Ryan Spooner
By Calichusetts
- 608 reads
Ryan Spooner
Two old men.
Saturday.
Afternoon.
November.
Winchester.
Massachusetts.
Assisted living.
TV room.
Bruins game.
“Mark, who’s that new guy again?”
“Which?”
“You know, the new—that guy, right there. 51. What’s his name again?”
“Oh. Who? Spoonah?”
“Right. Yeah. Thazzit. Spoonah.”
“Ryan Spoonah.”
“Ryan Spoonah. Right, right. Thazzit.”
Silence. TV drones on softly. Red Wings score. The two emit slight groans.
“You know, Patrick, speakinah spoons, Hazel, she ah—she got that—whachacallit—that antique spoon set, you know, she order’d on Emmzahn—Christ knows I never figgered out howta use that thing—but, yeah, you know, that lighthouses of Kyape Ann antique spoon set she’s been wannin’. Yoghta come by our room and check it out sometime. You’d like it.”
“Now, see, I’d never wanna spoon set like that.”
“Why not?”
“It’d be a constant reminder—constant daily reminder—that all those damned lighthouses are just a twunny minute drive away yet these nurses think we too damn immobile to see ‘em anymore. Nah, if I’se gonna get a spoon set, it’d be one of someplace fah off.”
“Fah off?”
“Yeah, you know like… like ‘Gyptian pyramids or somping… Romanian castles, I dunno… some place I knew I’se never gonna get to anyway.”
“I went to Romania once.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure, I’m sure. Cause you just been everywhere.”
“Well, I mean—you know, I got around some.”
“Yeh, lucky you. I never got ‘round ‘nywhere.”
“Yeah you did.”
“Oh yeh? Then tell me why I never been outta the country. Not once!”
“You’ve been outta the country!— You—“
“—Not once!—“
“—Yeah, y’ave. Your mem’ry’s goin’. You remember when we were in high school, the class trip we took to Iyahland, to Dublin.”
“Naw, see, that ain’t count—“
“—you got to visit your ancestral home in, ah, where was it, got to visit your ancestral home in Kilkenny an’ everything.”
“Naw, see, that ain’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Class trip. As in, not on my own. Never gotta do what I wannid to do.”
“The heck you’re talking ‘bout? The principal was really kind and took us both and four other students to see our ancestral homes, for Christ sake—“
“It was Catholic school, for cryin’ out loud! Catholic school, in Ahlington, in ninety fotty nine! Only kid in that school wh’wasn’t Irish was that Fabio Cespulla from the Nahth End.”
“Still. Still. Most schoolmasters, back then, they’ouldn’t’ve gone outta their way like that.”
“Mahk, the principal’s family was from Kilkenny, too! He prob’ly had some second cousin once removed he fucked there or som’ping.”
“The principal—“
“He was from Kilkenny, too!”
“He wasn’t from Kilkenny. His family was from Belfast. We never even went to Belfast on that trip.”
“Well, I’m just sayin’… I never got ‘round anywhere on my own. You, on the udder hand, you’ve been to Rome, Paris, Tokyo, on African suhfahrer… in aidy-two years you’ve been lotsa places. In aidy-two years I’ve been nowhere.”
“Naw, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t’ve if you wanted to be—“
“Doncha think I did?! Rose’s dyin’ wish was to go out West. I never got her there. I never got myself there. Blew all my money payin’ a crushing mortgage, cause all I ever worked for was the Municipal Gas and Light Depahtment.”
“Oh, c’mon now, you’re bringing us both down. C’mon, let’s settle down now and watch the game, the B’s have a power play goin’.”
“YOU! on the other hand, oh, you were smaht enough to get into Yale—“
“—now, Patrick, I only went there two years—“
“You spent twenty-eight years as a Sleckman. Twenty-eight years! Don’t know why everybody kept on re’lecting ya, you were always such a bean-countin’ prick ‘bout everythin’ anyway.”
“Hey, man, this bean-countin’ prick’s bean-countin’ saved the Town of Ahlington from bankruptcy more’n’once—“
“Oh’d’ja look at that! Mr. HUMBLE decided to show up!”
“I’m just stating facts, Patrick, come on, simmer down now.”
“Why don’cha state your goddam facts to those ‘Gyptian pyramids.”
“Well, they had better list’nin ears than you do!”
Silence. The Bruins’ power play is killed off. The two say nothing.
“Actually, Patrick, I’m glad y’brought that up, that whole trip to Egypt we took, ‘cause I gotta take Hazel to the doctor soon to get ‘er hip checked.”
“Whaddus Egypt gotta do with her hip?”
“Well, y’remember, she dislocated her hip on that trip. Ate too much shwarma from the bazaah and fell and dislocated it when she tried to get up’n take a dump at night. I take ‘er in for checkups every now’n’then to make sure it’s still level. Haven’t done that in a while. I should.”
“Oh, yeh, I’ve seen that myself. Yeh, that hip o’ hers is kinda wonky.”
“I know, I worry ‘bout her quite a lot.”
“Plus she got that mole on ‘er uh… on ‘er uh…”
Mark gazes at him bewildered.
“On ‘er uh… ahem. You know. She got that mole.”
“How… the fuck … you know ‘bout that mole?”
“You told me ‘bout it!”
“I have never, not once, told you ‘bout Hazel’s mole.”
“Yeah, y’have! C’mon, now, you’re just getting senile. Y’just don’t remembah.”
“I’d motherfucking remember if I’d ever told you about her motherfucking mole, and I know sure as hell I never have. I know sure’s the sun’s gonna rise tomorrow that she never told you ‘bout that mole, eithah.”
“Who says she couldn’t’ve told me ‘bout her mole? Y’don’t proctah every single conversation that I have with ‘er.” “Y’know when she got that mole? August. And y’haven’t even been by since July.” “Sure I have. You’re just senile. You just don’t remembah.”
Tense silence. Dennis Seidenberg gets into a fight with Danny DeKeyser. The two say nothing.
“Patrick.”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“YOU MOTHERFUCKING KNOW WHEN WHAT!”
Tenser silence. Zdeno Chara gets flipped over by Tomas Tatar and heads to the locker room in pain. The two say nothing.
“Mahk.”
“Yeah?”
“Two.”
“Two?”
“Two months ago.”
“Oh.”
“Yeh.”
“Guess – I dunno, with Rose gone, I just – I dunno. I motherfucking dunno.”
“Yeh, no, Rose, she was, uh, good people, but, uh… that doesn’t mean you, uh… you know, you just, that’s no excuse for something like that.”
“I know. I know it isn’t.”
“How many times?”
“Once.”
“You enjoy it?”
“It was okay.”
“It was okay?”
“It was okay.”
“Why, uh… what were the, uh… the circumstances.”
“Sugar. She needed sugar.”
“Ah. And you… did you kind of throw yourself at her?”
“Nah, I was just like… I was d’pressed, like… it was, uh, the anniversary of when Rose… you know.”
“Mhm.”
“Can I say something?”
“Yeh?”
“Hazel’s the salt of the earth. Just the absolute salt of the motherfucking earth. I was just as surprised as anybody…”
“Yeh, well…”
"I know it doesn’t make you feel better, but, I just said something suggestive, was kind of half joking anyway, but… whadderya gonna do, you know? Instinct just… took over. I just wanted
something o’ yours, once, I guess.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, I don’t think you did want something of mine.”
“What then?”
“Something of yours, maybe. You wanted something of yours.”
“Hm. Maybe you’re right.”
“Yeh.”
“Yeh.”
Silence.
“Patrick?”
“Yeh.”
“Who’s that new guy again?”
“Which?”
“You know, the new—right there, numbah 51. Whassis name again?”
“Uh… Spoonah?”
“Right, yeah, thazzit. Spoonah.”
“Ryan Spoonah.”
“Ryan Spoonah. Right, that’s his name.”
“Yeah… Ryan Spoonah.”
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Hello Calichisetts - I
Hello Calichisetts - I enjoyed this - it has real merit as a piece of dialogue. Quite a lot is lost though with the strain of having to sound out the New England accent in my head - I'm sure it's much easier for someone who lives there - it makes for painfully slow reading for someone who doesn't though. I like the way in which the conversation comes full circle with the repeition at the end. Hope you find my points helpful, and do post more here soon. Welcome to ABCTales!
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