moving day
Carver Johnston - the apparent walking mid-life crisis, the one, the only - had moved from Moving Hell, and had upgraded to Lots Of Cardboard Boxes Hell. He made a slight grunting noise in the back of his throat as he tried to tackle the first box, which by its weight suggested to him that he was going to fill his new apartment with stones, and then stopped as he felt his back crick warningly. He scrubbed one hand through his fair brown hair - pulled back by a rubber band, the height of moving chic - and sighed. Then, with the expression of someone about to pilfer the cookie jar, he searched around in his kitchen before coming out with a crumpled packet of cigarettes. He had to light it on the toaster, and - just a little houseproud - went to stand outside his front door to take a long drag at it.
The enclosed area was actually pretty nice, if a little sterile. The garden was threatening to eat fences and buildings and would probably devour anybody who went in there with a weedwhacker.
Ugh. If he'd had any sense, he should have dumped the boxes in a skip and bought new furniture from Ikea. Carver took another mildly gloomy drag.
How he loved his car. A shiny red convertable that just screamed mid life crisis, even if the driver wasn't at his mid life and would probably need a new car by the time he got there.
Tristan Kane pulled up out side the compound and parked there. He had decided today was just a day to look around. He wasn't sure about parking inside and today he had decided he was just looking around, even if he had packed everything up already.
He looked in the review mirror and tried to fix his hair quickly. It was pointless though, no matter how hard he tried he could not get his mass of black hair to behave itself, it however decided to make it always look like he had just had sex.
He got out of the car after his fruitless efforts and moved tso he could reach into the back seat, "Okay Hammie time to check things out." He picked up the small puppy that had been napping in the back seat, the dog whined a bit in protest but woke up quickly and was happy by the time he was set on the ground. Tristan didn't put his leash on, he never liked leashes much, he was too much of an animal person.
He walked through the gate, Hammie following behind, pausing every so often to sniff something. Tristan kept his eyes open for other people, he had alway been horrible at navigation places and left to his own devices he would probably walk around in a circle for an hour before he realized it. It was amazing a person like him could manage a PhD.
Sadly, one cigarette had already turned into two. Carver had moved to linger outside his apartment building, just to take in the air and hope that he wasn't about to set any fire alarms off, looking about as furtive as a teenage boy.
It wasn't long before he spotted Tristan; grateful for any other sign of life in the compound, Carver raised a friendly hand in greeting, straightening up from the wall. If poor Tristan's car screamed mid-life crisis, Carver himself practically hollered it from the rooftops; middling thirties, and he still, alas, had an eyebrow piercing.
"Good afternoon," he said, in his clipped and polished Oxford accent, also raging against everything visual he represented. "I don't suppose you're a visitor? - Oh, is that little fellow yours? This is pretty much heaven for a puppy - more trees than the Congo."
Tristan too was happy for signs of life. He had always been a people person, he hated being alone so he didn't have a second thought about walking over to the total stranger. "Afternoon to you too. Yeah, he is mine, his name is Hamlet," he had no accent, but something about the way he talked gave him an intelligent air. Maybe it had something to do with his dog being named after Shakespeare play, I dunno maybe.
"Yeah, I'm visiting. Do you live here? Have one of the kids and all?" Tristan asked.
His eyes fell on the cigerette. Oh how he wanted one of those. Unconciously his hands slipped into his pockets, one found his light and the other found nothing, oh how he wanted a cigerette. But no, no he would stay strong. He had stopped smoking a long time ago, he would not lose face now. he was strong.
Even if he did really, really want one.
Carver noticed Tristan's eyes falling on the white cylinder; with an immensely guilty look on his face, he dropped it and stubbed it out with his shoe, then kicked the evidence into a little line of shrubbery.
"I've been trying to quit," he admitted. "For, ahem, three years. I suppose that says a great deal. ... And yes, I just moved in - I don't have my child yet, thank goodness, I've been attempting to childproof my flat. Those little white plug things for sockets, and all."
The other man dropped to his haunches and attempted to scratch Hammie behind the ear. "Hello, little man. I hope nobody around here has a cat called Laertes, or you'll be out of luck."
He straightened up again. "Where are my manners? Carver Johnston - nice to meet you."
Hammie was glad to have the attention, being scratched behind the ears he sat down with a content smile on his face, tounge hanging out of his mouth.
Tristan smiled at the cat comment, not only did it result in the mental image of a cat and dog have a sword fight, but someone else who knew the story of Hamlet made him happy.
"Tristan Kane," the man introduced himself as well, though it was odd to leave his title out of it. For work things it had always been important that he was no mere scientist or lab tech, he was a Doctor. He was trying to get out of work related habits.
Carver gestured to the block of apartments behind him, putting one hand in the pocket of his jeans. "Thinking about moving in yet?"
"Yeah, I was thinking about it. Move in here and take a few week off work to look after the little get when ever I get him... or her." Work, if he could call it that, he was use to work being long hours in a lab now he stood in front of a deep frier all day.
Death to McDonalds.
"The free place to live is nice," Tristan said with a nod. Not like he needed to save money or anything. He didn't even really need to work. The man was set from his previous job. Its not like he made the money to buy his convertable on his McDonalds salery.
"It's refreshing," Carver agreed, just a little bit wry. "I... It's good to settle down; it's a new experience. In my case, anyway. - So do you plan to work while you have your charge?"
He himself hadn't held down a real job in years; it made him feel like a drifter. (That immediately worried him: what a bad role model for his future, ahem, child.)
"A little, anything I can do to get out of work I will. I figure I'll spend at least a week at home with the kid before I start passing him off on other people to look after." He meant anything too. He'd call in sick if he had a bit of a sore throat, saying it could be contegious, and who would argue with him, he is a doctor.
"I need a vaction anyways, getting away from the city is nice. I think I'll like it here."
"It's a nice place," Carver agreed, scrubbing one hand through his hair habitually. "I've never been totally comfortable with cities, myself. I prefer it out in the open. - I suppose you could call me unemployed at the moment, so I'm always open for babysitting duties," he added generously. "Not that I'm much of a parent, I'm afraid."
"Probably better than me," Tristan said with a bit of a laugh, "I've never dealt with kids before, just animals. I'm likely going to carry around a squirt bottle and have my kid on a leash. I've always wanted kids though. I was an only child so I want a big family."
The main problem was he didn't have anyone to make a family with, but that was another problem, one likely to upset the doctor a great deal. He didn't like getting teary eyed in front of people, a stranger seemed like a really bad idea.
"Don't lose hope," said the other man earnestly. "I suppose - love isn't everything, but it does go a long way. I - well, I was an only child myself, but I suppose I was a bit self-centered. I never thought about family or children."
He seemed like he was going to say something else, but then Carver just blew a stray lock of hair away from his nose. "I don't suppose you're staying long enough for a cup of coffee? I managed to dig my kettle out earlier. There's only instant, I'm afraid, but better than nothing."
"I don't have anywhere else to be," Tristan with a smile, "and I'm always free for coffee." It wasnt so much the drink coffee he enjoyed, in fact he really didn't care for the taste, but the social interaction was always great, he'd never turn down a drink with someone else.
Carver relaxed into an easy smile, turning and opening the door so that Tristan - and Hamlet - could follow. "I'm glad. We should probably get to know each other before we have... Well, children on our hands, I think."
And he was grateful as hell for social interaction, as much as Tristan was. They seemed to be a bit both on the quiet side. He didn't care for coffee either - that had been Ama's stuff - but that just also, though he didn't know it, proved they were both martyrs.
Natch.
"Good idea, I don't see myself having much social time after I have a little kid, at least not until they're a teenager." Tristan returned the smile and bent down to pick up his dog. Most people might ask if their animal was allowed in but to a person who loved animals the thought that someone else might not want the puppy around didn't cross his mind and Caver had said nothing about him not bringing the dog.
Hamlet struggled against his owner for a moment before he realized they were moving instead, he sat in Tristan's ares his his tounge lolling out.
Carver laughed a little at that, scratching Hamlet's ears again as he lead the dark-haired man up the stairs: apparently, he'd chosen a top-floor apartment. "I'd say we'd be having less time... if teenagers are anything like how I think they are. I was a good one, myself," he said, ruefully. "I never thought about disobeying my parents."
His apartment was a bomb site of boxes: he pulled two stools to push them up next to the kitchen counter, letting Tristan close the door behind them so that he could rifle through what appeared to be the box-mess meant for the kitchen. There was already a kettle out: he filled it with water and it boiled merrily as he thoughtfully filled a saucer of water for Hamlet. "Milk and sugar? ... You know, it feels like I haven't talked to anyone in an age, so I feel a mite socially retarded and a bit shy, but - why don't you tell me about yourself?"
Tristan laughed a little too. "I was a good kid too. My friends on the other hand, well I had to bail them out of jail at least once and we'll leave it at that." Entering the apartment Tristan manged to close the door with his foot, he wanted to make sure it was closed before he let Hammie down
Hamlet was all to happy to be on the floor again. He liked new places he was a rather adventurous puppy. He admetiately took to exploring, sniffing around all the boxes.
Tristan walked over to the stools and took a seat. "Oh yes, lots of both thank you," he replied to the milk and sugar question but he was taken by surprise when he was asked about himself. He guessed he should have expected it though, they were getting to know each other and that would prove difficult if they didn't talk bout themselves.
"Uh... well I grew up in the country. I've always liked animals. I studied zoology and then mammalogy in school and got my PhD. Uh then... well I worked at a zoo for a bit and then did some work at a lab doing research but then... uh some stuff came up and I had to leave and for a year now I've worked at McDonald's."
"A Ph.D?" Carver looked genuinely interested; he opened the fridge (which contained, apparently, milk, mustard, and half an onion) to get the jug of milk and liberally poured lots into both their cups. Then he looked around for the sugarcubes. "I grew up in the country, too, funnily enough - my father was a farmer. I'm afraid I took to the city too quickly in my teens, though. - The McDonald's part was a joke, though?"
He pushed the cup towards Tristan, giving him a half-smile. "God, I hope that's not offensive. I mean, just - a doctor of mammology working at McDonald's, it sounds like a comedy sketch. Unless you're working in their research department, I suppose, though a friend of mine always said he was skeptical that there were any actual mammals in the food. I always pegged those things more for general chordate."
"Sadly, not a joke. Thats why I plan to take off work when my I get my kid, so I can get away from bugar flippin'. Oh here..." He stopped and looked down at his arm, searching it until he found a little mark and held out his arm to show it carver, "oil burn from the deep frier, one of many. I needed a job, any job really and I just haven't found a new one."
He accepted the cup greatfully but didn't drink it right away, just looked at it as he continued to talk about the horrors that were McDonald's food. "I prefer not to think about whats in the food really, though I do know there is beef fat in the french fries, kinda disturbing but at least you know they're using real animals some where."
"Good lord." Carver looked mildly disturbed, warming his hands with his own mug. "I just... you must get so bored. And that burn looks frankly nasty. Well... You're a brave man, I must say. - I'm glad I haven't eaten there in years."
He sat down on his own stool, opposite Tristan, and took a cautious sip of his coffee. The caffeine was appreciated, anyway. "So what do you do when you're not... burger flipping?"
"I've had worst burns before," Tristan shruged. He picked up the cup, looked at it closer for a second and then took a sip of it at last. "It's good.," he said with a smile before setting the cup down again.
He furrowed his brow as he though about the current question. What did he do in his spare time? Oh, oh! he knew. "Movies, I like movies a lot. They actually fill up most of the boxes of stuff I already have packed. That and read, books being the rest of the boxes." It was almost sad how ture that really was...
"You too?" Carver said ruefully. "I seem to have boxes and boxes of the things; I need to go and buy some more bookcases... I suppose there are worse environments for children to grow up around, than books. I think."
He took another sip of his coffee. The milk and sugar made a big difference. Ama had always made him knock his back black as sin and powerful enough to double as paint-stripper. "I'm no movie buff, but I do like the noir stuff - the good old ones from the thirties and twenties. Ugh, that makes me sound like somebody's grandfather, doesn't it? I'll have to look to you for recommendations. I suppose I can settle down now and do normal things like watch movies. And catch up on my reading."
Carver actually grinned. "See, now you have to be my friend; we can swap books."
"The only problem is my books might not be to interesting. Scientific mumbo jumbo, my thesises, other peoples reasearch, things like that. Its been a long time since I've sat down and read some good fiction," He took another sip of his coffee it was really good. While he couldn't taste anything more than milk and sugar really but it tasted better than the stuff he made. Well that was because he was coffee making impared and always ended up with grinds in it.
"But if you really want to read about animal behaviour in certain circumstances and societies amoung different mammals you can borrow some of my books."
"I have a scientific history of coal and a guide to Chinese political science in my things," admitted Carver. "And those are some of the more interesting ones. - Though I admit it; I also have boxes full of novels, which I'll pass on to you. But I'll read anything, I swear."
Tristan was happy. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed himself in the presence of another person. He didn't see any of his friends from university anymore and after the... unpleasentness at his old job he had been down for a while but he was actually liking this.
"History of coal? Interesting. Like I said if you really want to read one of books your free any time."
Carver knocked back another mouthful of coffee. He had a sinking feeling that he sounded like a fumbling, socially inept teenager, but Tristan was nice enough to make him finally relax. "You're a lifesaver. I thought I was going to be stuck re-reading my old Graham Greenes for a while. Actually, the history of coal is quite interesting, which maybe says a great deal about me... So... Do you need any help with your move? Do call on me when you do. I'm an extra pair of hands, at least."
"I'm glad I could help," said smiling and then drained the rest of his cup of coffee. "I'd love help moving in, I don't think I'll be doing it for a while though, some stuff I have to do before I actually get around to it, but I'll make sure to give you a call."
Hamlet had done his exploring and while he would have liked to do some more the little puppy was getting on the thirsty side. He walked over to the saucer that had been put out for him and started to lap in up greatfully and messily.
Tristan sighed a little watching his dog. "Sorry about him, he's a little slob, I'm surprised he hasn't made a bigger mess yet. He torn apart most of my boxes at home. I had to re pack them a couple times."
Carver leant over to scratch the puppy between the ears as it lapped up the water. "It's what puppies do, I suppose. He's behaved very well for most puppies. - Oh, I should give you my cellphone number, I suppose; if I can remember it. Hold on a second." After more fumbling around, the cellphone was located, and the number written down on a scrap of paper that he passed on to Tristan. "Here you go; now you can reach me, anyway."
Hamlet let out a happy little yip as he was being scratched behind the ears. He was really starting to like Carver, all the attention he from the man.
"Thanks," Trisatan said as he took the number. He paused to look at it before he tucked it in his pocket. "I'd return the favour, I don't have a cellphone thouhg and my other phone will be out of service in a couple nights so it would be really pointless."
Carver finished with a last little chuck underneath Hamlet's chin, and straightened up. "Don't worry about it - you're going to be the one on the move, anyway. I'll just be here when you need me. I'm afraid I'll probably be totally out of sorts and nervous until I get, well... the child."
"I know what you mean, I don't even know if its goning to be a boy or a girl, its got me a little worried," Tristan admitted, "I'm hoping for a boy though. A little girl would be sweet but there is a lot more drama that goes with them when they're older you know. With a boy you can just tell them to suck it up."
He glaced down at his watch, he didn't want to leave but he had other thing that proabably should be done. "well sadly I should probably be leaving, things I have to do now. The coffee was great and it was nice to meet you. I'll give you a call when I do move in."
Carver half-stood and shook Tristan's hand again. "Until then, I suppose. It was nice meeting you. - And we'll probably see more of each other in the future."
When they were saddled with children and had become fathers-by-proxy. Now he felt slightly better - even by way of schadenfreude, which made him feel bad - that somebody else would be going through it and suffering the little children, etc, bumbling about it without ever having been a parent themselves. He smlied at Tristan, warm and sincere.
Obviously they'd both manage.
