Sunday, November 21:

Johnny's Place

An annoying noise penetrated his slumber. Finally identifying the sound as the phone ringing, he groped around until his hand hit the receiver. "Hello?" His voice came out as a croak. His tongue would not cooperate and his mouth felt like a herd of buffalo had slept there for a thousand years.

"Hi, John. I'm sorry, did I wake you?" The voice on the line belonged to Cap.

"Uh, no, that's okay." Johnny wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand and blearily regarded the clock. The face read 8:30. Johnny cleared his throat. "I was just getting up. Uh, I promised Roy I'd help him scrape the paint off his eaves today." He half remembered making such a promise sometime earlier and was glad for an excuse not to talk to Cap.

"I see. Well, I'll let you go, then. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Thanks, Cap. I appreciate that."

Johnny put the receiver back on the hook and considered the circumstances that had led to him awakening fully clothed on the sofa. He didn't remember all the events of the previous day. In fact, the last thing he remembered somewhat clearly was Roy's arrival at the door with food. He didn't remember exactly what they had talked about and he hoped he had not said anything too embarrassing. Wincing at the stiffness in his body as he got up and trying to stretch a bit, he accidentally struck a half-empty can of beer, tipping it over. He frowned in irritation at the growing puddle on the carpet. Sighing, he started to reach down to clean up the mess, but the folly of bending over became immediately apparent. He decided to head for the shower instead.

A hot shower revived him somewhat. The buffalo were gone from his mouth. They were now stampeding in his head. He figured he had better call Roy to let him know he was still coming over to help.

Joanne answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi Joanne. It's Johnny. Is Roy there?"

"Yes. Just a minute. I'll get him."

"Thanks." Johnny supposed that Roy had told Joanne what had happened. He was grateful that she had the good grace not to say anything. "Did he already start scraping the eaves?"

"No, he didn't. Here he is now." There was the sound of a phone being handed over and the low murmur of voices.

"Hi Johnny." Roy sounded like he had woken up not too long ago himself.

"Hi Roy. You still want some help today?" He tried to make the carefully modulated tones sound quite casual.

"Yeah. Are you coming?" Roy yawned into the phone.

"Yeah. I'll be there in a few minutes." Johnny would have sworn he could hear the buffalo bellowing now.

"Got a headache?" Roy guessed, judging from the timbre of Johnny's voice and how intoxicated he had appeared the previous day.

"Killer."

"Are you sure you want to come?"

"I said I'd be there."

"Okay. See you soon."

Johnny arrived at Roy's house shortly before ten o'clock. Dark circles under the eyes and haggard cheeks eloquently told the truth about how he was doing.

"Want some coffee before we start?"

"Yeah, thanks. I could use a cup."

Roy poured out two mugs and handed one to his friend. The silence stretched between them. After a bit he asked, "Did you eat anything?"

Johnny set his cup down and fixed Roy with an irritated look. "No, mother, I didn't."

"You need to eat someth…"

The mention of food aggravated several of the aforementioned buffalo, which were still roaming around in various parts of his body. "You don't need to tell me what to do!"

"Just asking if you ate."

They finished their coffee in awkward silence. "Ready?"

Johnny nodded and carried his cup over to the sink. Roy did the same.

The two men retrieved the chisels and the ladders from Roy's garage. They set up on the south side of the house and got to work. Johnny scraped so vigorously at the peeling paint, that he must have been removing some of the underlying lumber as well.

After several minutes, Johnny began to slow the pace of scraping. 'What are you so defensive about? You know he's right about needing to eat. You're acting like a jerk, Gage. You aren't going to have any friends left if you keep this up.' He sighed in exasperation with himself and turned slightly on the ladder to face Roy. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." Roy deemed it safe to ask about the condition of the eaves. "Did you leave any wood under there?" A grin played about the corners of his lips.

Johnny snorted in reply, shifted back the other direction and began scraping once again. The silence felt more comfortable this time.

Several breaks and several hours later, the job was almost done. For a while, Roy had tried to make small talk, but had finally given up on the one-sided conversation.

Ironically, Johnny was doing a better job at scraping paint off the eaves than was Roy. He didn't want to think about anything, so he used the mindless task to focus his attention. Where Roy was distracted and had missed quite a few spots, Johnny's careful concentration had resulted in an almost perfect removal of the peeling paint.

Suddenly Johnny bent over, hand cupped over his left eye. "Dammit!"

"What's the matter?" Roy asked as he hurriedly descended the ladder.

"Got a paint chip in my eye."

Johnny flinched involuntarily when he felt Roy put a hand on his back to help guide him down the ladder.

"Let me see." Roy took Johnny's face in his hands, and drew the upper and lower eyelids away from the eye. "Look up." Johnny used all his energy to move only his eye and not pull away. "I see it. I have some saline in the house." Roy kept his hand on Johnny's back as he steered him to lie down in a chaise lounge on the patio.

Returning with the saline and a cotton swab, Roy gently irrigated the eye and then lightly lifted the chip out with the swab. No longer looking at the injury, Roy looked into Johnny's eyes. "Got it." He involuntarily shrank from the abysmal misery that was there.

"Thanks." Johnny got off the chair and away from Roy's touch as fast as he could. He blinked a couple of times and brushed the water from his face. His eye was still tearing and his nose was running. He looked intensely at the eaves. There was about ten feet left to go. "Let's finish."

"Are you sure?" Roy asked, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

"Yeah. We're almost done. Let's finish."

The task was soon completed. "Are you going to stay for dinner?"

"No, I'm kind of tired."

"How about a beer and a sandwich before you go?"

"No, thanks."

"Okay." Roy nodded and swallowed, unable to think of anything else to say. He accompanied Johnny to the car, thanking him again for the assistance. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"So, when do you want to paint?"

"Later this week, if the weather holds."

"Okay, let me know."

Roy remained at the curb, staring after his friend, long after the Land Rover had pulled away.