"Sure I will. Ma," Rudi said. "I got a job. I start tomorrow. In an office, wrapping things. The mail room, they call it."
Silence descended on the little room.
"Ma," Rudi said at last. "Ma, what's wrong?"
"Wrong?" Mrs. Wladek said. "What should be wrong? Nothing at all is wrong. You have a job, very well, you have a job."
"You're not happy about it, Ma?"
Mrs. Wladek gave a short bark. "Happy? Indeed I should be happy? My son goes to work, like a dog, and I should be—" She paused and gasped suddenly. "Why did you go to work?"
"You mean why did I get a job, Ma?" Rudi said. "Listen, let's have supper and we'll talk about it, huh?"
"Supper?" Mrs. Wladek snorted. "Supper we will have when I find out what I need to know. Not before."
"But I'm hungry, Ma, and ... oh, all right." Rudi sat down on the old brown couch and sighed. "I just thought it would be a good idea to get a job, bring some bread into the house, you know? So I went down to the agency, and they had this application waiting, and I went down and got the job, and I start tomorrow. That's all. Now let's eat."
"You got the idea to have a job?" Mrs. Wladek said. "Fine. Fine. Just fine. And when did you get this idea?"