Cristobal Rodriguez ♦ Coyote (coyoti) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-10-10 09:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | coyote, maui |
the first ingredient in conversation is truth
Who: Kal & Chris.
What: Kal finally gets ahold of Chris to talk about some sensitive subjects.
Where: Chris's apartment.
When: Early Oct. 5.
Chris had the black box holding his mask on his kitchen table; he was sitting next to it, using his cane in favor of his brace, as he carefully held the mask between thumb and forefinger. Just how this exact mask had come into his possession was beyond his knowledge; it made him uneasy, though not as uneasy as the microphone had back in April. He kept telling himself it was just a mask. There was nothing to be worried about.
He was about to rise from the table and begin getting ready for the day when he heard familiar footsteps in the hall. Those were followed by a brief knock, and then his apartment door swung open. Chris had hands on the dining table and chair holding him aloft; he spared Kal a judgemental look as he groped for his cane.
"You know, most people wait until the other person says come in," he commented, shaking his head.
“Then you should have thought to lock your door,” Kal replied easily as he tossed a box onto the dining table and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you, been stopping by but you’re always out when I’m around.” His tone wasn’t necessarily one of annoyance, but a tone that revealed he knew something and Chris knew it too, but that something had yet to be discussed and now...well now they would have to have that discussion, whether Chris wanted to or not.
The prickly feeling of tension immediately filled the room, but Chris did his best to shrug it off. He grasped at his cane, using his other hand to wave at the table for Kal to take a seat, if he so chose. Chris's own brow furrowed as he looked over the box Kal had tossed down.
"Got one, too, huh?" It was less a question than a statement, since he was fully aware of the rows of black boxes in front of every occupied apartment on his floor. He turned away from both dark omens, going to his fridge. "You want a drink?"
“Yeah, get us both a drink, I feel we need it,” Kal said as he took a seat and flipped the lid off of Chris’s box and looking in at the box and yet not touching it, a laugh escaped his lips. “It’s like someone is fucking watching us or something. Have you had the… you know… thing happen again?” He looked at his friend and made a motion with his hand to indicate dog ears.
Chris glanced up long enough to see Kal's mimicry, which made him roll his eyes and duck his head back into the fridge. He made no actual reply until the clinking of beer bottles pre-empted his departure from the ice box; with one hand on his cane, he carefully navigated back toward the table, closing the fridge with a hip bump.
"No, I haven't," he replied hotly, setting the bottles down long enough so he could turn away to retrieve a bottle opener. "And I thought we agreed to never talk about that again." He managed to calm himself enough to slide his junk drawer quietly closed. A renewed seat gave him the chance to open the bottles, and he slid one in Kal's direction; the mouth of his tipped toward the box Kal had brought along before he took a sip. "So what'd you get?"
“Different from yours,” Kal replied, flipping the lid off his own box and nodding at his mask. “Makes me think of Maui, all that water hints and shit. And I haven’t spoken to anyone about your...incident. That’s what’s confusing. It’s like the apartment fucking knows what happened to you.” He looked at both masks with distrust before reaching for the drink Chris brought him and taking a swig.
Chris shook his head, swallowing.
"Yeah, well, maybe someone's just having a joke." His gaze fell on the box holding his coyote mask. Then he leaned forward, putting his beer down as he reached for Kal's mask. He plucked it up, holding it out to the light so that the lamp hanging above his dining table shown through the eye holes.
"Shit, I guess this means you have to go as Ursula the Sea Witch for Halloween. Could pull a whole Colton Haynes if you're feeling up to it." His eyes moved to Kal's face, a smirk edging one side of his mouth.
“And you can be a dalmation, we can keep the Disney theme going,” Kal replied with a smirk, his hand reaching out to shove at Chris’s shoulder for the teasing remark. He was smiling, but something had changed in his expression. Already the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and there was something serious in his gaze. He fell silent, opting to take another sip of his drink as he looked at the boxes on the table. “It’s been awhile since we’ve last talked, braddah. A lot has gone on. I, uh, I broached the assisted living facility to kuku, you know...after her visit to you and Daniel. You’d think with her losing her mind she’d forget about that but instead it’s all she talks about. She thinks Daniel has a great ass, by the way.” He chanced to dart a glance at his friend before looking away again, drink still in hand and ready for another sip.
"Are you trying to segue this into, 'by the by, I'm stealing your boyfriend'?" Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face was fleeting.
"How'd she take the idea of the facility? You know, it really would be the best thing for her. Mom fought me over abuela, and... I'd rather it not go that long for kuku."
“I think if anyone is going to steal your boyfriend, it’ll be kuku,” Kal replied, turning the bottle in his hands and pressing the edge of his nail against the corner of the beer’s label, picking at it lightly. “But...she took it alright, for the main part. She forgets we have the conversation sometimes so then we have to have it again and she goes back and forth between being understanding and fighting me for it. But...whether or not she supports the idea, I’ve been trying to get as much information as possible. Doctors said it may become a case where the state can say she’s a danger to herself and send her to a home too. So…” He shrugged and let out a sigh. “She’s slipping from me, her mind is taking her away from me while she’s still here and...I don’t know, I don’t know how to get it all done in time and without her hating me in the process...or forgetting me.”
"You're doing the right thing." Chris put his beer bottle on the table, fingers circling it. "She might not understand now, but it's the best thing for her. I can get the paperwork about abuela's facility, or, heck, maybe if it helps, Mom and I could help you take her for a visit to one?"
“You know, I think you and your mom would be a big help if you just happened to be at the assisted living facility when I show up there with her. Element of surprise and all that,” Kal replied with a nod but his mood hadn’t brightened much and he still had a heaviness to his normally sunny, loud personality. “She’s the only family I have,” Kal admitted before tilting his head to one side. “I mean, I have some relatives on the islands but they aren’t family like her, and you know my father has never been in the picture, although I hear he’s still stationed here.”
He paused and glanced at Chris, weighing his options and how to move onto the next topic. It was all the same, wasn’t it? These were honest worries that Kal had over his grandmother, honest feelings, and it did tie into what was going on with his friend in one way or another. But Kal was never really good at subtly and now was no different. “Daniel told you he told me about your father, right?”
Chris had just begun to tilt more beer down his throat when Kal lobbied that particular little bomb in his direction. He choked, garbling for a moment as a hand pressed to his lips to keep from spitting up over the table. Wide eyes went to Kal's massive figure, studying the lack of pretension in the other man's face. Chris made a fist, pounded his chest a few times, and finally found he could breathe again.
"Come... come again? He did what?"
Kal’s hand rose to stop Chris from overreacting. “Don’t get mad at him, he was concerned about you and wanted my opinion,” he quickly replied, meeting his friend’s gaze. “And I’m glad Daniel told me, seeing as you hadn’t.”
He paused at this, pressing his lips together before taking in a deep breath that seemed to fill his chest and make him look even larger. “You already know my opinion of your father, so we won’t get into that, so don’t have a panic attack. But, Chris, I am sorry you’ve lost your dad. I’m sorry your relationship with him never came out to be what you had hoped it would be.”
He'd had his mouth half open to continue on a tirade about Daniel's big mouth, but Kal quickly side stepped Chris's anger. Chris dropped his gaze from Kal's, his hand going back around his beer bottle as conflicting feelings played themselves out over his face.
"So I guess you get why I didn't tell you," he finally settled on, glancing at Kal for a moment before taking another swig as his gaze settled fixedly on some point in the living room.
Kal shrugged. “I figured it could be a little bit of everything. You didn’t want to hear me complain about your father and you didn’t want to discuss how your relationship went. I mean, I won’t lie, it hurt to find out from someone that wasn’t you.” Kal carefully kept his eyes on his beer when he stated this, not one to really enjoy ever admitting to hurt feelings and displays of insecurity. “All of that aside though, I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. Your dad wasn’t old, if I remember correctly, so it has to be a surprise he’s gone. It’s not like you’re expecting it or anything at his age.”
Chris sighed; the bottle in his hand rose into the air, allowing him to take another swig before he switched hands and put it back on the table.
"I wasn't expecting anything," he replied, shifting in his seat. "I haven't heard from the asshole in... I think it's been a year that wasn't—" He stopped himself, clearly about to admit something he hadn't intended to. The hand that rested next to the beer rapped fingers on the table top. "We don't have to talk about this," he said, rising to his feet as he reached for his cane.
“Nope, you do,” Kal replied pointedly. “You don’t just start ranting and suddenly feel like not talking, I know you. Anyway, the last time you held in all your feelings you ended up punching me over a girl you thought you had a crush on. So get it out. You haven’t seen your dad in a year? I knew he was flighty but I figured you guys at least, you know, kept in touch or some shit.”
Chris rolled his eyes as he took a few shaky steps forward. "What's there to complain about? I mean, he's dead, so it's, what, one more good riddance? Why do you even give a shit, Kal?" He drifted back into the kitchen, plainly looking for something to do that would circumvent this conversation.
"What're you doing for dinner? I think I have stuff left over for tacos. And Rebelde Way is having a two hour special tonight, I think Roberto's finally gonna come clean about his evil twin or something—"
“Stop with this avoidance bull shit,” Kal said with a sigh, his feet thumping on the ground as he stood up, abandoning his beer to the table and turning toward his friend. “I give a shit because you’re my friend, you’re my family, and I know you well enough to know that your father’s death must sting. It must make you feel something. Sadness, rage, whatever the hell you’re feeling it’s completely normal and completely understandable. But you bottle shit up, you always do, then shit gets out of control.”
Chris had his back turned toward Kal, facing away from him as he'd pulled open a cupboard as though he were going to get necessary pots and pans out to make the previously described dinner. It seemed like he was gearing up to say something more, refute Kal's insistent hypothesis that there was something he needed to let out; instead, suddenly, his shoulders started to shake.
Kal froze in place for a brief moment, registering what was happening with wide eyes. Blinking, he snapped himself out of it and quietly began to move forward with one hand reaching out to grasp Chris on the shoulder. “Braddah, I’m sorry,” he said, the apology possibly applying to one of many things.
"Yeah, aren't we both," Chris replied, his words broken by gasps. A hand came up, wiping his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned, Kal's hand dropping away from his shoulder as it moved, tilting his head up toward the ceiling. "So was this the whole idea? Get me to cry it out?" The words weren't accusatory; if anything, it was merely a jibe. Chris kept sniffling as he leaned back against the counter.
"Yeah, I'm mad. And I'm upset. More that... For reasons we don't need to get into. But... Thanks. I guess," he offered, a teasing lilt to his words. "Seriously, I'll be fine. I don't, I'm not, like... I'm not gonna suddenly explode or fall apart, OK? I know this," he waved his cane, motioning to his leg, "makes me seem like I'm more fragile than I am, but I'm not, OK? Seriously."
Kal shook his head and a smile filled with something like pain crossed his face as he brought a hand to his forehead and back over his hair. “I’ve never thought you were fragile because of your fuckin’ leg, Chris. If anything, you’re more dangerous because of it.” The truth of his words were a little more than he had intended to share, but it was out nonetheless. Chris had changed when he was injured, he became less emotional, more closed up, and through his silence he was dangerous. Plus he knew how to wield his cane if he wanted to.
Kal tried again, a hand moving as he spoke. “Chris, I just… want you to know you can talk to me about it. Whatever you’re hiding about your father you can tell me about. He’s gone now, what harm will it do?”
The other man remained silent for a beat, studying his friend's face. Clearly, the simple question Kal had asked rendered an answer that Chris wasn't sure he wanted to hear.
"Not much," he finally replied, choosing to refrain. "That's why it's not important. But I appreciate it, Kal. I really do. You and Daniel will both give me a heart attack before I'm forty because yah both think I don't feel enough." He grinned, the expression far more sincere than it might have been previously. He put a hand back to the counter.
"So do you want those tacos or not?"
Kal studied Chris’s face for a moment, considering to push his questions further along or not, but ultimately seemed to settle. With time, perhaps, he’ll get his friend to talk. Instead of pressing further, Kal smiled. “Yeah, get the tacos out, let’s watch some awful soap operas. You want some weed? I can run across the hall and get it; make the show extra interesting.”
Chris rolled his eyes, drawling something in Spanish about how a good telenovela didn't need assistance, but he ended up nodding.
"Sure," he replied, getting a pan out and setting it on the stove to heat. "Things definitely aren't ridiculous enough in those shows. I'll leave the door unlocked, so just let yourself in."
Kal’s grin turned devilish and he immediately headed for the door. “Be back in a minute,” he called cheerfully over his shoulder, already through the apartment door with it closing behind him. For the moment, all concerns of aging or dead relatives pushed to the side in favor of a blissful high.