Chapter 15
"I have to get Chris a gift," Gordie was saying, hands gesturing wildly in the air, lying on his back on the cot. He, Justi and Teddy were sitting around the tree house on a lazy Saturday afternoon. It was late November, and it had just started getting cold. Leaves were all fallen, and in the mornings, frost lined the window. They had all started wearing jackets to school and seeing their breath in the early morning.
"Lie," Teddy said instantly. "You most certainly do not."
"How can I get away with NOT getting him a Christmas gift?" Gordie asked, looking at Teddy like he was the dumbest person in the world.
"I never got Frieda a present!"
"And see how well off you two are?" Justi put in dryly, rolling her eyes at the mention of Teddy's ex-girlfriend, who had recently thrown a rock through Teddy's window bearing the note 'Fuck off and die Duchamp'. "You're absolutely right, Gordie. You must get him a present."
"But what the hell do you get someone like Chris?" Gordie asked, shaking his head.
Justi shook her head. "I don't know," she said.
"Do they sell balls?"
"Teddy!"
"Chris is not lacking in that department," Gordie said, closing his eyes.
"That was more than I needed to know," Teddy muttered.
"Well then never make a comment like that again."
Justi just smiled. "Hey, you guys, you haven't met my boyfriend yet."
Gordie sat up fast enough to crack his head on the shelf above the cot. "What?"
"You didn't know, Lachance?" Teddy asked, half-mockingly.
"Justi, you have a boyfriend?"
"And he's soooo dreamy," Teddy imitated.
"Ignore him, Gordie," Justi said impatiently, waving her hand for Teddy to shut up. "His name is Jude."
"Jude Gray?" Gordie cocked his head to the side.
"Yeah. . . do you know him?"
"He's in my math class."
"Do you like him?"
"Oh yeah, he's hot!"
Justi made a face.
"Joke. I am not going to steal your man, Justi, I promise."
Justi shook her head, but kept looking at Gordie suspiciously, until finally Teddy and Gordie had to look at each other and laugh.
For the next hour, Justi and Teddy played poker, trying to pass time, but Gordie's mind remained on the dilemma of what to get Chris for Christmas. "Teddy, can I take your car to the store?"
"No. If you ask nicely I will consider driving you."
"Why the hell can't I drive your car?"
"Because, Lachance. No one drives my car but me."
Teddy, though, seemed obsessed with stopping at every single stop sign and pulling into every single parking lot. Gordie, exasperated after a few hours of this, yelled his rebellion.
"Teddy, just drive, dammit!"
"Fine then, Mr. Bossy-the-Cow."
"You think I'm Bossy the COW?" Gordie repeated indignantly.
"Mr. Bossy-the-Cow."
"Oh, that makes it all better."
"You don't even know where you want to go yet, cock-knocker!"
Gordie rolled his eyes. "Which is why you should be driving like a normal person, you loser. This is going to take all day anyway."
Teddy groaned. "Wonderful. An all-day shopping expedition with a gay guy."
"That was bitter, Teddy. Any underlying issues you'd like to talk about?"
"Shut up, Lachance," Teddy muttered, laughing. "Where are we going to first?" he asked, as the bigger city of Greenview, Oregon came into view. Most of the shopping was done at Greenview, as Castle Rock had nothing but a general grocery store.
"Eh. . . I dunno. . . how does the record shop sound?"
"The record shop," Teddy repeated dubiously.
"Yes, the record shop! What the hell's the matter with the record shop? Chris loves music!"
"Well, duh, Lachance, you fucking moron. And what does he want more than anything in the world because he loves music?"
"Uh. . . a tuning fork?"
"Wow, I guess I never realized you were such a moron," Teddy said, shaking his head and keeping his eyes on the road. "No, he wants a guitar."
Gordie smacked his forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?" Chris had played guitar for years now, taking lessons at the Community Center and using his instructor's guitar. But neither he nor his mother had ever been able to afford to buy him one.
"Because you're a loser and I'm better than you."
"Wrong!"
"So right. I'm better than you."
"No, you're not."
"Say it! Say it or I swear I'll turn around and go home like a bat out of hell!"
Gordie sighed. "You're better than me."
"Yee ha!"
"This one's pretty."
"Gordie, you don't buy a guitar because it's pretty."
"Some of us do."
"Well, refrain from being one of them. Here, get this one."
"Teddy, it's like the guitar of doom."
"I'm betting you could spraypaint over the skulls and crossbones if you really wanted to."
"Why don't I skip that and get this one?"
"Because Chris would beat you over the head with it, that's why."
"What makes you say that?"
"The fact that it's pink has something to do with it. God, I didn't even know they made pink guitars. . . "
Half an hour later, the two of them had combed the whole store, with one guitar left.
"That one's nice," Gordie commented.
"Yeah," agreed Teddy. He picked it up and plucked a string. "Nice sound."
"That one is nice," a salesman agreed. "It's said that if you give that particular guitar to someone as a gift, there's a true love between the giver and the receiver."
"Huh? Huh?" Teddy muttered, elbowing Gordie.
"Yeah, Teddy, I heard."
"Birthday gift for someone?" the clerk inquired.
"No, Christmas present," Gordie corrected. "They've, uh, been playing a while, and I want to get them a really nice guitar. I'm willing to spend up to a hundred bucks."
"Well, this one's forty-seven dollars, and the case is eighteen. The case isn't top quality, though, if you'd like to upgrade-"
"The case is fine," Gordie cut in. "Is there anything else I need? I don't know much about guitars."
Four picks, one shoulder strap, and seventy-two dollars later, Teddy and Gordie were whooping and cheering in the parking lot.
"Lachance, you just landed the best Christmas gift ever! Hell yeah, man, he'll be making you breakfast in bed for a fucking year!"
"How did you know? I never would have thought to get him a guitar!"
"Well, me and Vern were going to ask if you wanted to help us buy one for him for his birthday, but that was before you. . . got gay-"
"Well said, Teddy."
"-And we figured you might like to get one for him yourself."
"You've had this idea for over six months and never told me? I hate you!"
"Well, you can walk home then, dammit!"
"Never mind, Teddy, I love you."
Teddy looked at him oddly. "Again I say, you can walk home."
"It has to be perfect," Chris said to Lea later that week, walking around the university bookstore. "The perfect gift. I can't get him just anything. I don't even know if I should get him a book. I mean, he owns like every one ever made. . . "
"Well, then don't get him one that's been made yet," Lea said, paying for her purchases and leading Chris out of the bookstore.
"What? Explain yourself, woman."
"Why don't you write a whole bunch of poems for him, bind them into a book, and give it to him?"
"Lea, I don't do poetry."
"Sure you do. I've seen you make it up all the time, on the spot." Chris sighed and cleared his throat. "Gordie, Gordie, you really make me horny / When I'm with you, I don't need porn-y."
"Okay, leave that one out of the anthology."
"Screw it, Lea, I'm not writing- or giving- any poetry to anyone. Ever."
"An idea occurs to me," she said slowly.
"Speak, woman."
"Stop calling me woman!"
"Stop making me call you woman."
"Anyway!"
"Yes, anyway. The idea."
"Put together a scrapbook."
"No poetry."
"I meant, like a photo album. There are so many photos in that box you keep under your bed. . . if you put them all into an album-"
"Then he'd think I was a stalker."
"He would not! He'd think it was sweet."
Chris sighed. "All right, I'll make an album. Where the hell do you get a blank photo book, anyway?"
"A lot of places sell them."
"You go in and buy it. They'll look at me like I'm gay or something."
"You are gay."
"That is not yet a publicly known fact."
"Aw, Chris, that's coming along great!" Lea commented later that night. Chris was sitting at his coffee table, gluing photographs into the book. "I made you some soup."
"Thanks," he said distractedly. "Hey, look at this one." He was holding a picture of he and Gordie, laughing and holding cotton candy sticks at the county fair. "Look how little we are."
"Oh my God!" Lea squealed. "You make the cutest little eight year old- "
"Yeah, check out our matching bowl haircuts. . ."
"Where's this?" Lea asked.
"That's Vern's tenth birthday party," Chris said, taking the picture from her. "Teddy shoved him into the cake, and then Vern dumped ice cream down Teddy's pants. . . it was quite a party."
"Sounds like it."
"I'd forgotten I had all these," Chris said, riffling through the box. "I can't believe I've kept them all."
"You'll thank yourself someday."
"I'm thanking myself now." Chris smiled. "Look how cute Gordie was." A three year old Gordie peered up at them from the black and white living room of 1950.
"Look how cute the two of you are together," Lea said, taking another picture up. This was Chris and Gordie, laughing again, only this time they were soaking wet. Gordie was holding a water balloon, and Chris was holding a hose.
"Good times," Chris said fondly. "No matter how many times he hit me with a water balloon, he never seemed to remember that I always ended up with the hose. . . "
Lea let herself out at about eleven that night, and Chris fell asleep holding a picture of Gordie.
End of Chapter 15
Yay. . . Chapter 15's done. . . I think it ended up kind of cute.
Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. . . ALEKA REVIEWED MY STORY TWICE! Oh! What now! (This has always been a personal goal of mine. . . I'm in deep admiration of everything she's ever written.)
Moonriverandme- I heart your story! I heart the positive reviews you give me!
I am totally incapable of reviewing anything, by the way. Every time I click the review button, my computer gives me some "Script error" crap. I just thought I'd make that known so that nobody thought I was a pompous arrogant jerk who's too lazy, stupid, and/or conceited to ever review anything.
I am REALLY REALLY hyper right now. . . my grandma works at Starbucks and I just got a sixteen-pack of frappuccinos from her for five bucks (WHAT NOW, HUH?), so I've been slurping all day. And it's my dad's birthday, so we're all like "YOU SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!"
I'm gonna stop typing now (we just got a new keyboard and I really really like to type so I've been typing nonsense all day), but first I'd like to say that I'm going back to my mom's house (with the crappy computer) on Tuesday. I'm going to seriously make an effort to get Chapter 16 up by then.
Muchas Heartas, The Masked Penguin
"I have to get Chris a gift," Gordie was saying, hands gesturing wildly in the air, lying on his back on the cot. He, Justi and Teddy were sitting around the tree house on a lazy Saturday afternoon. It was late November, and it had just started getting cold. Leaves were all fallen, and in the mornings, frost lined the window. They had all started wearing jackets to school and seeing their breath in the early morning.
"Lie," Teddy said instantly. "You most certainly do not."
"How can I get away with NOT getting him a Christmas gift?" Gordie asked, looking at Teddy like he was the dumbest person in the world.
"I never got Frieda a present!"
"And see how well off you two are?" Justi put in dryly, rolling her eyes at the mention of Teddy's ex-girlfriend, who had recently thrown a rock through Teddy's window bearing the note 'Fuck off and die Duchamp'. "You're absolutely right, Gordie. You must get him a present."
"But what the hell do you get someone like Chris?" Gordie asked, shaking his head.
Justi shook her head. "I don't know," she said.
"Do they sell balls?"
"Teddy!"
"Chris is not lacking in that department," Gordie said, closing his eyes.
"That was more than I needed to know," Teddy muttered.
"Well then never make a comment like that again."
Justi just smiled. "Hey, you guys, you haven't met my boyfriend yet."
Gordie sat up fast enough to crack his head on the shelf above the cot. "What?"
"You didn't know, Lachance?" Teddy asked, half-mockingly.
"Justi, you have a boyfriend?"
"And he's soooo dreamy," Teddy imitated.
"Ignore him, Gordie," Justi said impatiently, waving her hand for Teddy to shut up. "His name is Jude."
"Jude Gray?" Gordie cocked his head to the side.
"Yeah. . . do you know him?"
"He's in my math class."
"Do you like him?"
"Oh yeah, he's hot!"
Justi made a face.
"Joke. I am not going to steal your man, Justi, I promise."
Justi shook her head, but kept looking at Gordie suspiciously, until finally Teddy and Gordie had to look at each other and laugh.
For the next hour, Justi and Teddy played poker, trying to pass time, but Gordie's mind remained on the dilemma of what to get Chris for Christmas. "Teddy, can I take your car to the store?"
"No. If you ask nicely I will consider driving you."
"Why the hell can't I drive your car?"
"Because, Lachance. No one drives my car but me."
Teddy, though, seemed obsessed with stopping at every single stop sign and pulling into every single parking lot. Gordie, exasperated after a few hours of this, yelled his rebellion.
"Teddy, just drive, dammit!"
"Fine then, Mr. Bossy-the-Cow."
"You think I'm Bossy the COW?" Gordie repeated indignantly.
"Mr. Bossy-the-Cow."
"Oh, that makes it all better."
"You don't even know where you want to go yet, cock-knocker!"
Gordie rolled his eyes. "Which is why you should be driving like a normal person, you loser. This is going to take all day anyway."
Teddy groaned. "Wonderful. An all-day shopping expedition with a gay guy."
"That was bitter, Teddy. Any underlying issues you'd like to talk about?"
"Shut up, Lachance," Teddy muttered, laughing. "Where are we going to first?" he asked, as the bigger city of Greenview, Oregon came into view. Most of the shopping was done at Greenview, as Castle Rock had nothing but a general grocery store.
"Eh. . . I dunno. . . how does the record shop sound?"
"The record shop," Teddy repeated dubiously.
"Yes, the record shop! What the hell's the matter with the record shop? Chris loves music!"
"Well, duh, Lachance, you fucking moron. And what does he want more than anything in the world because he loves music?"
"Uh. . . a tuning fork?"
"Wow, I guess I never realized you were such a moron," Teddy said, shaking his head and keeping his eyes on the road. "No, he wants a guitar."
Gordie smacked his forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?" Chris had played guitar for years now, taking lessons at the Community Center and using his instructor's guitar. But neither he nor his mother had ever been able to afford to buy him one.
"Because you're a loser and I'm better than you."
"Wrong!"
"So right. I'm better than you."
"No, you're not."
"Say it! Say it or I swear I'll turn around and go home like a bat out of hell!"
Gordie sighed. "You're better than me."
"Yee ha!"
"This one's pretty."
"Gordie, you don't buy a guitar because it's pretty."
"Some of us do."
"Well, refrain from being one of them. Here, get this one."
"Teddy, it's like the guitar of doom."
"I'm betting you could spraypaint over the skulls and crossbones if you really wanted to."
"Why don't I skip that and get this one?"
"Because Chris would beat you over the head with it, that's why."
"What makes you say that?"
"The fact that it's pink has something to do with it. God, I didn't even know they made pink guitars. . . "
Half an hour later, the two of them had combed the whole store, with one guitar left.
"That one's nice," Gordie commented.
"Yeah," agreed Teddy. He picked it up and plucked a string. "Nice sound."
"That one is nice," a salesman agreed. "It's said that if you give that particular guitar to someone as a gift, there's a true love between the giver and the receiver."
"Huh? Huh?" Teddy muttered, elbowing Gordie.
"Yeah, Teddy, I heard."
"Birthday gift for someone?" the clerk inquired.
"No, Christmas present," Gordie corrected. "They've, uh, been playing a while, and I want to get them a really nice guitar. I'm willing to spend up to a hundred bucks."
"Well, this one's forty-seven dollars, and the case is eighteen. The case isn't top quality, though, if you'd like to upgrade-"
"The case is fine," Gordie cut in. "Is there anything else I need? I don't know much about guitars."
Four picks, one shoulder strap, and seventy-two dollars later, Teddy and Gordie were whooping and cheering in the parking lot.
"Lachance, you just landed the best Christmas gift ever! Hell yeah, man, he'll be making you breakfast in bed for a fucking year!"
"How did you know? I never would have thought to get him a guitar!"
"Well, me and Vern were going to ask if you wanted to help us buy one for him for his birthday, but that was before you. . . got gay-"
"Well said, Teddy."
"-And we figured you might like to get one for him yourself."
"You've had this idea for over six months and never told me? I hate you!"
"Well, you can walk home then, dammit!"
"Never mind, Teddy, I love you."
Teddy looked at him oddly. "Again I say, you can walk home."
"It has to be perfect," Chris said to Lea later that week, walking around the university bookstore. "The perfect gift. I can't get him just anything. I don't even know if I should get him a book. I mean, he owns like every one ever made. . . "
"Well, then don't get him one that's been made yet," Lea said, paying for her purchases and leading Chris out of the bookstore.
"What? Explain yourself, woman."
"Why don't you write a whole bunch of poems for him, bind them into a book, and give it to him?"
"Lea, I don't do poetry."
"Sure you do. I've seen you make it up all the time, on the spot." Chris sighed and cleared his throat. "Gordie, Gordie, you really make me horny / When I'm with you, I don't need porn-y."
"Okay, leave that one out of the anthology."
"Screw it, Lea, I'm not writing- or giving- any poetry to anyone. Ever."
"An idea occurs to me," she said slowly.
"Speak, woman."
"Stop calling me woman!"
"Stop making me call you woman."
"Anyway!"
"Yes, anyway. The idea."
"Put together a scrapbook."
"No poetry."
"I meant, like a photo album. There are so many photos in that box you keep under your bed. . . if you put them all into an album-"
"Then he'd think I was a stalker."
"He would not! He'd think it was sweet."
Chris sighed. "All right, I'll make an album. Where the hell do you get a blank photo book, anyway?"
"A lot of places sell them."
"You go in and buy it. They'll look at me like I'm gay or something."
"You are gay."
"That is not yet a publicly known fact."
"Aw, Chris, that's coming along great!" Lea commented later that night. Chris was sitting at his coffee table, gluing photographs into the book. "I made you some soup."
"Thanks," he said distractedly. "Hey, look at this one." He was holding a picture of he and Gordie, laughing and holding cotton candy sticks at the county fair. "Look how little we are."
"Oh my God!" Lea squealed. "You make the cutest little eight year old- "
"Yeah, check out our matching bowl haircuts. . ."
"Where's this?" Lea asked.
"That's Vern's tenth birthday party," Chris said, taking the picture from her. "Teddy shoved him into the cake, and then Vern dumped ice cream down Teddy's pants. . . it was quite a party."
"Sounds like it."
"I'd forgotten I had all these," Chris said, riffling through the box. "I can't believe I've kept them all."
"You'll thank yourself someday."
"I'm thanking myself now." Chris smiled. "Look how cute Gordie was." A three year old Gordie peered up at them from the black and white living room of 1950.
"Look how cute the two of you are together," Lea said, taking another picture up. This was Chris and Gordie, laughing again, only this time they were soaking wet. Gordie was holding a water balloon, and Chris was holding a hose.
"Good times," Chris said fondly. "No matter how many times he hit me with a water balloon, he never seemed to remember that I always ended up with the hose. . . "
Lea let herself out at about eleven that night, and Chris fell asleep holding a picture of Gordie.
End of Chapter 15
Yay. . . Chapter 15's done. . . I think it ended up kind of cute.
Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. . . ALEKA REVIEWED MY STORY TWICE! Oh! What now! (This has always been a personal goal of mine. . . I'm in deep admiration of everything she's ever written.)
Moonriverandme- I heart your story! I heart the positive reviews you give me!
I am totally incapable of reviewing anything, by the way. Every time I click the review button, my computer gives me some "Script error" crap. I just thought I'd make that known so that nobody thought I was a pompous arrogant jerk who's too lazy, stupid, and/or conceited to ever review anything.
I am REALLY REALLY hyper right now. . . my grandma works at Starbucks and I just got a sixteen-pack of frappuccinos from her for five bucks (WHAT NOW, HUH?), so I've been slurping all day. And it's my dad's birthday, so we're all like "YOU SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!"
I'm gonna stop typing now (we just got a new keyboard and I really really like to type so I've been typing nonsense all day), but first I'd like to say that I'm going back to my mom's house (with the crappy computer) on Tuesday. I'm going to seriously make an effort to get Chapter 16 up by then.
Muchas Heartas, The Masked Penguin