In Proving Foresight May Be Vain

By Dimgwrthien

Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to "Of Mice and Men" or affiliates.

The tables had a sheen of polish on them, unmarred by dust or fingerprints under the watchful eye of the woman who owned it. A small doily sat on the table under a flowerpot with a white daisy in it. Near the table sat a clean chair, followed by another on the other side. The white walls, almost starched in their perfection, had only a few windows that were robed in a floating white fabric.

A young, brown-haired man sat in one of the chairs bolt upright as though afraid to touch the chair. He twisted his cap in one hand.

Clara, an old woman with a pale, wrinkled face and thick glasses that looked like targets on her face, smiled to George. "Damn right," she told him. "Don't muss up my furniture. I jus' cleaned up a few hours ago."

"I can tell," George answered. He noticed that even the cat had a groomed look, as though Clara had spent hours combing its white fur. "It looks nice."

"Than' you." Clara smiled praise onto George and even reached out to smack one of his cheeks affectionately. "You're such a goo' boy. You woulda ma'e such a fine store owner or something'. An' I thin' you still could."

George smiled back. "I don' think so, Miss Clara, ma'am."

"Certai'ly much better than Lennie is gonna," she continued as though she could not hear him. Her starched apron was too stiff to even bend as she bent over to pat his cheek once more. George winced. "He's such a - such a…" She paused and sighed. "An' I damn well hope you can take good care a him."

"Course I will." George waited until she finished patting his cheek once more. "I'll take Lennie and me an' him'll go off an' find the ranches aroun'. Weed's really close an' I think we coul' make it before day next. I hear there's a damn good ranch down there tha's takin' in some people now. Buncha workers quit when this all happent."

"Such a tra'gety," Clara answered. "Le' me go get you somethin' to eat."

"It's awright," George called after her, but the fat little lady was already scuttling into the next room. Another figure entered the room with loud footsteps from behind the open door. Lennie entered, his huge feet dragging on the cleaned floor before he sat down next to George.

"Hello, George," Lennie greeted, grinning. The cushion under him sagged, bringing George down a bit as well. Lennie was already a large man - muscular and taller than anyone else George had ever seen. He would have to be helpful on one of the ranches with his strength. "Whaddya doin' here?"

"I'm takin' you somewhere," George told him, jabbing a finger into the pure muscle of Lennie's arm.

"Where?" Lennie looked confused, eyes glancing around the room as if someone would run out and drag him away. "Are we goin' to a farm or the circus?"

"We're gonna go to a ranch and get some jobs. Then we'll make some money an' come back after a while an' you can live with your Aunt Clara ag'in."

"I like livin' with Aunt Clara." Lennie smiled at George, his mouth huge in his shapeless face, filled with teeth. "She gives me some - some mice an' I get to pet 'em!"

George smirked. "I know you like mice."

"But - but o'ce she gave me one of 'em rubber mice an' I didn't like to pet it." Lennie's nose wrinkled like a dog's. "It wasn' no fun to pet 'cause it was so hard. It wasn' soft at all."

Clara returned a moment later with a large sandwich on a plate. She handed it to George, smiling to him, then turned to Lennie. Her smile faded slightly. "You up now? Damn, I though' you woul' never get up! You been sleepin' for hours! I tol' you to get to sleep early las' night 'cause you be goin' with George today!"

"I'm sorry, Aunt Clara, ma'am," Lennie answered, bowing his head in shame. "I didn't mean to stay up so late. I was jus' -"

"Out findin' them sonofabitch mice and rabbits? Goddamn, Lennie, none a' them mice wanna see ya! You jus' gonna kill them like you usually do!" She threw her arms over his head in exasperation. "I don' think George is gonna wanna take you now! Now he knows how much you hurt ever'thin' you touch! Maybe if you learned to control yourself for once! Then you wouldn' be such a problem to my little George!"

Lennie kept his head down and mumbled an apology. Clara sighed and left the room in silence, not daring to look back at Lennie. Seeing the man looking so put out, George shoved him slightly to get his attention. "Lennie, cheer up. I'm gonna take you an' we're gonna go to the ranch an' have some fun workin', right?" When Lennie still didn't look up, George continued, "An' me an' you can head into the town sometimes, jus' me and you. An' we can raise some hell, jus' like we hear them guys a'ways doin', right?" Lennie's head moved slightly, but he gave a choked sob. "Goddamnit, Lennie. Have somma my sandwich or something. Just stop blubberin'! You're makin' yourself look like a damn idiot!" He angrily tore off half of the sandwich and pushed it into Lennie's hand.

"Thanks, George," Lennie mumbled. "I don' wanna be no trouble or nothing'. I jus' wanna go with you an' I can be real good for you. I won' complain or fight or nothing'. I promise, George."

"Well, you better not," George told him stubbornly. "You jus' behave real good an' we'll only be gone for a month or so, an' then we can come back with your Aunt Clara."