Chris Ch. 05

Chris stared at the number with the spatula in his hand.

What...I...How odd.

His first thought was that Alex had definitely not written her number on the container. The sloppy handwriting, the poorly drawn heart and the fact that it was there at all pointed to the fact that someone else had scribbled it on there.

So this is a joke or something?

He opened the container and pulled out the food to be reheated. Simply tossing the patty and the potatoes into the pan together. The bun was too soggy for his taste and went to Freckles who happily ate it in a flash.

He stirred the sizzling food absentmindedly and kept glancing at the number.

What if she did write it there? Should I text her or something?

He mulled over the problem as he cooked and then thought about it some more while he ate.

His mind kept going in circles and when he finally was in bed and ready to sleep he'd made no progress on what to do.

He wanted it to be her number and he wanted her to have intended him to get it but his gut told him she hadn't written it there and that rubbed him the wrong way.

He briefly considered that maybe Katy the server had done it but that also didn't feel quite correct. Josh however, fit the bill a bit better.

He was buzzing if not drunk and had the kind of meddlesome energy to do something like this. But if that were the case the thing to do would be to simply throw it away and forget about it.

He looked over in the dim moonlight at the small table where the empty container still sat.

Then why haven't I done it yet?

The answer was simple, he wanted to text her, he wanted to know her better and to see her again but if she wasn't open to that he would respect her wishes.

This is a tomorrow morning problem, not a tonight problem. He thought as he rolled away from the phone number.

Sleep was slow to take him.

The next morning he forcibly kept his eyes away from the styrofoam that had plagued his thoughts the night before and went for a longer than normal run on the old logging road he had parked on.

Several hours later he returned with a much clearer head and made breakfast.

He'd made a decision on what to do.

On his run he had decided to text the number, confirm it was indeed Alex's and then let her know that someone had given it out. If she told him to stop he would and he would offer the option to her as soon as he confirmed it was her.

The plan felt right to him but he also knew himself well enough to realize that it was all just an excuse to try and talk to her more. But that didn't stop him from doing it anyway.

He also recognized the need for closure on this, he had tried and failed to stop thinking about her since that night and maybe texting her would provide the closure he thought he needed.

He took a calming breath and picked up his phone, only to realize he had no service.

He sat down and drafted the text anyway.

-Hey, is this Alex's phone?

This is Chris, someone left your number on my

to-go box from Lone Pine Brewery.

Thought you'd want to know.

He stared at it and reread it several times. It was sufficiently brief, to the point and not overly forward so he hit send. Predictably the message failed but when his phone came back into service it would send it on its own.

He blew out a breath, suddenly nervous and relieved at the same time at having made the decision.

"Alright Frecks, time for a little more work and then we'll be outta here."

She tiredly wagged her tail at him and cracked an eye at his words.

Work was slow, the projects he'd downloaded for situations like this were the ones he always put off and had put off for a reason so the minutes seemed to crawl by as he pecked at his keyboard in the shade of the awning. He still lost himself in the work though, getting into a flow and slowly chipping away at the work was oddly satisfying in its own way.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out without thinking about it much, assuming it was a work text or email so when he saw it was from Alex his heart started racing.

There must be intermittent service out here. Crap.

He opened the text and read it over quickly.

-Hey Chris.

Thanks for letting me know.

It was Josh. The little shit.

If you don't mind, please delete my number.

He'll be getting a talking to about this

as this was not ok.

Hope you and Freckles are doing alright.

He read then reread the words and his heart fell at what they said.

Most of him had expected something along these lines to happen but a small part of him had hoped it wouldn't.

Still, she had every right to ask him to do that and he was obligated to comply. He was grateful she had responded at all instead of simply just ignoring him and blocking his number.

-Hey yeah, no problem, I totally understand.

Freckles and I are fine,

happy to be back on the road.

Deleting it now.

Bye Alex.

He sent it before he could second guess himself and then deleted her number from his phone as well.

Part of him wanted to keep her number but he knew if he did that he might be tempted to try again so he deleted it and trashed the box at the same time.

As he sat down to work once more his phone buzzed on the folding table.

-Thanks.

Was all that could be read.

He dutifully deleted the text and the number once more and indulged in a heavy sigh while staring at his blank laptop.

"This sucks." He declared.

"This sucks and I don't want to work on this dumb project anymore." He told no one in particular as he closed his computer.

"Come on Frecks, let's go. I suddenly want a donut and some coffee." He said and quickly packed up his things.

Two hours later Chris was wiping sprinkles from his face and sipping coffee while they drove down the highway.

The donut was decent and the coffee was a gas station special, it tasted like they'd never cleaned the machine and could probably peel the paint off a car door. It fit his mood perfectly.

He wrestled with his sour mood as the miles ticked away. He knew he'd done the right thing and he knew this was the closure he needed to move on but that didn't make it any easier.

It'll just take time. That's all.

Two more days went by and his mood had improved somewhat, getting back into his routine was centering and working on some of the more exciting projects helped as well. She still lingered in his mind occasionally but the memories were fading and Chris was grateful for it.

Finally moving on, sheesh. Only met her the one time, no idea why I was so hung up on her.

He thought as he pulled up to a run down looking house.

Weeds grew tall in the front and a car sat with at least one flat tire under a tree. Shingles were coming loose on the roof, exposing the tar paper underneath and screens hung in tatters from some of the windows.

Sunbleached lawn furniture sat amongst the weeds and trash littered the property liberally. Mostly empty beer cans.

Chris sighed.

Fuck, Johnsons. You shit.

Chris put his van in park and stepped out while looking up and down the street.

Quite a few of the houses were in similar, if slightly better shape than the one before him but the number was less than half. Most were well landscaped and more than a few had children's toys scattered all over the lawn.

Chirs's eyebrows drew down.

He let Freckles out but pointed at the ground by his side immediately.

"Here." He said.

He locked his van and walked to the front door, which he unceremoniously pounded on with a closed fist.

The screen door fell off under the onslaught but Chris just set it aside. It had been barely hanging on anyway.

A full minute went by and Chris grew angrier and angrier by the second.

Johnsons was one of those guys that had joined up because he had no other options, he'd used the military as a way to escape the shitty life he had before and had done very well.

He'd excelled in the military and ended up in the same unit as Chris for a number of years.

Back then he'd come off as an arrogant, good looking prick with the skill and drive to back it up.

Chris had taken the rookie under his wing when he'd first been assigned to his squad and he'd quickly become one of his go to guys to get things done.

He was leading his own squad in almost no time at all.

But to see where the man was living now, it enraged Chris. It was unacceptable.

He pounded on the door again.

"Johnsons! Get your ass out here!" He nearly bellowed.

Freckles just fidgeted at his feet. Anger was not something that came easily to Chris but the situation before him drove Chris straight into a frustrated haze.

Finally there was movement from the other side of the door, what sounded like beer cans being pushed around preceded the peephole going dark.

"Bailey?" A confused voice said through the door before it opened.

Johnsons stood there with his mouth slack.

Red eyes were wide in shock. He wore a dirty white shirt and a pair of loose pajama pants that were stained and baggy.

He'd put on considerable weight since Chris had last seen him and he smelled of cigarettes and alcohol.

A scraggly beard covered his chin and neck and long greasy hair hung over his ears.

"Fuck Johnsons." Was all Chris could manage before he rushed forward and hugged him.

The man before him was a pale shadow of what he once was and actually seeing him having fallen so far evaporated his anger in a heartbeat. To Chris it was obvious the man was struggling.

Johnsons went stiff at Chris' sudden hug but then tentatively hugged him back.

Chris ignored the unwashed man's odor and squeezed him once more before letting go and stepping away.

"I... Uh. Hey Bailey. What're you doing here?" He said, clearly unsure of what to do.

"I was nearby and wanted to see you, I text you a couple days ago but never heard back." Chris said with a shrug.

"Oh yeah. My phone got canceled. Don't have one anymore." He said sheepishly.

"Why don't you come on in I guess." He said hesitantly and then gestured inside.

Chris just nodded and went in, Freckles right on his heels.

Inside was even worse, it was like a scene from those shows about people that never threw anything away. Beer cans dominated the house, piled on every surface and waist high in some corners. There were cans that had been cut in half placed throughout the mess that were full of ashes and cigarette butts and several on the floor that had obviously fallen and been left there to track ash across the stained carpet.

Chris sighed and ignored his watering eyes, the smell was horrible. One part spoiled beer, one part stale cigarette smoke and another part unwashed body odor. It was atrocious.

He looked around and then looked at his friend. He at least looked embarrassed and uncomfortable at the state of his home.

"What the hell happened?" Chris said, there was no heat to the question, no pity either. Only concern for one of his oldest friends.

"I...I don't really know." He said. "I just...I can't..." He did a strange hiccupping sigh and put his hands to his face.

"I tried, I really did." He said, clearly holding back tears now.

"At first it was easy, I was gonna find a wife and start a family but the nightmares." He took a shuddering breath and dropped his hands. His face was full of despair and tears were falling from his face.

"Fuck Bailey, I can't make them stop." He started pacing, mindlessly kicking empty cans out of his path with his bare feet.

"Night makes it worse so I started sleeping during the day, then I lost my job and then I started falling behind on bills." The words poured from him and his eyes were wide while he paced.

"Hell, I only have a month's left worth of savings." He said as he flopped down onto a grimy couch.

"I was just gonna let them evict me I guess, I didn't really have a plan." He mumbled, leaning to one side and pulling a few cans from under him and tossing them onto the floor absentmindedly before slumping further into the couch.

Chris nodded along, he knew what Johnsons was talking about. He had nightmares himself sometimes but it sounded like his comrades were affecting him far more than his own ever did.

"Get up." Chris said, gesturing for the man to stand.

"Get up, and go take a shower." Chris said, careful to keep his town even but firm.

"You shower, I gotta make some calls."

Johnsons looked at him questioningly and remained seated.

"I don't want any therapists or like some fuckin intervention shit." He said, his eyebrows drawing down.

"Fuck that, you're not there yet. I'm gonna call a rental place and rent a trailer, fuckhead." Chris said with a laugh.

"First thing we're doing is cleaning all this crap up." He said, sweeping his arm around the living room.

"You're sitting on a fortune! Aluminum is at a premium right now." Chris smiled.

"Now, go shower. Be ready to work your ass off when you come out." He pointed at Johnsons who looked at him questioningly.

"No interventions. Scouts honor or whatever." Chris added seriously.

Finally the scruffy man hesitantly stood and walked to the hall.

When he heard the shower turn on he pulled out his phone.

A quick internet search got him the name of a rental place and by the time the shower had turned back off he had lined up a high sided flatbed to haul behind his van as well as a carpet cleaning machine.

Johnsons emerged looking much better, he had shaved his scraggly beard off and had buzzed his head as well. He was wearing cleaner clothes and overall just looked better.

"Let's go, we need dinner and to go pick up the trailer." Chris said, not letting Johnsosns even sit down.

He nodded his head slowly and looked a little lost.

"I don't know where my fucking shoes are." He mumbled and then did a strange laugh that turned to a sob.

"Fuck, I'm a mess." He said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Yeah, you are but it's temporary. Now knock off the pity party and let's go." Chris said, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Johnsons sniffed. "Yeah you're right. Just temporary." He said, his words firming up as he spoke them.

After a brief search they found some well worn flip flops he could wear buried under a pile of trash by the door and then they were off to run errands.

Two hours later Chris balanced the pizza boxes in one hand while closing the van door with the other.

The empty trailer sat backed up to the garage and Johnsons was pulling grocery bags from the back of the van.

They'd stopped by the local supermarket and bought cleaning supplies as well as some basic groceries. The carpet cleaner they'd pick up tomorrow afternoon, hopefully after the floors were mostly cleared of trash.

Johnsnons fumbled with his keys and his armloads of grocery bags but eventually got the door open. Chris braced himself for the terrible smells once more and followed his friend into the home.

"Fuck, is that really what my house smells like?" Johnsons said with a frown.

"Like ass, smoke and sour beer?" Chris said, ignoring the smell as best he could. "Yeah, pretty much." He said with a grin, trying to keep the mood light.

"It's temporary. Remember?" Chris tried when the man failed to shake off the frown.

"Let's eat and then we can start getting the trash outta here." Chris said, walking to the back door.

"No offense but let's eat outside." Chris added and kicked cans out of the way so he could open the backdoor.

Johnson's followed but was still frowning as he looked around his home like he was seeing the mess for the first time.

Chris set the pizza boxes down on the sunbleached patio furniture and pulled an old cinder block over to sit on as he didn't trust the frail looking chairs to hold his weight. He pulled a piece of pizza out to eat while Freckles went and explored the tall weeds that were taking over the backyard.

Johnsons came slowly out of the door, looking more and more bewildered.

"How...How did it get this bad?" He said, flipping an empty five gallon bucket over and sitting on it by the table.

"It's like, I didn't realize how bad it was until just now." He said, his eyes roaming the overgrown backyard.

"It happens. We'll make it right. Now you'd better eat because we got a lot of shit to do." Chris said around a mouthful of pizza.

Johnsons just nodded and pulled a piece out himself.

They ate in silence. Occasionally Johnons' brow would draw down and his chewing would slow only to pick back up again as he worked through whatever was bothering him. Chris let the silence hang, it was obvious the man needed some time to think.

"Alright!" Chris said as he closed the pizza box. "Let's get to it!" He said with enthusiasm.

"Yeah. Yeah! It'll be good." Johnsnons said, gaining steam with each word. "What's first?"

"I was thinking we put all the cans in bags first, then get to the stuff that's just garbage. That we can just throw into the trailer and tarp it before we go anywhere." Chris said, feeding another pizza crust to Freckles which she happily snapped up.

"We can take all the trash to the dump tomorrow and then come back for the cans to take to the recycle place."

"Uh. sure? That'll work yeah." Johnons said, still sounding a little lost.

"Good! You get the big trash can we just bought and I'll start on the cans." Chris checked the time on his phone.

"We'll work for a couple hours and then call it." He smiled widely at Johnsons. "Then tomorrow, you and I are going for a run." He said with probably too much glee.

"No! What? No!" Johnsons said in a panic. "Hell no Bailey. You just want to run me into the ground." He said, pointing a finger accusingly at Chris.

"Maybe. We'll see won't we." He said innocently with a shoulder shrug.

Johnsons just mumbled about long distance runners and their mental health while he tromped inside.

Hours later the trailer was nearly full and there was a large pile of trash bags filled with beer cans in the front.

Chris watched his friend yawn tiredly as he scooped another armload of trash into the industrial trash can.

"Hey man, let's call it. It's nearly eleven." Chris said.

Johnons dropped the armload of refuse into the can and spoke through another yawn.

"Yeah, good call." He said tiredly and took off his gloves which also went into the can.

Chris followed suit with his own gloves and set his half filled bag aside.

Walking the short distance into the living room he retrieved his phone from the coffee table where it was plugged into a small speaker.

Unplugging and pausing the music he ignored the handful of work related notifications and stuffed it into his pocket.

"We did well, got more than half the house done I'd say." Chris said, looking around.

"Yeah, probably. Not much room left in the trailer anyways." Johnsons added.

Chris just nodded and pet Freckles.

"Kinda ridiculous really." Johnsons said finally. "I can't believe I was living like this. It's like it was someone else and I'm just now finding out."

"It's like I was sleepwalking almost, or in a dream? It's hard to explain." He said, staring at the pile of bags.

An awkward silence filled the room, Chris didn't know what to say. He wanted to comfort his friend but he was at a loss as to how. Finally his friend sighed.

"Hey...uh, thanks man. For helping me out. Means a lot." He said, looking at the floor.

"No problem, I was glad to." He responded immediately, it was the truth.

"Thanks, and thanks for buying all the stuff and the trailer too." He mumbled and vaguely gestured to the cleaning supplies they bought earlier.

"Don't worry about it, you'll be paying me back tomorrow morning, remember?" Chris said, standing from where he had been squatting and petting his dog.

Johnsons just groaned.

"Fuck, you're gonna smoke me aren't you." He asked after he was done groaning.