|
|
Post by Don't Ask on Apr 21, 2009 18:21:36 GMT -5
Don't Ask tackled the dog, wrestling the papers out of Horseshoe's mouth and throwing the shredded, soggy sections back on to the bench.
Hanging on to the dog's bandanna, he pulled the paper he'd bought earlier from Dutchy out of the back of his pants, rolled it up and bopped Horseshoe lightly on the nose. "Bad dog. Don't eat the papers."
Horseshoe snorted in response, then sneezed, sighed, and laid down again, panting.
Still on his knees and clinging to the dog, Don't Ask surveyed the damaged paper on the bench, Pup still rolling on the ground and giggling, and looked up to Dutchy with an embarrassed grin.
"Er... trade?" he offered, holding out his folded and slightly muddy, but otherwise intact newspaper.
|
|
|
|
Post by dutchy on Apr 22, 2009 19:32:25 GMT -5
"What for?" Dutchy shrugged, picking up a destroyed piece of headline. But, he smiled. Two cents worth of fun. Besides that he'd gotten two new friends, more or less. Three if you counted the dog. Besides the kid seemed to be having the time of his life. "Can't sell these..."
If he had been really desperate he'd have sold the last one with the most pieces and high-tailed it when the costumer figured out they'd been cheated. If he were stravin' for food desperate. He'd never been that desperate. Not even during the strike, which drained most kids out of their savings and then some. Dutchy would have to wait a while longer to properly look for his family.
Rolling up the pieces of left newspaper and picking up the shredded pieces, he glanced over thoughtfully to Don't Ask. "What did you say your name was? Your real name?" He added quickly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Don't Ask on Apr 22, 2009 20:09:35 GMT -5
"What for?"
"You sure? Well... okay." Don't Ask shrugged and tucked the paper into the back of his pants again.
"What did you say your name was? Your real name?"
For some reason, this question threw Don't Ask for a loop. There was just barely the most subtle hint of importance in Dutchy's voice that Don't Ask picked up on, an importance that almost led Don't Ask to divulge his real name, his birth name, the name he hadn't spoken aloud in two years.
But Don't Ask caught himself. He was compensating, surely. He'd met someone new, and had had some fun, and maybe he wanted to have someone he could spills his secrets to, but he wasn't foolish enough to think he'd found that person. Not yet, anyway. And maybe not ever. Horseshoe held his secrets, and that should be enough.
"Uh... Zbigniew," he said, swallowing. "Zbigniew Urosin." He stood, content now that Horseshoe had worn himself out, and wasn't likely to lunge for the papers again or take off for the pond after another frog. He smiled, an awkward smile intended to shift the spotlight. "Now, fair's fair, I tell you mine, you tell me yours. You got a real name, Dutchy?" The air-quotes around his name were obvious in his tone.
He leaned around Dutchy, looking to where Pup was recovering from the excitement. "How about you, little man? We're swapping names here, you want in? Betcha got a good one, huh?"
|
|
|
|
Post by pupdawkinseitz on Apr 22, 2009 21:44:01 GMT -5
"How about you, little man? We're swapping names here, you want in? Betcha got a good one, huh?"
Pup got off the ground, and bounced over to them. Taking off his hat and revealing some very light blonde hair that was somewhat hidden under his black cap. He nodded and then shrugged, he wasn't sure if his name was all that great. It wasn't long and unique like Zbigniew.
"Stuart Dawkins Sei...Dawkins, Stuart Dawkins," Pup stammered quickly at the end, his eyes lighting up in fright as he realized he had begun to say his real last name. He had been laughing and having so much fun, he had almost just flat out told them the secret he was trying so hard to keep. He shied slightly, his smile fading and he looked down at his shoelaces again, wiping at his runny nose.
|
|
|
|
Post by dutchy on Apr 22, 2009 23:56:08 GMT -5
((LOLZ I never gave Dutchy a name!! I gave his sister a first name, but that was it!!))
"Peter Westerveldt," Dutchy announced, though nearly as shyly as Pup it would seem, but he was still more curious to know about Urosin. Putting the rolled up newspaper in his back pocket he moved closer to Pup, musing the kids hair a bit as teasing older boys did. "Well, Pup, you win. For most normal name at least. Don't Ask gets the prize for most hard to pronounce."
He turned his attention to Don't Ask then, "With a name like that..." Dutchy licked his lips. At worst, Don't Ask could give him the same look the kid and the dog might give him. At best... He wouldn't have to only speak to old lady Ganesvoort just to keep practice. Not that he minded. She was nice to him. But her memory was failing and he had to hear the same old stories over and over.
"Spreekt u het Nederlands?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Don't Ask on Apr 23, 2009 12:06:07 GMT -5
((I knew you hadn't! XD Just trying to keep you on your toes--good name, btw!))
"Stuart Dawkins Sei...Dawkins, Stuart Dawkins."
"Well," Don't Ask placated, "I bet you didn't have trouble learning how to spell that one, though, huh?"
"Peter Westerveldt."
"Huh," Don't Ask said quickly, musingly. "I knew a Westerveldt in Yonkers. Georgio Westerveldt, I think he was. Old man, very old. Didn't talk a lot."
"With a name like that... Spreekt u het Nederlands?"
Don't Ask stared at him for just a moment, then grinned broadly.
"Ik vroeg me af of dit zou komen! Ja, ik ben. Denkt u?" He gave a little sheepish roll of his eyes and grinned in a self-deprecating manner, scruffing the hair over one ear. "Er, natuurlijk. België of Nederland?"
His eyes flitted to Pup for a moment, and he realized that the chances the boy spoke Dutch, too, were pretty slim, and they were leaving him out of the conversation entirely because of it.
"Er, my grammar is probably horrible. Sorry, my parents encouraged my English over my moedertaal. But we spoke Nederlandse at home. I haven't used it here in months, though."
(("Ik vroeg me af of dit zou komen! Ja, ik ben. Denkt u? Er, natuurlijk. België of Nederland?" = "I was wondering if this would come up! Yeah, I do. Do you? Er, obviously. Belgium or Holland?"))
|
|
|
|
Post by dutchy on Apr 23, 2009 13:08:56 GMT -5
Dutchy grinned, then shrugged, a little uncomfortable, "Holland. I think. My father always said we were Americans now... I came over here when I was pretty young, I remember the boat..."
Dutchy glanced to Pup, having moved back to English because of the boy.
|
|
|
|
Post by pupdawkinseitz on Apr 23, 2009 16:52:31 GMT -5
"Well, Pup, you win. For most normal name at least. Don't Ask gets the prize for most hard to pronounce."
Pup nodded, still toying with his shoelaces. He sighed and sniffled, moving over to sit by Horseshoe as the older boys talked in a language Pup didn't understand. He petted the dog's soft fur. He really liked the dog, as he stared at it, he realized if there was anything he really wanted, it was a dog. Dogs stuck with you when nobody else did. They understood you, and protected you. At least if he had a dog he wouldn't feel so alone. He had had a little stray kitten for awhile, but it often threw fits, and eventually ran away. Cats didn't understand and love the way Dogs dig, even if they were just as smart.
He was stroking the dog's ears, a wistful look on his little face. He had drifted in his thoughts, thinking about his Mother for the first time in the months he had left home. He had always thought she was pretty, and her smile was beautiful, just never aimed at him. He rubbed at the faded bruises on his arms, sighing softly. He still didn't understand. It wasn't his fault. He had never done anything to make her hate him.
Pup heard their conversation move back into english, and saw that Dutchy was glancing at him, and gave them both a small shy smile. He didn't want them to see that anything was bothering him. He continued to pet the dog.
|
|
|
|
Post by Don't Ask on Apr 23, 2009 17:27:20 GMT -5
The kid had a way of fazing himself out of conversations, as though he felt he didn't belong. But Don't Ask couldn't really blame him--he was seventeen, Dutchy looked to be thereabouts, too, and the kid was, what, seven? Maybe eight? If he'd found himself with a pair of almost-men when he was that age, he'd probably have stayed pretty tight-lipped and unobtrusive, too.
Don't Ask took a seat on the bench, above Horseshoe's back, trying to draw Pup back into the conversation by positioning him between Dutchy and himself.
"Holland. I think. My father always said we were Americans now... I came over here when I was pretty young, I remember the boat..."
"Yeah, my pa says the same thing." He put on a deep Eastern European accent and waved his arms dismissively, "Ve cum to de is-land, dey taking our names unt our births, dey say 'Velcome to Emerica,' I say 'It is pleasure to be here,' we go unt haf apple pies and chees-burgers unt sing de Star-Spannered Bangle. Ve art Emericans."
Dropping the imitation of his father, he chuckled. "It was just my pa, my ma and my brother who had their feet on the boat, though--from Belgium, by the way. I didn't come for another couple months. I was born here, so I guess that makes more of a citizen or something? I don't know. My pa was very proud of that when I was growing up."
The accent came back. "You, mijn kind, you are de true Emerican! You, dey can never tell 'Go back home! You do not belonging here!' You can say 'I are so belonging here, I have certificate of birth!' Oh yes, you moeder, you broer, even you papi, we all cannot say dat much. All we can be saying is 'I are so belonging here, de man at the is-land is saying so!' which is true, because you papi never tell lies. But is not good as having de certificate of being birthed here. You is lucky one, never forgetting."
Don't Ask settled back, smiling at the memory of his proud and happy father. He hadn't gotten to see too much of him in the later years when he lived at home. Too often, it was his overworked and frustrated father he saw. He hoped that with one less mouth to feed, his father was able to be proud and happy more often; he had almost saved up enough money to buy a train ticket back to Yonkers to visit them again and find out.
((Good god, I was in a mood to write... Sorry for the monologue, I just started and couldn't stop! XD ))
|
|
|
|
Post by dutchy on Apr 25, 2009 13:23:20 GMT -5
Dutchy listened, a small smile on his face which grew and he didn't chuckled a little at Don't Ask's imitation of his father. He had no stories like that to tell. He couldn't even remember much of his father. He remember his father worked all the time. His mother and sister worked from home, his sister teaching him to read and write, in Dutch and English. And then his mother taking over, and still having to work. He would sit on the floor by himself instead of with Sabien. He could hear her coughing from her bed behind the curtain.
Dutchy nodded, "You papi," he mimicked, then back to his own voice, "sounds like a nice man... You live with them?"
He liked Don't Ask and liked the idea of his father very much. He let his imagination run wild for a moment, going to visit Don't Ask's family for dinner or something and his father grabbing Dutchy into a big hug just for being Dutch-born and a friend of Don't Ask. Talking in Dutch with an entire table and actually eating a meal like his own mother would cook. He imagined Don't Ask's father telling Dutchy how much he looked like a pretty young woman who lived just down the street. How the girl used to be very sickly, and had grown so sad and worried when her parents had to give her little brother away because of her. And how much they all missed him and why they never came back to get him...
|
|
|
|
Post by Don't Ask on Apr 25, 2009 23:13:36 GMT -5
"You papi sounds like a nice man... You live with them?"
Don't Ask shook his head.
"No, not anymore." He stalled for a minute by fishing out another cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting it. "Things were getting tight at home, so I left to lighten the load. My brother, he's a little..." He whistled a mimic of a cuckoo's call and twirled a finger in a circular motion near his ear. (Horseshoe lifted his head at the whistle, but went back to panting in Pup's ear when he saw his master wasn't addressing him.) "You know? They have their hands full keeping up with him."
He took a drag off his cigarette and tilted his head back to blow the smoke upward. "I still see them, though. They're just up in Yonkers. I visit whenever I can get away for a while."
He stopped to watch Horseshoe as the dog got up and plodded wearily toward the pond again, in case it was time for another froggy intervention, but the dog only lowered his head to the water and lapped up a drink, then wandered to a nearby tree to take care of some business.
"Anyway, yeah, not living with my family. I'm living in the smithy, actually. A loft over the forge. I'm apprenticing to be a blacksmith." He flicked the tip of his cigarette alongside the bench, depositing the spent ashes on the ground, and looked back to Dutchy. "How about you? You with your parents?"
Another drag, and he nudged Pup with his leg. "What about you? Where do you call home?"
|
|
|
|
Post by pupdawkinseitz on Apr 26, 2009 12:56:48 GMT -5
Pup listened contentedly to the older boys talk, interested to hear their pasts. He grinned at Horseshoe playfully when he kept panting in his ear and shoved him playfully away, a big grin on his face. Pup loved dogs.
Pup was surprised that Don't Ask actually still saw his folks, most kids on the street didn't give a hoot about where their families were, or some longed for them but couldn't.
Pup looked up in surprise when Don't Ask nudged him with his boot and asked about his home.
"Well, I guess I live at the lodging house...but it ain't like a real home, but I've never lived in a real home, so I guess it doesn't matter..." Maybe Pup was feeling bold or something, and he mumbled as he looked down at his bruises, "At least at a lodging house I don't get beaten all day long"
Pup shrugged and picked at the grass, he didn't like mooching about his past, he was just so sick of keeping it in. He let the silence settle for a moment until he didn't like it and spoke up, wanting to change the subject. "How'd you get Horseshoe, Don't Ask? Do you like dogs Dutchy? I like dogs..."
|
|
|
|
Post by dutchy on Apr 26, 2009 15:24:47 GMT -5
"Yeah, dogs are great," Dutchy smiled to the kid, even bending down to pet Horseshoe. He looked to Don't Ask, answering his question, "My father left me at the Lodging House when I was about eight or so... My sister was sick, so... One less mouth to feed." Better to have them think he was bitter than heartbroken. Then, "Sorry about your brother."
"I have a feeling Horseshoe found Don't Ask. Or maybe Don't Ask saved him from some terrible fate..." Dutchy smirked to Pup.
|
|
|
|
Post by Don't Ask on Apr 26, 2009 23:23:48 GMT -5
"How'd you get Horseshoe, Don't Ask?"
"I have a feeling Horseshoe found Don't Ask. Or maybe Don't Ask saved him from some terrible fate..."
"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far," Don't Ask chuckled as the dog returned. "Unless you consider life without newspapers to shred a terrible fate. He was a stray who hung around the butcher shop and drove the butcher crazy. He kept trying to sneak into the freezer to gnaw on the carcasses when no one was looking. The butcher was chasing him out of the store with a broom when I was walking by, and he ran right between my legs and knocked me over. I wasn't very fond of him for that--I landed in the street, and my elbow went right into a pile of horseshit. But he followed me back to the smithy, and hung around the shop for most of the day. Purdy--Bill Purdy, the blacksmith I apprentice with--told me to get rid of him, but I said he was just a stray and wouldn't hang around long anyway.
"And then, during the day, we were forming horseshoes for Purdy to take with him to the tracks, and I was working at forge, heating the iron rods, and he was at the anvil shaping the shoes, and we turned at just the wrong time and bumped into each other. He's kind of a big guy, and I'm kinda not, so I stumbled forward and knocked against the barrel we were using as a table, and the sack of horseshoe nails fell off and scattered all over the floor. He wasn't happy about that, but we didn't have time for me to stop and clean it up, so he had me gather enough to get us through the day and I would pick up the rest when we got back. And we left for the tracks, and did our thing with the horses, and I forgot all about the stray that had followed me home.
"But when we got back, every nail had been pushed into a neat little pile in the middle of the floor, and there sat the dog right behind it, grinning up at me and thumping his tail. Purdy never said anything else about him, so I didn't see a need to chase him out, and after I started feeding him, he hung around all the time. And I named him Horseshoe, since he likes bringing me the horseshoe nails."
Don't Ask shrugged and took another puff on his cigarette. "Now I don't know what the hell I'd do without him. We look after each other, you know? I feed him and give him a warm place to sleep, and he keeps people from hassling me too much. He's got a hell of a snarl on him when he's got a mind to do it." He reached down and scratched Horseshoe behind the ears, eliciting a happy grunt from the dog. "He's a good boy."
|
|
|
|
Post by dutchy on Apr 27, 2009 16:11:02 GMT -5
((LAWLZ "Yeah, dogs are great." I can only read that and hear Joe/Brian Henson!))
and my elbow went right into a pile of horseshit.
Dutchy broke into a laugh, but covered his mouth and managed not to interrupt the story too much.
"He's a good boy."
"Yeah," Dutchy chuckled, petting the dog's body. "Dogs are good and loyal. We had a stray cat when I was little. Suppose he left too when my sister got sick... She loved him though..." He shrugged, frowning, "Don't remember what she called him, but, boy was he ugly. Rusty orange and looked like his face had been shut in a door. Hated me."
|
|
