Goddess Ch. 17.5 - Interlude 02

Casey sat in their room, reading Hegel. With Tom out with Alan, there was no way for them to be bothered. Which was fantastic, because the Phenomenology of Spirit was proving to be as difficult as it's reputation suggested, and they were quite frankly annoyed. Adding to their annoyance came a the buzz of their phone.

"There's just no winning for me, it seems." they thought, getting out of their comfy armchair and making their way to their cell. Two texts from Cliff:

Come down to range.

Right across 110th Street, near the pizza shop.

Casey sighed.

"Guess there's no Hegel for me tonight." they thought, running downstairs. Given that 110th Street was only a mile and a half away, they decided to go on foot. They stretched a bit and sprinted.

"Right across 110th Street, near the pizza shop..." they thought, once they made it into town. The only building that matched that description was a dinky gray building that said "Al's Arms" on a ratty looking sign.

"Welp, if I was a gambler." they thought, shrugging. They crossed the street and entered the shop. Sat down at the other end of the small building was a man, around forty-something, sporting an excessive tan and silvery hair that covered almost every visible inch of him (aside from his face, which was clean shaven). Casey reluctantly approached the counter were the man sat, not entirely wanting to interact.

"Um, hello" they said.

"Welcome! What can I get for you?"

"I'm not here to shop. My buddy called me down, said to meet him at the range. His name's Cliff?"

"Ah, Cliffy! He's in the range."

The man handed Casey a pair of earmuffs and directed them through a door right behind the counter. Cliff was alone in the range, and had his custom Remington (that he'd named "Huey") out. Casey walked up and posted up on the wall behind him, watching him shoot at the target. Most of the rounds went at the crotch and the chest region.

"Oh, this is going to be a fun night." they thought. Cliff kept at this for a solid hour and a half, before Casey decided to tap him on the shoulder. Cliff turned around, waved to Casey, reloaded his rifle, fired the full magazine at what was left of the target's crotch region, then packed up his rifle and headed with Casey to the front.

"What do I owe ya?" Cliff asked Al, reaching for his wallet.

"Aww, you don't gotta bother with that Cliffy" Al said, leaning in with a smile.

Cliff sighed and walked out.

"Whatever."

Casey followed close behind, sensing their friend wasn't in good spirits.

"Was he coming on to you?" they asked.

"Yep. Been doing it since I was about 20. Course I don't date white gays. Or liberals. Or fuckin' bears for that matter."

"The guy's a bear?"

Cliff looked at Casey dumbfounded.

"What are we, splittin' hairs here?" Cliff said, raising his voice "Motherfucker's hairy as a carpet, owns a fuckin' gun store, and he's coming on to a guy half his age, course he's a damn bear!"

"OK OK, I'm sorry!" Casey said, trying to be supportive. Cliff stood outside his car, laying his head down on the roof.

"..You wanna talk about it?"

"..Can we go to your place?"

"Sure."

The two got into Cliff's car, and he drove, surprisingly doing so within the speed limit. They made their way back to the dorms and went up to Casey's. On the way, Cliff's face became more and more unkept. His eyes became watery and he was sniffling by the time they got in. Cliff sat down on the couch, still holding back tears and sniffling. Casey was unsure of what to do. Ordinarily their interactions with Cliff were either sex, the gym, or watching anime. Seeing a guy as proud and tough as Cliff on the verge of crying was alien.

"You uh... you want anything?"

Cliff shook his head. Casey scratched theirs.

"Could uh... could I ask what's wrong?"

"..I got rejected."

"Rejected? For what?"

"By the guy I was telling you about."

"Oh no! What happened?"

Cliff covered his face and kept sniffling. He spent the next few minutes holding back tears and kept sniffling. Casey sat beside him on the couch, not entirely sure how to deal with this. Finally, Cliff managed to get himself a bit together.

"Sorry," he said, his voice sounding slightly choked up "I kinda get non-verbal when I'm sad." He was still sniffling.

"You wanna talk about it?" asked Casey. Cliff nodded and sniffled again. "Take me through it, what happened?"

Cliff stammered out a story. About how one of the other party members, a handsome man about his age, would always speak admiringly about him, pay close attention to him at party meetings, stare admiringly at him, and be exceptionally kind to him. Cliff reciprocated what he felt to be affection, but hadn't the nerve to do anything about it until recently. After the party meeting, he spoke privately to this other man, and put himself out there, wanting to see where this would go.

"But..." said Cliff "He didn't... he..."

"He wasn't interested?"

"He was straight."

"Oh."

Casey patted Cliff on the back, trying to help their friend feel better. The two talked for what felt like hours, Casey handing Cliff tissues (and eventually paper towels). Casey offered Cliff some of their liquor, but Cliff refused, saying it'd be unacceptable for him as a Maoist and as a Politburo member of a party to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Casey stashed the bottle back in their hoodie. Just then, a furious pounding came at the door.

"R.A., open up!"

"Oh great, of all the people to show up." Casey thought. They opened the door and saw Alan standing there with Tom.

"What?" they asked bitterly.