Chapter 114. Hank Schillinger Makes a Friend
Admittingly, the booze here is quite good, and now that Andy has shut up somewhat about that hippy shit, Hank can almost say he sorta kinda likes it here.
“Hey remember when we both wanted our own rooms so badly, and Dad finally let me have the storage closet? It was a shithole - only the bed fit and I still had to keep my stuff in the bedroom we shared - but it felt like the most awesome thing ever at the time…”
“Then we both got sick of it in less than a week,” Hank finishes the sentence.
“Batman comics just weren’t the same looking at them alone past bedtime.” They almost say this together again.
They laugh.
Hank wonders if he’ll ever get back to A, but he doesn’t want to leave without his bro. They got close over the last weeks, and now he feels that he missed having a brother. He doesn’t want to lose it again. If only Andy could see how wrong he is.
“You remember when we went on that camping trip with Gramps? The one where we saw that bear… that was really nice, we had a really good time… Sometimes, I ask myself: Why can’t we just go back to that time?”
“I guess we had some good times with Gramps… before the drugs and all that other shit we landed ourselves into,” Andy sighs.
“So why don’t we go back?”
“Because that doesn’t make it right what he and Dad did. And the stupid bullcrap they taught us,” he says before turning his back to him.
“You suck, you know that?”
“Whatever.” And then the asshole pulls the only blanket they have away.
He wakes up the next morning to a fit coughing and the bed shaking. Andy sits there, snot dripping down his nose, his eyes teary and those fat cheeks all red and puffy. His skin feels too warm against his.
Great, whatever he has, Hank hopes he doesn’t catch it, too.
“Gotta get breakfast,” Another fit of coughing. “Before nothing is le-he-” A sneeze. Hank watches the snot spray in all directions as his brother wipes his nose.
“I’m getting breakfast, you can stay in bed, man… just don’t come near me with that”
The cafeteria is busy. He groans. Busy means more waiting. Eggs, sausages and fried vegetables. He takes a sip from the orange juice. Maybe get two of those, so Andy gets better faster. Their mom always squeezed fresh oranges for them when they were sick, but that from concentrate stuff will have to do. Better than the shit dad bought after she was gone anytime.
He notices loud laughing a few tables further. Keenan and some of his friends are sitting there, drinking and apparently having a really nice time.
Man, he would really like to join them. He likes his brother and all, but it’s been a while since he had any friendly talks with anyone who isn’t connected to Andy. And the bitching he gave him after he saw him talking with Ryan… man, that was so annoying.
Why do they hate Keenan anyway? What does it bother Andy and him if those Mick-fucks have beef with him? But that’s Andy, he guesses. Big bro may like to put on airs, but eventually, he’ll always need someone to follow around.
Keenan seems to have caught his stare - damn. Hank braces himself for the verbal backlash he’s expecting to follow - but Keenan just smiles.
“Hey, O’Sheen! Come sit with us!” Keenan calls him to him. He looks down on the tray. Seems like Andy will have to wait a bit. He’s sure it’ll be edible cold, too.
“How are you liking our block?” Someone puts a beer in front of him. He takes a sip. Tastes good.
“It’s alright, I guess”
“Ah, yeah, that’s because you always hang with these lame fucks. Gotta stay with us, that’s where the party is!” Keenan laughs and puts an arm around his shoulders. What’s all the fuss about, Hank wonders. Guy really doesn’t seem so bad.
“Look, I know they talk a lot of shit about us, but they are just sour because we tried to take a part of the brewery… I mean, it belongs to the whole block, and they want to keep it just to themselves… that’s just unfair, isn’t it? We are part of the block too, after all.”
Hank nods. Makes sense - not that he cares too much. But he feels that they really weren’t honest about Keenan with him. Guy seems actually quite decent.
“Want another beer, O’Sheen? And then let’s talk a bit about the O’Reilys and those two drunken assholes…”
A week later, Andy is fine again. The OJ Hank got him daily seems to have really helped - Mom knew best, after all. He stretches out. New sheets - finally. Andy is always so tight with his money, but after sweating through them like a pig he agreed to get a second set, for “the most throat-cutting-price I’ve ever agreed to pay.” Feels like heaven to him. The blankets all warm and soft and fresh, and Andy is out getting them food. He’s starting to enjoy this. Being lazy always was one of his favorite past times, after all.
He’s just about to doze off when the cell-door being slammed open makes him jerk up. Andrew is standing there, huffing, his fat cheeks flushed.
“Hank! Get up, leave everything, we’re going!”
“What? I’m not leaving all my stuff here! The sheets!” He pulls them closer. He’s not leaving without them.
“Forget the sheets, we need to leave NOW!” Andy’s voice has risen up a few notches.
“Why? Are the others here? Come on, why can’t we just stay?” Dad will be bitch for a while, but he’ll get over it, Hank’s sure. He doesn’t get why Andy can’t just let go of his shit. Man.
“Please, Hank, we need to GO!”
There’s a certain desperation in his voice that makes Hank feel uncomfortable. Damn. Well, if it’s that important to him… he guesses he can go with him and convince Andy to go back to A voluntarily when he’s ready. Better that than force him to stay and watch him get himself in trouble because he still has all these stupid ideas. He jumps out of the bed, gathers some of the most important things on the blanket - the pillows, the toiletries, his clothes, the dirty sheets from the laundry-basket - and wraps them up. Andy looks at him, impatience all over his face. He already got his jammies rolled up and tucked under his arm.
“Please, Hank, we don’t have much time!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts while putting his shoes on.
They escape through a narrow corridor somewhere in the back of the brewery. It’s damn cold in his night-slacks, and it takes way too long until Andy finally stops and takes a few moments for some deep breaths.
“Okay...genius...now where exactly...are we...going with this?” Hank manages to choke out between gasps for air.
“Q...next stop’s...”
Damn.The fag-block. Hank is regretting this already.