orangetoughguy | log post II

I don't know. Four cups? Five?

[The pot is still pretty full. Usually two cups would do the job.]

What?

[He has to sit up and lean in order to see what the fuck he's talking about.]

Never thought about what was in it to begin with.

[Green eyes and beady toucan eyes. At least he knows that in reality these are good hands. If this ain't a dream.]

S'what the bottle says.

[Freddy points out on the label before tossing it in the trash. The toucan puffs himself up a bit before croaking in Larry's face (whatever that means, could be "Feed me, Lawrence.")]

Maybe you oughta try some of that fancy Italian crap.

[He means espresso, not to make light of Larry's situation either, but neither does Freddy want to draw too much attention to it.]

[Now is not the time Beaky Jr. The old man shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair.]

I'll try anything. Too bad booze don't keep you awake. Hey.

[He could add booze to a drink. The glee fades.]

Drunk nightmares aren't worth it though.

[Heavy sigh.]

Gonna have a seat?

[Here, just in case he'll make himself less sprawled.]

[Have a seat and do what? The kid's not sure if just sitting with him is going to do the old man any good. He's already gone through a trade paperback and a couple boxes of cereal. Going up to take a shower leaving Larry alone for just minutes already felt like a big risk. Either way, Freddy pokes the toucan aside ("Awk.") to take that seat.]

Yeah. You wanna watch a movie or something?

[How many options are they going to exhaust before Freddy finds himself without any defense for Lawrence Dimick? He runs a hand through his damp browner-looking hair.]

[Talking about it could help. And hurt. It's one thing to say that there are nightmares and nightmares about jail. Shit, the no brained answer is don't fucking commit crimes or get caught. Freddy's not the I told you so kind of an asshole.

Still.

Do they have to keep on talking about these differences when the end game seems so far off?]

Yeah. Sure. A movie.

[Boy he almost nodded off right there it took so long to say something.

Brown eyes look on that bird. He wants in on the action, like there is any at all. Wherever the kid goes.]

[Talking about it isn't out of the question either but how does a guy approach another guy about what scares him shitless? Freddy doesn't know and he doesn't want to nag the old man about it either. Maybe there are some chapters even the kid isn't allowed to read.]

How does Ghostbusters sound?

[Yeah, that's his recommendation instead of Goodfellas or something. The toucan's looking at Larry like Sam's actually interested in his answer.]

[Lawrence Dimick is a brave, bad motherfucker. If anyone asked he would say he's not afraid of anything.

Except going away for life.

Shit he wants his whole life to be an open book to Freddy's flappy hands as much as it is to those volumes he poured over. It's not so simple, not when the old man doesn't want to talk about or face them himself. Maybe he is not so brave and big as he thought himself to be.]

Sounds just fine. I haven't seen that one in ages.

Cool.

[He springs off the couch to pop it in, not wasting any time in getting that flick up and running. The toucan here isn't fooled though, he croaks in Larry's face again, a casual e-e-e-ee-ee-e before Sam hops off to busy himself with a chain of shiny plastic rings.]

It's funny because--

[On second thought the kid shuts his mouth as he plops back down beside the old man. The last ghost he can recall meeting was supposedly Larry's mom. Not funny at all.] Anyway...

[Has Sam picked up on all of Freddy's habits? The kid is great in his face, except not this big ol' beak. Good thing he hopped off. Larry's not in the mood to put up with it at all.]

Because?

[Yeah, bird. Go off in there. His attention is now on the kid setting it all up. Right now he's focused on a different misery. Seeing Ma Dimick was more like seeing the real deal. Sure she is dead, yet somehow not a ghost. Not to Larry.]

Nothin'.

[Good save, Newendyke, except not.] Want me to get you that coffee?

Bullshit.

[A barefoot nudges Freddy.]

Yeah. That'd be good. So would an answer you know. I like funny things. What'd your bird do?

[And if not the bird it was something out of a comic or cartoon...right?]

[Of course he'd call him out on it in his gentle Lawrence Dimick kind of way. He may be a big bear but he knows how to use those paws delicately.] Nothin', Sam didn't do a thing.

[Come on spit it out Newendyke maybe he won't think so badly of it. The opening scene is just about to start. Freddy gets up to make that cup of coffee.] Just you know, it's a movie. That.

[He gestures at the large TV screen from here that still shows the etchings and marks of an old film.] We're watching this movie in a place where shit like that can really happen, you know? It's funny.

[Not really. He brings the cup over to Larry, black.]

[The screen is on but the old man's eye is following Freddy much like an interested toucan.

That's a funny similarity yes but not hilarious enough to mention. Watch it now, Newendyke.]

It is. Kinda.

[The potent smell of fresh beans are a welcomed distraction. He'll take that.]

Were you gonna say something about ghosts?

[Ghosts here?]

[Great. Orange clears his throat and shakes his head which stands for 'not anymore' because he doesn't have the balls to say it and saying 'no' would be an outright lie. Come on Freddy you can do better.]

Do you wanna talk about it?

[His face looks pained when he asks the question because there's no better way to ask.]

[The light bulb clicks on. Ghosts. Pasts. Funny? Nope. Not a bit. The way Freddy is treating it with kid gloves quells the old man's temper.]

No.

[Though really now old man. He takes a sip of coffee before looking up again.]

Not really.

[Another breath before he takes the extra step.]

Not like I'm trying to be evasive or nothing.

[Now who is the one fumbling with the ball.]

[Coffee and cigarettes, that usually helps in the short run for this kid so he offers a smoke to Larry. His brand of choice of course.]

Okay. You don't have to.

[He takes a Marlboro out for himself. Fortunately Freddy doesn't snort when he claims he's not being evasive either. Sure he's not outright running but if anyone here knows how to be a wallflower or just a fly on the wall it's Freddy Newendyke.]

But if you wanna you can. I mean I like listening to you too. [In case Larry didn't know.]

I know, baby.

[A smoke is just what the doctor ordered. The old man takes it gladly.]

Whenever I even think about it, it's like feeling like walls are closing in.

[Another sip before he puts the mug on the coffee table.]

It's not a place I wanna go back to.

[Even in memory, when it's right behind his closed eyes though?]

I know you don't.

[He killed cops just to make sure of it. If Freddy had to endure the same thing would that be his nightmare? What about Marvin Nash? Where does he fit in? To this day Freddy still harbors no regret for having gunned down that psychopath. Where does the mother fit in? Freddy doesn't know what it's like to be in prison--he hopes he never really does--but he understands fear even if he was supposedly brave enough for that one day.]

But I'm right here, okay? Maybe you can't see me there but I got your back. They can't do anything to you while I'm around.

[Orange hopes to fucking God he can make good on that promise. They can't control how Larry keeps his warm brown eyes open or shut.]

[A deep drag of his cigarette mellows him just a little.]

Nothing you do is on your own time. You gotta wake up when they tell you to. Be with whoever wherever they put you.

[Coffee. More coffee. Larry takes a sip, the opposite hand is holding his cigarette.]

The first day I got the shit kicked out of me.

[It's no place for Freddy. The fella is smart as a whip and strong where he needs to be but the people in there are scum, lower than scum. Thinking about the man he'd do anything for living out a part of what the old man went through is a nightmare all its own.]

Stuff like that's something you don't hear there, not for free.

[Freddy nods, listening like he said he would. Some of it's nothing new to him, he may not have been to prison but he's tossed guys in the jail houses. Word on the street is the county jail can be just as bad as a state pen but he's no sheriff, it's not his jurisdiction. The kid cuffs them and hopes either never to see them again or to see them come back in better health, making better for themselves. Something.]

I don't figure.

[A shake of his head. He means he doesn't assume this shit even though it seems like it goes without saying. Freddy wouldn't dare say he might know even an ounce of what Larry's been through in there. Shit kicked out of him on the first day, he wonders which of the old man's scars belong to that moment in time. He's got more battle damage with good reason...or bad reason. The kid blows a couple rings, wishing he had the right thing to say.]

[What to say? No one wants to hear a guy crying about it. At least any guy born and raised in Larry's time. None of these new fangled therapy sessions were for men. It's the shit that no one talks about.]

It's kinda like the minute someone new comes on in they got to make em un-new.

[Shrug. Oops. There's a movie on, ain't it? He wishes he could shake off how ill thinking about it all makes him feel.]

S'not as bad comin' back but people still try to get the best of you.

[No one wants to hear a guy crying about it so thinks the guy who told another guy it's okay to be scared. How many times has Freddy Newendyke cried on Lawrence Dimick? Maybe the incidents are few and far between but he's seen Freddy at his soppiest wet tears.]

Hey, I don't want you sayin' anything cause you think they oughta be said but I'm listening and I don't forget.

[He leans in to look up at the old man as a courtesy just like how he remembers biking off the roof, fracturing his hand playing hockey, being a waterboy for a couple boxers, and an oaf called Truck the dog.]

[That was close to twenty years ago. Is it still justified to cry when it's that long ago?]

Freddy... [Larry's lips feel dry. Thinking over it all makes him feel like he doesn't belong on this couch in this room.] I didn't do many bad things then, bad on a bigger scale I mean. I fought like an animal but I had a cause. I fucked people who wanted to.

[Why is he saying it like that? Coffee hits his lips before more of the Chesterfield.]

Keep talkin'.

[He nods, blowing smoke to one side. Surely it goes without saying Larry should keep talking only if he wants to, right? The kid's listening, letting the words paint a picture of Lawrence Dimick 20 years ago, his first stint in prison. People making other people un-new. He hasn't forgotten how Larry reacted when he put his hands around his throat even if Freddy wasn't quite himself at the time either.]

Whatever it made of you, I like the guy I've got to know.

[This Lawrence Dimick, whether or not he's any different from the white meat who first walked into the joint.]

I was in my twenties. So...I got attention when I didn't want it. Think that was part of the reason why I got beat up so much. Pretty boy needs to take his hits, learn that no one's gonna help him but himself.

[Making him quicker to step toe to to from there.]

I got jumped [that's what he's calling it] in the shower about the first month in. He tried to take a few other goes at me. Didn't go quite as well as the first so.

[Deep inhale before exhaling upward.]

Got into more fights. See then though, if I lost to somebody else then I'd at least have had a chance.

[Feeling restless he stands up to take a quick few steps around.]

My favorite part of the whole damn day would be walking in the yard for just a little bit. I didn't like seeing movies there because shit happens in the dark.

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