Treaty
Chapter 7
After handing Chet a chili dog, Johnny looked into another of the white bags, and fished out a milk shake. Deftly removing the paper cup, he glanced up in search of the perfect place to set the drink. Occupied with assembling the remainder of Chet's meal, Johnny hadn't noticed Chet's initial response to his surprise food. Settling the cup on the hospital rolling table, Johnny chanced to look up. The site that greeted him was puzzling.
Chet sat slack jawed, nose twitching, saucer round eyes glued to the chili dog he held in his hands.
Puzzled, Johnny stood silently observing. When the pregnant pause had drawn out long enough, Johnny finally spoke. "What'sa matter Kelly? You look like ya' never saw a chili dog before."
There was an audible gulp from Chet, and he forced his slack jaw to close. He looked up at Johnny, then back down at the dog in his hand.
Echoes of thundering hoof beats, and haunting smoky fragrances lingered from the vivid imagery of Chet's dream, so recently lived. Scorched genitalia twinged with phantom pain in response to the heavy, meaty aroma of the freshly roasted wiener. The dog was abruptly returned to the table, and Chet withdrew his hand from the bun encased, chili covered frankfurter as if the offending object were searing hot.
Though suspicions Chet might have been in the midst of a nightmare had filtered through Johnny's consciousness as he'd entered the room, those thoughts had been vanquished when wakefulness returned to a troubled friend. Chet's reaction to the meaty repast now witnessed, found Johnny stunned. Johnny remembered he'd heard Chet say he liked chili dogs, and for breakfast too. The man's reaction was mystifying.
"Are you all right Chet?" Astonishment tinged with concern laced Johnny's voice.
Licking incredibly dry lips, Chet again looked down at the food. He wriggled his derriere in the hospital bed uncomfortably. His dream had been so vivid!
Glancing up at his friend, Chet's blue eyes reflected a bit of the hunted prey he'd been in his dream.
"Uh….no…uh… I'm fine Gage." He mumbled, unable to quell the niggling feeling of barely escaped peril.
Now Johnny really was becoming concerned. Perhaps Chet needed some medical attention. He'd never seen his friend turn down a favorite epicurean delight. "Do I need to get the nurse for you? Are you all right?"
Chet was indeed in a quandary. He didn't want to share his dream, but the dream had been so recent, and so intense, Chet was still somewhat tangled in its' web. He wasn't sure what to say, so he sat staring mutely at Johnny for a few more moments.
Johnny glanced around the bed in search of the nurse's call bell. Spying the object of his search, he reached down and picked up the device.
Somehow, the motion of Johnny picking up the call button roused Chet from his stupor. Hastily, he placed a halting hand on Johnny's.
Chet looked down at his work worn, sturdy Irish paw resting atop the tanned native skin and long fingers of Johnny's hand. Seeing their hands together, contrasted there against the sparkling white of the hospital sheet, Chet's mind danced back to recall those same sure hands working to stabilize him after his accident. Those native hands brought comfort and security in a moment of pain and fear. They were the hands of his friend.
Blue eyes turned upward to peer at Johnny. "No, don't man. I'm fine. It's just…."
Johnny paused, and waited for the sentence to finish. After a few moments he grew impatient. "Just what Chet?"
Chet didn't move his hand, but his body squirmed uneasily. "It's nothin' Gage." He deflected. The complications of Chet's relationship with Johnny made any sort of vulnerability between the men difficult.
Johnny withdrew his hand from the call bell, and planted his fists on his hips. "All right Chet, what's goin' on? Give!" He demanded.
Chet sighed with exasperation. "It's nothing Gage." His voice reflected a bravado he truly couldn't summon.
"It's not nothing Chet. I thought you liked chili dogs' man. I was figuring by now you'd be starving. Hospital food is gross." Johnny really had missed the direction Chet's mind had strayed.
Chet shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, actually I am." He responded, and reluctantly picked up the chili dog, giving it a tentative sniff. Smoldering flesh over bonfires momentarily forgotten, Chet took an experimental bite of the food. It was delicious! His stomach growled with a newly awakened appetite.
For a few minutes both men munched their meal in companionable silence.
Finishing off his first chili dog, Johnny reached into the bag and withdrew a second. While he unwrapped the food, he thought about how to approach the conversation he needed to have with Chet.
Perhaps Johnny had paused, and been starring at Chet. He didn't know. But, after a few moments Chet stopped eating and glared at Johnny. "What?" He demanded.
Johnny shrugged, and finished the task of unwrapping his chili dog. "Well, nothin', really." He mumbled. Then after taking a mouthful, he began speaking, this time with a hunk of chili dog chipmunked in his cheek. "Well, ah…. I guess that's not true really. I do kinda' have somethin' on my mind."
Chet eyed his companion. It was obvious Gage was uncomfortable for some reason. Feeling more in control, given his pigeon seemed to be feeling awkward now, Chet reached into the bag, and withdrew a second dog. "What's your problem Gage?" He demanded, while unwrapping his food.
Johnny put his dog on the rolling table, and looked directly into Chet's eyes. "Look man, I wanted to talk to you about somethin', and it's kinda' important to me. No jokin' around either."
Surprised, Chet too laid his food on the table. "O.K., I'm listening," he said, in a somewhat defiant tone.
Now it was Johnny's turn to squirm. But, he needed to clear the air with Chet, and there seemed to be only one way to go. So, while closely examining the wrapper of his chili dog, Johnny dove into his confrontation with both feet. "Look Chet, all those comments you've been making about me being an Indian…. I know you probably didn't intend to be mean or anything, but It's been kinda' buggin' me. A joke is a joke, but too many people say terrible things about Native Americans, things that just aren't true. I hear it all the time. I see how my people have been hurt by the perceptions of whites. Your jokes, to me they are just not funny. In fact, they are exactly the opposite of funny. Do you seriously think you are the first person to make fun of me because I am half Indian? It happened a lot when I was a kid. The whites made fun, and so did the Indians. I've had to deal with this race thing all my life. Sometimes it really gets to me…. You know? I mean, how would you feel if people made fun of your Irish heritage. What if all you got were jokes about how your people are drunkards, thieves and good for nothing but brawling?"
Johnny realized he was rambling. He stopped, and glanced at Chet. His friend's eyes seemed to look through him, as if Chet were someplace far away.
The wall of words, so long held back, gushed out of Johnny like a wave of fiery arrows. Chet felt the impact of the pent up hurt and anger slam into him with the force of a stinging dessert sand storm.
As the words tumbled out of Johnny, the intensity of the upset, and the darkness of the anger caused Chet's mind to re-call how his grandfather had sounded while describing life in the United States following immigration from Ireland, so many years ago. The dark futility of dealing with prejudices that couldn't be changed insinuated itself into Chet's consciousness. He remembered tales of crushing poverty and deprivation. The oppression of his own people simply because they had dared to search for prosperity and liberty; those stories now reverberated in Chet's head.
Chet had been so lost in his own ruminations, he didn't even realize Johnny had stopped speaking, and was now staring at him.
When awareness dawned that Johnny had stopped speaking, Chet blinked his baby blues, and reaching up, wiped his face with a hand as if he could sweep away the cobwebs of ancient history that had settled on his brain.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Chet looked directly into Johnny's eyes and replied, "Relax babe! I hear ya'. From this day forward, no more Indian jokes." Chet held up his right hand, palm forward. "I swear."
Now it was Johnny's turn to gape. He gawked in stunned silence.
Chet smiled smugly, shrugged his shoulders dismissively, and as if nothing had passed between the men, Chet picked up his chili dog, and resumed eating.
Realizing Chet had dismissed the topic, Johnny shook his head in silent wonderment. He'd never figure the man out! All this time, all he'd needed to do was speak honestly with Chet? Unbelievable!
When eating had been finished, and both men were sipping the final dregs of their shakes, conversation resumed anew. This time, Chet did the talking.
"You know Gage, I always thought you were puttin' on when you gripe about hospitals, and how they won't let you sleep." Chet closed his eyes, and mournfully shook his head from side to side. "You weren't kiddin', were ya'. So much noise, and so many interruptions. I think I'm gonn'a lose my mind if I don't get out of here soon."
Johnny grinned. He could totally understand his friend's misery. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure you haven't already lost that mind of yours. Looked like you were havin' one heck-of-a' dream when I walked in. What were ya' dreamin' about anyway?"
Chet looked into Johnny's face, and grinned sheepishly. "Well, ah…. I was dreamin' I was bein' chased by Indians, if ya' gotta know. They were after me, and they were about to catch me. Then they had me tied to a pole, roasting me over a bonfire. It was so REAL! I could hear the sounds of the horse's hooves, and the war drums. I could even smell charred the flesh as they roasted my buns."
Johnny's eyes grew wider with every word. He burst out laughing.
Chet too couldn't help but laugh.
Johnny wiped away tears, and tried to speak. "Oh no! You must have been hearing that floor buffer! Then the smells of the food….." He burst into fits of giggles again.
Blue eyes wide, Chet added, "It was SO real Gage! Then, I woke up lookin' at your ugly mug! I just knew I was a goner!"
Johnny gasped for air. "That's why you looked so strangely at that first hot dog! You thought….." He dissolved into silliness again.
Chet blushed deeply, as he too couldn't help the giggles that bubbled up from inside him. "Yeah Gage, well… how would you feel if you woke up from a dream like that, only to have your FRIEND feed you roasted wieners?!"
And a restless peace was forged. A treaty wrought from understanding.
The End
