My final for fiction Tech.

-The Great Hutt Hawkins-


I was sitting across from Chloe on the wooden deck of Richard's Bar and Grill, wrestling with a slice of grilled chicken. Finally I pinned the little bastard down with the blunt prongs of my fork and masked the delight in a face developed after months of Texas Hold’em. Chloe, holding a knee against her chest, leaned back in her chair. I placed my elbows on the table, to hell with etiquette today.
"How's the chicken?" she asked as she motioned her fork playfully toward my plate.
”Okay," I said in between bites.
"John, come on, really? It looks good."
Chloe’s blonde hair fell passed her slight shoulders. She was wearing a tight fitting blue t-shirt that said 13 going on 30 (I didn’t care for the movie) and a pair of Calvin Klein cuffed cropped jeans. She was beautiful and I was miserable.
"It's okay. If it was good I would say hey, Chloe, you should have a bite of this, but did I say that, no, I didn't."
"I'm just asking," she asked.
"Uh huh," I muttered under my breath.
Chloe lifted a foot in the air, keeping it just above the table and said, “I think I need new shoes John. They’re about as worn out as you.”
I dropped my knife. “They look fine, the shoes I mean.”
“Sure they look fine, but the inside, it’s just falling apart. I got threads of I don’t know what attached to my socks every day.”
I spent an evening with Chloe two weeks ago. It was the first time in a month that we had the opportunity to see each other alone. It took some prodding to get her away from Hutt Hawkins but finally she relented. It got strange though when she started to console me as the previews started in the theatre.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out, between you and Sonya,” She said.
I reached into my box of popcorn. “What are saying, it didn’t work out?”
“I’m saying you two had your moments and it’s a shame to see it come to an end. Am I being clear enough for you? ”
“Please, it’s not a shame, it’s a tragedy, that’s what it is,” I said.
I tossed a couple kernels into my mouth, swallowed them quickly, and continued, “I mean who dies like that. Who gets dropped onto a raging forest fire when they’re scuba diving?”
“Well, if that’s what you want to call it, I remember Sonya calling me one night saying you were acting—lets just call it weird, ” said Chloe as a couple sitting below us glared up in a attempt to quiet us.
“It’s the previews, can you believe this, the hell is wrong with people,” I said.
Pulling a handful of popcorn from my box she added. “She didn’t fall out of a plane John, you scared her off.”
“It was a helicopter; she was dumped from a helicopter,” I said.
“Right, a helicopter was the culprit, now it’s believable.”
We didn’t break up, Sonya died during a freak diving accident, but Chloe won’t listen to me. She sees the world how she wants to see it.
The waiter, a young man with short blonde hair, placed the bill on the table. He joked for a minute with us about a comedian from his home town of St. Paul, Minnesota. I think the comedian’s name was Mitch.
“What’re you doing later,” I asked after the waiter made his return to the kitchen. “Maybe we could catch a movie?”
“So you can cuss at people that shush you, this sounds exciting, I don’t know. I’ll have to see what Hutt wants to do,” She said.
“Well, I think I’m going to head back to my place—you look nice today,” I said.
“John, what’re you doing? I’m trying to help you not strike up another relationship with you. Will you please call Sonya, she’s worried,” she said.
“I’ll let Hutt know that you said hi,” I said.
“Go to hell,” she said.
“Give me time,” I said in return.
A late replay of Sportscenter flickered on the television in my dimly lit living room; it was the highlights of the day. An empty bag of Lays potato was on a shirtless, snoring Hutt Hawkins. A line of chips left a trail from his lips to his gently rising and falling stomach.
“Don’t get worked into exhaustion,” I said as I tossed the remote control in his general direction.
He raised himself awkwardly on one arm. “Where’d I put my shirt?”
I shrugged my shoulders and closed the door, “I can’t tell yea, but I’ll move mountains to find it.”
“Fair enough, how was lunch with my lady?” asked Hutt, “she thinks you’ve gone off and lost your mind.”
Hutt shifted his body again, this time adjusting his body so that he could rest comfortably on his back.
“She told me to go to hell. I think that sums it up well,” I said.
Hutt Hawkins is my older brother. He was a fullback for a couple of seasons in the Canadian Football League as a member of the Toronto Argonauts before injuring his back in a collision during a late night hockey game. He passed the blue line with his head down and the nose tackle lifted him into the air. They said he cleared twenty feet before landing on his back. Last month he moved in with me and this month he’s currently under the impression that Chloe likes him.
“To be honest, I’ve been a little worried myself. I move down here, strike up a relationship with your old flame. It can’t be easy to deal with.”
Rising to his feet, Hutt underwent an elaborate session of stretching, followed by a short burst of moans and a careful round of scratching. I sat on the recliner and turned the knob on the Kenwood stereo, singing under my breath.
“Now Sonya breaks up with you,” said Hutt.
“Sonya and I broke up?”
Sonya held a different view then most; she admired my overall indifference and my complete lack of ambition in life. During trips to the theatre she would regularly yell in a shrill voice, to better spread the word I imagine that her ‘man’ was the greatest living American leader. It is possible she was deranged.
Hutt placed the empty beer can on the table and located a worn shirt on the floor with a picture of a scuba diver on the front.
“What’s the deal with you and Sonya?” he asked.
I tossed him another Bud Light.
“Well, you know how she took a trip out west right,” I said.
“Yeah, scuba diving out in the pacific.”
“Apparently some serious forest fire erupted in California due to a cigarette and one of those helicopters that dump huge buckets of water scooped her.”
“She got dumped?”
“Died on impact and then the fire ran through the woods like some stampeding bull, burned her right to a crisp. They had to use dental records,” I said, gesticulating.
“And you still believe this?” asked Hutt.
He placed another empty can of Bud Light on the table next to his previous can of beer.
“Do you remember telling me the same story last week and the week before?” Hutt asked.
“You’re an angel,” I said and handed him another Bud Light; it was going to be an interesting night.
“You’re a real piece of work John.”
“Me? Why does everyone see the world how they want to see it?”
“I don’t know, I guess we’re all crazy. Anyway, I’m meeting Chloe at Shenanigans tonight, she asked for me to take you with me.”
Chloe was already at Shenanigans. Sitting alone at a table in her favorite position, one knee held tight against her chest. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and to my astonishment we where both doing ‘good.'
“Hutt tells me you have the scuba diving story down pretty good,” said Chloe.

“He doesn’t even have to stop now to collect his thoughts, you remember the first couple

of weeks,” said Hutt.

“He was falling all over himself,” she said.
“No one believes me, it’s a tragedy, not a story and yet you sit here trying to make light of it. Hey, how’s that back of yours, you want to go play hockey after a night of drinking again,” I said.
“Easy little brother.”
“Get some drinks at the bar, will you John,” asked Chloe.
A shot of Yeager, a shot of rum, and a shot of Jack Daniels led me into a meandering discussion with a strangely familiar black haired bar patron.
“How have you been,” the person asked
“Different, not the same as I use to be,” I said.
“I’m sorry things happened like they did,” said the person.
I turned to get a better look; it was a woman with hair like Sonya’s black hair, but the woman had pulled her hair up into a bun instead of letting it fall straight down. Her nose was small and pointed and she was smiling. I could see her eyes, black and angular, and even with that smile, she looked sad.
“You can’t keep on making up stories, you have to face it,” the woman said.
I took another shot of Jack Daniels, savoring the bitterness as it flowed down my throat.
“Jack is a bitter bastard,” I said.
“You remember going to the theatre and laughing as I yelled out how in love I was with you,” the woman said with that somber smile.
“No, that’s what Sonya did, you look like her and I love you for that right now, but no, she died,” I said.
“John, I’m serious, you have to face it. I’ve moved on, but I’m still here.”
“The hell does that mean, I don’t know you but you’re either here or you’re not. There is no in between.”
I looked behind me and noticed that Hutt and Chloe no longer were present.
“You do this every Tuesday John. They’re continuing with their lives, you should do the same.”
“Just who the hell are you, how do you know this—it doesn’t matter.”
The woman looked down and I paid my tab in a haze and fumbled through my wallet for the tip and made my way to Chloe’s apartment. It was a little past one, and standing before her door, I heard music and laughter. Hesitating to enter, I rested my head on the wood paneled frame and listened to their laughter.

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