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Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. © 2015 by Eric Trager. Yahoo group: https://groups.yahoo.com/IIWII
CHAPTER THREE
"OK, dad, I'm outta here!" Sean called. "I'm not taking the Equinox, I'm just gonna ride my bike – Andy lives so close and all..."
"Probably a good idea, son," Joe replied. "Hey, if you're going to be after midnight just give me a text then." Joe reasoned that Sean needed the ear of a friend his own age right now and he was OK with not holding Sean to an exact curfew – not tonight.
Sean retrieved his Trek 1 Series bike from the garage and set out on the mile long ride over to the Churchill home. Andy lived in a neat, oversized Cape Cod home on a corner lot that appeared to Sean as if it was probably custom-built sometime about 1970. It was on a street lined with other, similar homes suitable to folks recently breaking into the upper middle-class – the type of homes accountants, or small businessmen would own.
The ride over was uneventful, yet pretty in the early dusk hours of a Summer evening with a nice, cool breeze blowing in off Lake Michigan, and presently Sean found himself at the Churchill home. He put his bike in the garage, entering through the man door and carefully locking it up in front of one of the cars that was already there, making double sure that the overhead door was down. Even in a nice neighborhood, in this day and age there would be plenty of opportunities for a $700 bike to get stolen.
Sean went to the back door of the home and knocked with his favorite "shave and a haircut two bits" knock.
A few seconds later, Andy bounded out the basement door into the rear foyer, throwing the door open, saying, "Hey, man! C'mon in! Want something to drink? I got some cold PBR's in the fridge downstairs!"
"Thanks, And!" Sean replied, "I could use one or six right about now..."
The two boys retired into the basement of the home and headed for Andy's room
Andy had the entire finished basement to himself complete with a bedroom, full bathroom, and a large finished rec-room with TV, fuss ball table, and other amusements to keep teenage buys occupied. His two younger stepbrothers pretty much stayed upstairs although they were friendly, and from time-to-time would pop down to hang out with the older boys.
"So, what's up, Sean-o? You look like someone hit you in the face with a manhole cover!"
"Well, And, I'm gonna need a bag of weed and you know I got the cash. You know you never have to front me shit, but, yeah, my dad and I went to dinner tonight, and, well...I...uh...man, this is fucked!"
"What's up, man? Hey, you really do look like shit!" With that, Andy left the room and returned with two PBR 16-oounce cans. "Here ya go – drink up, dude, and let's talk!"
While Sean took a deep quaff of the classic PBR brew, Andy loaded up his favorite Gatling bong with four hits, proceeded to toke up one of them and then passed the bong and lighter over to Sean. "Look, man," Andy said, "if something crawled up your ass and died, I wanna hear about it. You're a good dude. You don't judge people like most guys do – you treat everyone the same. We've been friends for a long, time, Sean-o. I'll listen, OK?"
Sean toked up the second hit, held it in, and once blown out in a huge cloud looked straight at Andy. "OK, And, here's the deal... My dad texted me this morning and said we needed to talk. We went out for dinner tonight and I get this bomb dropped on me. He's got an offer for a new job, and it sounds great and all – we'd be rich - but if he takes it then we have to move to Janesville and like before school starts!"
"Holy shit, man!"
"I know, And! I mean, what the fuck am I gonna do? Dad said he didn't tell them yes, or no yet, but it has to be by next Friday and he wants me to go to Janesville, look for a house, and see the football coach! Sounds like a done deal to me, dunnit? I mean, what the fuck, man! What the fucking FUCK!" And with that Sean brought his fist down on the coffee table with a reverberating thud.
Andy was startled. He'd never seen his friend this way – ever. Sean Wyman, the terminally cool cucumber, was rattled.
"What am I supposed to do, And? I mean, here dad gets a job offer with a shitload of extra money, free cars and all this other shit, ya know? I mean, part of me says not to stand in his way, and the other part of me says everything and everyone I ever knew and everything I ever worked for would be gone – just like THAT," Sean snapped his fingers.
"Wow, man...I dunno what to say here. I'd miss you more than you know, dude." Sean could not help but notice Andy's pained expression, like a dagger thrust into his side. "You and I go back a long way, Sean-o. You're one of the good ones, for sure, man. I got an idea, though..."
"Whadya got, And?"
"OK, when are you supposed to go look for a house and see the football coach and shit?"
"Not sure – I am supposed to call them both to make an appointment. I told dad I would, so I guess I'll call tomorrow morning and then go down in the next couple days or so if the Real Estate person and the coach have times that match up..."
"OK, then you call me tomorrow morning afterwards when you know, and I'll go with you. I think it'd be better if you went with someone and not alone."
"I guess so. You'd do that? OK, I see what you're saying... I got a dinner card and a room in a bed and breakfast if we wanna stay over, and all. Are you down for it? I'll have to ask my dad if it's OK, but I don't see why not – he's known you for as long as I have, and everything."
"You betcha, man! I said if you needed a friend I'd be there. I'll always be there for ya, Sean-o!"
"OK, I mean, you know, it'd probably look better to their coach if I went with another guy from the team and all, but I can't let them know I might not be there in a month, and besides, I don't really know if I can talk to those guys about any of this without everything blowing up. I don't think they'd understand, especially that douche bag Braden!"
"Yeah, I think you're right."
"Thanks, And, I appreciate it. I was hoping that you'd at least listen. Thanks, man..."
"No prob, Sean-o."
"One thing, And – you can't tell anyone about this. Nobody, OK?"
"Look, Sean-o, I depend on everyone else to keep quiet so I don't get busted for dealing. I think I can keep a secret, dude..." Andy retorted.
"Yeah. That was dumb of me to put it that way, huh..."
"No worries, bro. Hey, want another beer?"
"Sure. Thanks."
Andy and Sean spent the rest of the evening playing Cribbage, chatting about nothing in particular, doing a few more bong hits, and acting as if there was nothing unusual going on in the world at all.
A few times during the evening, some other kids from the school came by to score a bag, but as usually happens none of them stayed longer than needed to complete the transaction. One was John Berrifield who bought for Braden and his gang. Along the way, Andy measured out a half ounce of his best weed for Sean and when it was time to pay, Andy let Sean know that this one was wholesale without his usual markup.
Andy could see his friend was hurting, and although they were sometimes these days in different circles, if these two young men had one thing in common it was decency. Andy was too good a businessman to sell something for nothing, but he genuinely felt for his old friend and offered the hand of support. Sean was happy to grasp that hand – at least he wouldn't have to process the situation totally alone, and he trusted Andy's level-headedness.
Presently, Sean noticed that the time was 11:52 p.m. "Hey, I better go, And. I gotta make those calls tomorrow morning. Ya know, here's what I'll do – I'll make the calls, then I'll text ya, and maybe we can go grab a bite, or something and I can letcha know what the deal is at that point. Cool?"
"Sure, dude – works for me!"
"Hey, you gotta walk me out – I left my bike in the garage and I think you're gonna hafta unlock the door."
"Yeah, OK, finish up your beer and let's go!"
"OK, down the hatch!"
The two boys ascended the basement stairs and left out the back door of the house. Andy pushed the buttons on the overhead door so that Sean could get his bike out, which lit up the inside of the garage so that Sean could dial the combination on his lock and release the bike.
Sean looked at Andy for a moment, and said, "And, man, thanks for tonight – I came over here felling like crap and now at least I feel a little better and I know I don't have to face this alone. Thanks, man..."
"Like I said, Sean-o, we go way back, man. I'll always be there for ya. Always."
With that, Andy extended his hand for Sean to shake. Sean shook his friend's hand and at that exact moment broke down in tears.
"I dunno, And! I dunno, man! This sucks! I dunno what to do – I just DON'T KNOW! I feel like I don't have any control over this!"
Andy felt a wave of sorrow sweep over him. Here before of him was his friend of many years, one of the most stand-up guys he knew. Here before him was the starting Quarterback of his school's varsity football team. Here before him was an almost straight-A student. Here before him was a guy that with all the foregoing star qualities treated everyone who crossed his path with kindness and respect. And here before him was that same young man maybe about to have everything he ever knew in life ripped away from him for the second time in four years.
Andy instinctively wanted to comfort his friend, and pulled him into a hug. He hugged Sean in a non-sexual "bro-hug" but at the same time rubbed his back with one hand, letting him know, "Sean-o, whatever happens, it'll be OK. You're a good man. I'm always here for ya, dude."
Just at that moment, Sean looked at Andy, and Andy looked at Sean. Their eyes met, and Sean hugged Andy back – tightly.
Both young men looked eye-to-eye in the 60-watt light of Andy's garage, saying nothing, but at the same time nothing said it all.
They hugged tight, their faces coming ever closer, and just at that instant – it was not Sean and it was not Andy – their lips met. Neither boy thought, or cared. An electric shock passed between them. At once, it was a kiss of friendship, of respect, and affection. At that moment they needed each other, perhaps for different reasons, and perhaps they didn't even really know the reasons themselves.
At length, their kiss released and they stood hugging each other. They put their heads on each other's shoulders and stood momentarily.
"Wow, man!" Sean started out, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to...I just...you...I mean... I didn't..."
"Sean-o, it is what it is. Don't give it a second thought."
"Well...OK, man," Sean half chuckled, half sniffled. "Call ya tomorrow then?"
"You betcha. I'll have my phone with me!"
"OK, niters, man! And thanks again..."
"Niters!"
Andy headed back into the house and Sean swung his leg over the frame of the Trek, put foot to pedal and headed down the driveway, turning into the street headed home. About a half-block, or so, down the street he thought he heard a car engine start up behind him, and sure enough a car was pulling out from the curb with glaring headlights.
Momentarily blinded, Sean couldn't make out what kind of a car it was other than it appeared to be a newer compact size car – it was a bit unusual at that hour in that neighborhood to see a car pulling out to go somewhere. After about ten, or fifteen seconds, the car passed him by, it wasn't a car he recognized, anyway, so he made no note of it.
Ten minutes later, Sean pulled up in front of his own house, reached into his pocket for his key fob, opened the garage door and locked up his bike. He closed the garage door with the interior keypad thus arming the system giving him 60 seconds to enter the house and lock the door, which he did with his iPhone app thus ensuring system feedback letting him know that the security system was fully operational and armed.
It had been a long day, and as Sean climbed the stairs to his room, he felt suddenly exhausted and with a great need for sleep. Once in his room, he stripped off, and got under the covers surrendering to a sleep that was more restful that one might think with all that lay ahead of him.
Once asleep, a strange yet peaceful dream came over Sean. He saw himself up in a tree overlooking a river below, and across the river he could see some kind of odd machinery spinning in motion. He wanted to fall into the river, but dared not to as he could see the water's currents and it looked like it might be unsafe. Presently, in his dream, Sean realized that it was only a dream and so let go of the tree and fell into the water.
Oddly, the water was not cold, but rather pleasant in temperature. He flowed ever downstream passing the riverbanks and the people on the banks. No one seemed to notice him until he came upon an old, stone bridge where a pole dangled down and there was a person urging Sean to grab the pole and come unto the bridge. Again, realizing it was only a dream, Sean grasped the pole and without effort was swung up onto the bridge. Among the people standing on the bridge were Danny, the waiter from the restaurant, who had been the one to fish Sean out of the water with the pole, and off in the distance Sean could see Andy quietly looking off at an angle seeming not to notice that Sean was there, but when Andy did notice, he walked over in an instant.
"And, where are we? What are you doing here, and why did Danny fish me out of the water?"
"We came to visit you, Sean-o! We got here faster than you did!"
None of this made any sense at all to Sean, who woke up out of his dream in a fog, taking a minute or two to realize he was still in his own home, in his own bed, warm and dry. For what seemed like 15-20 minutes Sean relived the strange dream, sifting through it moment by moment trying to divine what, if any, meaning it had.
Sean glanced over at his alarm clock. It read 2:32 a.m. He had a hard time falling back to sleep after his dream and the sleep he got for the rest of the night was fitful. The next morning, feeling unusually unrested, he skipped his usual run, went to the kitchen hoping that a cup of strong coffee would shake the cobwebs out before he did what he dreaded, but knew he had to do: call the Realtor and the Coach.
END CHAPTER THREEE