orangetoughguy | log post II

[Ugh. It shouldn't be so easy for Lawrence Dimick to make Freddy Newendyke's resolve crumble a little at a time. He actually looks over his shoulder like a sulking dog, tail not moving until they meet eye to eye at which point there's the slightest twitch of a wag. The kid just doesn't know what to say now.]

[That's encouraging, more than encouraging. But nothing's solved.]

I didn't mean it all like it came out. [I'm sorry.] You know that, right? [He's not going closer. The kid wants his space. Larry sticks where he is long enough to relay that much before stepping through the threshold of the sliding glass door.]

[When the kid left he left without a word, presumably to get some air and solitude.

When the kid comes back it isn't way late, more like bordering sundown, but he's got a tired look to his face and small marks to his knuckles like he clearly hit something. Hard.]

[The old man didn't leave. And he didn't order take out either. There's cereal out. Hearing the door is a relief and a half. Larry doesn't directly greet him but stands and approaches the entry way to get a look at what kind of condition the man is returning to him in.

Chew chew chew the bite in his mouth and then swallow.]

Hi.

[Freddy says upon meeting Larry face to face, considerably cooled down.]

Hello.

[Face to face, cool. Good. The old bear comes on closer. No touching though, not yet.]

Thirsty?

[God it hasn't even been that long--hours really--but he's missed this. He has to think about it for a moment. Then Freddy nods and moves to the kitchen to take a seat.]

Yeah, a beer would be good.

[Away to the fridge he goes. Larry cracks open a cold one for the kid. Of course he still keeps the door open to grab a beer for himself.

He missed the kid. It was driving him up the wall in the silence not knowing where he was, what he was doing. And no, it wasn't worry. Not entirely. Just misery not knowing what he was thinking, what he was feeling. No time like the present. The old man takes a load off beside the kid.]

So...

Thanks.

[He nods for the beer then takes a generous swig of it. Ah. Cold one on the counter now he also notes the inability to start a conversation. Well how does one even go about rectifying this situation?]

I overreacted.

[Say more, say what he told you.] I got mad cause all those doubts you got... [About God.] Well I got some of them too.

I think I over reacted too. We don't gotta talk about God or religion or church. [Though, that's not it at all. Not really. The first sip is cold, refreshing cutting through the remaining starch of cereal.]

Sorry I got you mad.

I was ready to pin it on some other guy, you know, just tell you someone else talked me into it, but that ain't right for anyone. [Freddy shakes his head while using the cold bottle to soothe the redness of his knuckles.] We gotta talk about it cause I want it, you know, I wanna...I wanna keep some of that with me. [In my life.]

I wanna know why it upsets you.

[...some other guy? Maybe he means it in a sarcastic way. Like he's two people. Larry takes another sip. Except that don't explain his knuckles.]

Some guy?

[It slips on out. He shakes his head and combs his fingers through his salt and pepper temple.]

I...want us to be able to talk about anything.

I know...

[He nods. Hey maybe Freddy can start, he kind of owes it to the old man after exploding on him like a menopausal bitch.]

This guy, we talked a little about it. About getting God back in my life.

[Not that he ever left. Oh and before Larry says anything the kid holds up his busted knuckled hand.] No he's not one of those guys who talks you up at a bus stop.

[That doesn't clear up anything else.]

Some priest you know? [They got those. And he also said that he didn't go to church. Priests don't need to be in church. Or maybe there's a bible community or something... For all he knows.]

...Did you punch a priest?

.......

[For that Freddy has to actually laugh. It's not a loud laugh but it's genuine and good humored. He's felt like punching a priest or two. But this guy is no priest.]

No. He's not a priest. He's kinda like a therapist I guess.

[Seeing him that lighthearted for only a few seconds is like a break in a storm.

Except see, that's spoiled by the fact that he said therapist.]

Therapist?

Yeah. Therapist.

[Freddy nods again. The expression on his face is already aware of how kind of bizarre it sounds, but it is what it is.]

Is he your therapist?

[Because that's something that someone should say If they're going to talk about a few things.]

Or...he's your friend that's a therapist?

No, no it's not like that. Fuck I don't pay the guy. [He shakes his head.] I mean I buy him lunch here and there...

Yeah, he's a guy I know who happens to be a therapist.

[A mouth full of booze doesn't change the taste of this. Okay, okay. Be cool. That wasn't the problem. And already there's another one? Problem may be pushing it.]

He doesn't try and like...analyze you or something does he? Because then that'd be like therapy for free.

[Which is suspicious. Another long drink.]

No. I mean...we talk about stuff.

[Already the kid has an idea where this is headed but now there's no turning back is there? He clears his throat after another sip of that beer. It doesn't do much to calm him. Shit Newendyke why are you nervous?]

He was helping me out after I came out of that memory lapse bullshit.

I didn't know.

[That he was getting therapy of any kind second hand or not. That he needed more help than he could offer.]

You seemed okay like. I mean, do you feel like you can't talk to me?

[About feeling mental trouble, about God about...shit.]

[Shit shit shit. Things sounded like they could've been on the up and up too.]

No, that ain't it, Larry.

[Then what is it, Newendyke? That's the part the kid can't answer even for himself.]

[That's what Larry thought too. Now though he's got a sinking feeling.]

Then what?

[His exasperation isn't in his voice because he keeps it down. He wants to know.]

...this guy musta helped you a lot.

Yeah that's why I hit him for givin' me the idea.

[The retort is quick and a little ill-timed even though Freddy really does mean to show his knuckles as evidence that this guy doesn't help out that much.]

We just talk over lunch sometimes. Not all the time. [Larry should know, if the kid's not with the therapist then he's with the old man.]

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