Chapter Ten

As everyday had been, as they had always been before that horrible Wednesday morning, growing shorter due to the area inching ever closer and closer towards winter. Fuzzy movements and going past in their own weird paces. Each time Nate ventured to look up at a clock on a wall, at any clock for that matter, it was later than it should have been. And far later than it should have felt.

“Hey, buddy? You alright?” John ventured to ask. Nate just nodded in silence.

It had been a few days since June had passed away, painlessly so in her sleep. It was more peaceful than most people were able to get for themselves out of this life, at least that’s what Nate had rationed to himself. Small favors were the trick to bargaining. Made it all feel more real than it didn’t.

“Okay. Come on. Let’s get some food in you,” John’s stomach rumbled as they both walked away from his car. And towards the chain restaurant that Nate was unfamiliar with.

“I’m not hungry,” Nate explained to no success. His voice sounded different to him, foreign and unused. Nearly alien in nature.

John rolled his eyes, “Look, it’s not always about you. Now come on, get in, and get some food with me. I’m terribly shy and hate to eat all alone in restaurants by myself. Afraid I’ll look like a psycho creep. Eating alone and scaring the other patrons of this fine and remote establishment. You know that I have my own insecurities to worry about too.”

“You bring snacks with you wherever you go.”

Looking inside the restaurant they didn’t seem busy just yet, Nate noted. It was still early in the morning; despite the late start there was time for business to pick up for lunch. Life was funny that way sometimes. You can set your watch by the little things, if you know where to look for them.

“You never know when you might find some hot chicks that need some food. Alright? Everyone gets hungry, Nate. Not just us, big strong and stoic men. Hot chicks gotta eat too. And are you gonna feed them? Huh, Nate? Are you?” John held the door open for Nate, and the next person. And the next three people that followed shortly after them into the diner. It was simply the way of things with the small population of young people that waited their natural turn, and the old people that poured into and out of places like the water in a levy. Always rushing around either way before the door closed in front of them. Like goldfish fighting to get fed small flakes of food.

It was a small restaurant; part of a chain that Nate had though he’d heard of at some point. Though like with most things, he’d never tried to go there. The number at the end of the name made him suspicious of their quality control. And that it was most likely a gimmick they had thought up to seem more successful than they really had been. Seriously, he had explained all to John before, sometime in the distant past. Who numbers their restaurants, who even takes the time to think of doing that? And John had calmly explained in retaliation, “Places with great food.”

Nate waited inside for John, letting the others that came in trickle ahead of him. Newcomers, old in age and in quality, got the next available table or booth without a struggle. He didn’t notice which they had gone with, but it didn’t matter anyways. His preference had always been a booth, even if the seat ended up being torn to all hell. Anything was better than sitting at a rickety table, your back to the world, and you, balancing precariously above it.

“Okay, lesson learned. I need to stop holding doors for people,” John mumbled in indifferent aggravation. And I assure you this contradiction is something found in the wild of a town such as theirs. “Just the two of us. A booth is fine. Thank you.” They both followed after the waitress, who looked more than unhappy to be there than the old people did to pay for their reasonably priced food.

They took their seats in the corner booth, the one nearest the wide corner windows that were overlooking the road and parking lot outside. A light rain was drizzling and had been drifting in and out of this part of town all morning. It would pass soon enough, as it always did. Afterwards everything would become muggy again, and warm, humidly so, for the rest of the afternoon. Then it might rain again later on in the evening or night. Though only for a few minutes or so, and that would be that for the day.

“So, like I was saying. Those people sucked; the lady bumped into me as she passed by. Didn’t say ‘thank you’ or anything. Shot me a dirty look and everything. I’d bet anything that they’re lousy tippers too. Oh, a water for me. With a lemon, please.”

“Pepsi, please.” Nate said.

“We only have coke products here. Sorry,” the waitress quickly explained. She seemed a bit flustered from the beginning morning rush, which to Nate was not a good sign.

“That’s fine, thank you.”

The waitress walked off, her footsteps echoed across the tiled floor, leaving them to both look over the menu as they waited. Half of it was made up of pictures, the other half was oversized fonts explaining the history and pricing of the drink menu.

“Anything look good?” John asked over the top of his menu.

Nate grunted and shrugged. “I’m thinking either a turkey sandwich, or, just an order of fries and wings. I’m not really hungry either way.”

“Probably not going to finish, huh? Want to split something? A turkey sandwich sounds pretty good right about now. That, and a nap. I could use one of those more than anything else in the world right, about now.”

A few seconds passed in silence before, “Have you decided?”, the waitress suddenly appearing beside them asked. She had a pad, pen, and an exhausted expression waiting just for them. “Or do you both need some more time to decide?”

“I think so. We’re going to split the turkey sandwich, and an extra order of fries, please. Thank you.”

After she had left them to put the order in John said, “I’d be a moron to ask how you’re holding up. But, are you okay? Probably safe enough to ask you that.”

Nate looked out the window, watching the cars pass by along the road, each sprayed by the soft drizzle of rain and splashing puddles as they went on. “Yeah. I think so. In a, my aunt just died, kind of way,” he laughed a little more than he felt he should have. And that that was in itself, okay too. “It’s just going to suck for a very, very long time is all. I’ll be okay. How you holding up?”

“Me?” John obviously taken aback, was surprised at the audacity of the question itself, “Yeah, I’m good. Things are going good with, uh, what’s her name. Damnit, tip of the tongue. Anyways, works been okay. Boss apparently didn’t need my overachieving ass for once. So, there’s that! Nothing to worry about on my end. Besides the other night, I’d say it’s been a good week. You know what I mean? At least I hope you do.” John rubbed his hands together to warm them up.

“Cold?” Nate pointed at John’s hands.

“What? Yeah, no, just chilly in here. That’s all. I’m thinking you were on to something with your iron deficiency nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” Nate exclaimed. “Iron increases oxygen in your bloodstream, helping your body process faster and more efficiently. I.E., more iron more blood flow, to more warmth. What is such nonsense about it?”

“If you say so. Still makes you sound like a hippy. Oh, foods here. Thank you, ma’am.”

“I’ll be right back with your fries in just a moment,” the waitress told them before quickly vanishing again. She didn’t appear as frazzled as she had when they ordered their drinks.

John separated half of the sandwich onto a second plate the waitress had brought them and pushed it forward. “Dumb question. And I know you probably don’t know yet. But do you know where the funeral is going to be held at?”

Nate nodded, and bit into his sandwich. The waitress dropped the fries off and left to help another table. Nate drank some water before explaining, “The memorial park cemetery, off 75. I just need to go and talk with them to set up the date, probably in a week or so. She had everything already paid for and organized. All that was left was for her to, well, pass on.”

“That’s good,” John said before he started eating, “Not the passing on. But, just let me know. I mean, I know you obviously, look, just let me know. Please.”

Nate nodded, he knew he would end up letting John know as soon as he knew anything.
If not first, then soon enough to first to not really matter. He continued watching the road, letting his mind wander from one useless thought to another useless thought. Dancing around something that scratched and clawed at the edge of his mind, just on the cusp, something he had dreamed of. Something that had bothered him. Something that was continuously bothering him.

When they were back on the road again, Nate asked, “You ever take stock in dreams, John?”

John was silent. He remained focused on the road and trying to merge onto the highway, then in passing a semitruck and a minivan to get into the middle lane. Once they were again at a cruising speed he appeared to snap back out of his focus. “Sorry, man. One more time. Dreams?”

“Do you take stock in them?”

John scrunched his eyes, never letting them leave the road, “Stock? Like, investing? What are you even-oh, oh shoot. You meant do I invest in. Okay, sorry. I’m an idiot is all. And kind of. Depends on how intense the dream is, I guess. I don’t usually remember my dreams, not very well anyways. Just the color black or walking around high school sometimes. Any idea what that would mean?”, he waited for a response, Nate was silent so he continued to fill the muted pause, “I’ve been dreaming of Ms. Cowan’s class for like, what, fifteen years now. I’m the same as I am now. Yet, somehow a kid again? It’s dumb. Not even a bad day or anything like that, just a normal school day. I’m just sitting there waiting to go home and watch tv or something. Just drawing tanks and swords on my old notebook. Then class is over and I’m rushing home. Such a stupid dream. I always wake up either when I get on that stupid school bus or…you know, I never remember when I wake up, now that I think about it. But it’s just a silly dream is all. At least, I think it is.”

“Maybe you just can’t let things go?” Nate murmured.

“What?” John chuckled. “You lecturing me on letting things go now?”

“Yeah. Maybe I am.”

“You?”

“Yeah. You need to let stuff go. Ms. Cowan probably doesn’t even remember you. Or the paper airplanes you threw at her plants. The monsteras in the corner.”

“See, see!” John pointed a finger at Nate. “That, that right there is what I’m talking about. That is the kind of stuff you need to learn to let go off, man! I don’t even remember that, like at all. And I loved making those planes. Holy crap, she would get so mad at me for doing it too. She’d crush the planes before dunking them in the trash can next to her desk.. Christ. I haven’t thought of that in years. How do you remember that? I didn’t even remember that. And I was there too.”

“I really don’t know, John. It’s not like I’ve been dwelling on it or anything. You just did that all the time and I remembered it is all.” Nate looked off at a small beat-up truck that raced ahead of them in the passing lane. There was a ladder strapped down in the back of the tail bed with multicolored bungie cords, the wind whipping the flag tied to the end of the ladder all around in frantic surrender. Nate smiled. “Looks like the Dodge is surrendering to us.”

“If only that were true. Jerk has been racing up on us for the last two exits. Okay, okay, I see you. Yes, you can go. Just go. There you go, you got this. Sheesh, this guy.” John shook his head in a display of pure disappointment in his fellow man. “Oh, thank you by the way.”

“For what, now?”

“Going along with me. Been putting this off for a bit, and the company helps. Thank you.”

Nate scoffed and shook his head, “If you say so.” A small smile twisted itself onto his face. John peculiar was of doing things. A silly particular way if anything else. When someone was sad, upset, whatever have you be the reason, then John would have them tag along to help out with something. Food was normally involved, or visiting his family, once it was to help move something out of a storage unit. Today’s excuse was to pay a bill at the bank. Something was off about it though, so Nate kept quiet. He knew John would eventually tell him what the real favor was. Only a matter of time. All he needed to do was wait. Wait and be patient.

“Okay. You know how I said we were going to the bank?” John opened up with, before turning and avoiding Nate’s blank stare. “I lied.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. So. Instead of that, we are going to a job site and wrapping up some things I need to get finished. Should only take a few hours altogether. I needed the extra set of hands.” John lowered his head and continued avoiding Nate’s blank judging stare. “I’m, I’m sorry for lying.”

Nate sighed, “It’s fine.” He paused. “So, what are we actually doing again. You didn’t actually say other than you needed me for my hands.”

John grinned, pleased at the prospect of being forgiven so quickly, “We, my favorite friend-”

“Only,” Nate interrupted.

“-are going to finish work on a bridge.” John continued, ignoring the interruption. “I just need your help setting up a few boards to cut for the railing. You’ll love it. We finished the rest of it up already. Like I said it should only take a few hours, at the most.”

“Am I being paid for this?”

“Naturally. Didn’t thing I would only pay you with food, did you? A hundred bucks for your time should suffice.”

“Uh huh. If you’d just asked I would have done it for free.” Nate pointed this out as John parked the car near the construction gates, easily blocking the last bit of the sidewalk. The entire roadway alongside the sidewalks was blocked off with tall metal fences. Hastily put up to prevent any pedestrian foot traffic from coming onto the very obvious worksite. Without the gates in place people would walk on-site, and it next to never ended well for anyone when that happened. Or so Nate had been told. He’d also been told that it tended to happen quite often, with people using the excuse of not knowing that they had wandered into a jobsite with chain link fences, countless signs, or the slew of workers with hardhats that they had unsuccessfully avoided. Some civilians were just funny like that it sounded.

John had snuck Nate there before, to help him offload some lumber for a project that Nate had yet to see in its completed state. Though that had been some time ago. The site was nearing the final stages of completion after the past few months of hard work that was being done; there was still a lot to be finished. The playground in the corner was missing a side railing and some sort of flooring around the slides and stairs. There was a sort of concrete stage on the other side of the park. Overhead of the stage was a large skeletal structure, comprised of metal and wiring that looked more like a broken spiderweb than a near finished concert stage that the public was going to use in the near future. But all of this went to show Nate that a lot can happen when people work together on something.

“Oh, you’re no fun. I’d have paid you even if I did ask for your expertise in holding wood in your hands. I know what I said! Besides, I brought fishing poles and beer.” John shrugged at Nate’s blank expression. His nonchalant demeanor shocked Nate more than beer at what was technically John’s workplace.

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Nate asked, dragging the gate closed behind them.

“Nah,” John twirled around in a circle. “No one is here. Construction doesn’t continue for another few days. Lucky pricks getting the holidays off, or whatever. Plus, I asked my foreman what he thought, and he was alright with it. So, you’re all good in this here neighborhood. If any cops show up though, we just need to remind them that this is private property. And that we are allowed to be here, whereas they, are not. So, just be cool, man. Just, come on, for once. For me. Please. Be cool. For once. Please. Please!”

“Whatever, man. You can be such a weirdo sometimes.” Nate followed John across the messy construction site, avoiding piles of lumber, wire, and potted plants, all of which were unseen from the roadside, and towards a bridge that spanned across a small islet of water surrounded entirely in mangroves. The bridge in question was one of the projects John’s company had been commissioned to work on. Other than the wood being kebony wood, the worst wood ever made as John had delicately explained it, the project wasn’t so bad. The wood smelled liked caked ash whenever it was cut apart or sanded. Otherwise, the bridge looked good, it had turned out great. John did good work, which did not surprise Nate at all. John was always full of surprises like this. It never seemed to hurt his case that if he dedicated himself to something then he would, eventually, become rather proficient at it.

John had explained before to Nate, months ago when the construction on the park area had started, that the city had deemed that whatever was once in this area had to be torn down and rebuilt into some sort of playground, community park, nature reserve walkway place. Nate didn’t see the point, and neither could John. The city had raised the money, and the checks cashed so here the construction companies and private contractors were. Doing the lord’s work as John put it. Though he was careful not to word it that way in front of anyone with real religious beliefs.

“Alright, grab that end there and put it on this stand. I just need you to hold the end of it level as I cut it. Once it passes the end of the saw, go to the other side and do the same thing. We only need to do this for that stack over there.”

“All of them getting the same cut?” Nate looked over the bridge. Most of the lumber was in organized stacks, with a few loose boards on top. The railing was all that was really left, that and the joint pieces around the corners it looked like. “The curve isn’t the same angle, is it?”

“Very astute, my dear Watson. You are right. True and correct. I need to adjust the angle as we go. The curve of the bridge isn’t even, if only it was. I’ll only need help lining up the pieces after they’re cut, and dry fit them into place with a few screws. Make my marks, and cut the next one and repeat. Pretty easy peasey and all that. That’s why I brought the fishing poles after all.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” Nate saw more than a few fish floating by in the water. They’d passed under the bridge and were now drifting further inland towards the mangroves that lined the sides of the inlet. Some birds were hanging out along the branches. Picking at their feathers as they watched the water intently.

Between cuts and measurements, Nate took a few pictures of everything with his phone. He’d scroll through them and show them to John as he measured for the next cut. Nate wasn’t much of a photographer, but the setting made taking good picture easy to accomplish.

John nodded and scrolled back a few pictures, “I really like the little sand crabs in this one here. That and the crane. Where was he at?”

Nate pointed off towards the right side of the bridge, “He’s right over there. You can kind of see him from here. See him? Yeah. That’s him over there. Pretty cool place. Lot of animals here.”

“I still disagree with the city about building this here. There are places a little further up the coast that would work just as well, if not better. But this is a pretty spot. I’m sure it’ll bring in some decent foot traffic for the city.” John added screws to the last board and marked the top of it with an ‘X’.

“Going to erase that when you’re done?”, Nate asked, pointing at the marks.

“Nope. Even easier than that. Going to go over the whole thing with the sander and take all that right off. Smooth the whole thing right out.” John made some chainsaw noises and pantomimed sanding the railing, making Nate scoff, amused. “After that. And the corner pieces over on that joint there, the whole thing will be done. Two and a half weeks cooking out here in the sun. Tanning like a ham. For what? Ah hell.” John rubbed his nose.

“It looks good,” Nate told him. And it did.

“It better. This wood sucks. Its heat treated or something. That’s why it has that horrible ash smell instead of the usual saw dust smell. And it’s just plain gross. Otherwise, this was a fun project.” John paused, before adding with sincerity, “Thank you for coming and helping me Nate. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. So, you going to fish with me or what? Because nothing here is biting. You have any bait with you?”

“Hold on a second. I think we have some bread in the cooler. And ahah! Alright, try some of this. No promises but it may work. We had a guy use a little dab of caulking a while back. And would you not believe it. The madman was right, it worked. Fish went to it like nothing.”

“What color caulking was it?” Nate asked as he cast the bread out into the water.

“Would you believe me if I told you, it was black?” John asked.

“I’d call you a liar if it wasn’t.”

Chapter Ten

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