Tommy.”

“Hi Mr Pantolo.”

“I met with your parents about an hour ago, and everyone’s real worried about you.”

“I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?”

Mr Pantolo smiled.

“I told your mom about how when I was a kid, I threw rocks through the windows of an old warehouse, and said that I turned out alright.” I smiled for the first time that day. “And I wasn’t even defending the family business… So as long as you don't end up short and bald, you should be good.” I tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it.

“What’s gonna happen?” I asked.

“Well, I told your mom she should hug you and tell you she still loves you, so you should brace yourself for that when you get home.”

“Thanks Mr Pantolo.”

“Places that let you fill your tires for free don’t help your family business. Your dad must have complained about that.”

I sat silent. Mr Pantolo rubbed his chin.

“Don’t worry Tommy, you won’t be ratting on your father. He already mentioned to me that this is something he’s brought up in your presence. He wanted to take the heat for you.”

I nodded. My dad was stern, and I hadn’t expected that.

“You know, when I was a kid, all gas stations had free compressed air. Can you tell me why they don’t anymore?”

“Because people filled their tires without buying gas?”

“That’s sound reasoning Tommy. Ms Graff told me you were smart. Back in the old days, some stations didn’t have that problem because they had crews that would check your tires while you were at the pump.”

“Really?”

“That’s right. They cleaned the windshield, checked the oil, and topped off the wiper fluid too.”

“Wow. That must have been expensive.”

“Maybe. But it brought in customers, so it was worth it…. Do you have any idea why this stopped?”

“People got tired of it?”

“You’re probably right. As us students of cliche would say, ‘the novelty soon wore off’.”

I liked listening to Mr Pantolo even when I didn’t understand what he said.

Can you tell me why the state rest area lets you fill for free?”

I thought for a while. “Safety?”

“That’s a good guess. And everyone who pays taxes is paying for the rest stop.”

I nodded.

“Your dad also mentioned to me that there’s a company that just started selling mini air compressors that plug into your cigarette lighter.”

“Really?”

“That’s right. And there’s a new product using aerosol cans too. You know your dad is in a tough business. Do you know who else’s business is tough?”

“Firemen?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Tough and dangerous… but the point I’m trying to make is that most people are in a tough business.”

“Not everyone.”

Mr pantolo thought for a while.

“Well. Even if that were true, would you really want to be one of the people who had it easier than everyone else?”

I had always thought that was the whole point. You get the accounts and let the machines make the money. Now I wasn’t sure.

"I guess not.”

Mr Pantolo smiled.

“Well Tommy. Your dad is in a tough business, but he has a good son to help him, and I’m guessing that if it can succeed, you two will make it happen… so good luck to you. And your mom said you’re going to have your first little-league game this weekend. So good luck with that too.”

“Thank you Mr Pantolo.”

On my way out he stopped me.

“Oh, by the way Tommy, I spoke with your friend Jimmy a little earlier, and he says he’s not angry at you for getting him in trouble… and he hopes to see you tomorrow at recess.”

I left smiling.