The first time Neil and Freddy met was years ago, when Neil was living in London and working at the BBC, on the television show, Much Ado. Freddy's shop was on Oxford Street, and Neil had stumbled upon it quite by accident, looking for Christmas presents. His Tale sense told Neil that Freddy was also a Tale, though he had never remembered seeing him writing on the compendiums. It took several years for the reclusive Frederick to open up and be friends, but after that, Neil would come by all the time to hang out at Fred's, eating his tea cakes. It was one of the things Neil missed about moving to the United States, but with Freddy now in New York City, it was like old times
( ... )
Freddy couldn't help but laugh at Neil when he both signed and talked at the same time. If it'd been anyone else, he'd have been very offended at the gestures because it would have made him feel like the person thought he was too dumb to understand one or the other. He was strung across one couch, his long legs stretching out with his bare feet hanging off the end. "Because more Tales are here. I am trying to get out more," he signed back, going very slowly since his own motor functions were suffering from alcohol impairment.
He doubted very much he'd go out as much as his parents had wanted him to. They were scared for their son, how he was so shut in, and they just wanted him to come out of his shell more, given his age. So they'd paid for him to come to the United States, even though Freddy had the means to pay for himself. His eight siblings had gone on to have families and lives, why should he let one small thing like his deafness make him such a hermit?
The sign for 'Tale' was one which they had to come up themselves: the sign for 'story', followed by the sign for 'person. Glancing sideways at Fred, Neil looked dubious. "You wrote that in the compendium (sign language: magic; book). I'm glad for you, but it's such a big change! This is your first step, coming to America. Who... (oops wrong sign) ... what are you going to do to get out more? Join a gym?"
Neil smirked, indicating to Fred he was making a joke, but that didn't mean he wasn't wondering what things his friend was going to do to 'get out more'. Coming to America was just a beginning - if Fred decided to continue being a hermit, then he might as well have never left England.
Fred gave Neil a funny look at first, "Do you think I need to lose weight?" Then he patted his stomach, not that he was fat at all. The man, for being sheltered, was fairly lean, almost sinewy underneath his clothing. The joke had been a little lost in translation with the two of them as intoxicated as they were.
"I do not know. I read a lot. Maybe a book club or the park. I do like to go out and watch people," he signed. He'd have to use the computer to look into different avenues around the city. He could go to a Broadway play, even if he couldn't hear it, he could enjoy the spectacular visuals.
"We both could use a little exercise," Neil replied, considering the state of his body and how important it was to keep fit, especially as an actor and especially as one who was looking for a job. "I mean it as a joke, but if you're interested. Do you play golf?"
Taking another sip of wine, Neil translated the hand gestures and furrowed his brow trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say. Setting down his glass, he signed/said, "Book club is nice, but in general, reading and sitting in the park... basically you're still alone. You might want to consider activities where you interact with other people, too."
He didn't think he could go to a gym just yet. That required a more relaxed state of dress around other people that he wasn't ready for. He shook his head 'no' to the golf question. It was never something Freddy seemed interested in.
He sat up on the couch and tucked his legs into an Indian style. After actually thinking for a minute, Freddy composed himself enough to talk, though his speech was still slurred a bit and his words sounded more like a person talking for the first time. "What should I do, Neil?" and he patted his own chest when he said 'I'. This was all new to Frederick, and he was really ill-equipped for these kinds of decisions.
It was part of Neil's essential being the Caterpillar to give advise, giving him a sense of self-satisfaction, not to mention a boost to his ego. On his chair, which in his mind, seemed to take on the form of a large mushroom, Neil examined his friend very seriously, taking into Fred's special considerations.
"My... suggestion," he started out slowly, since he couldn't think of what the sign for 'suggestion' was, and ended up getting it entirely wrong so instead of 'suggestion', he'd signed 'information', even though he said the correct word. "My...information...is that you whenever you can, do something new. Everyday, every week. It doesn't have to be something big." Or threatening, Neil thought, remembering how timid Fred could be. "But expand your borders. Be different. Meet new people. You can even start with meeting your fellow Tales. There are a lot of them in New York, and many are very nice people."
"I can meet people through the shop," he signed. In the shop, he felt safe and in his element, which would be a big help for him. If he was nervous, he often times stumbled over words when he signed or spoke, then he felt people laughed at him. "I could take a class at the school," which was his way of saying the local college. Maybe something like an art class, something he could excel in and not feel so bad. "Art school." Then his hand made a motion in the air like he was painting on a canvas.
He sat back on the couch, his knees pulled up to his chest in a sign of frustration. Generally, his life wasn't this difficult. He stayed in his little hole, and people didn't bother him and he didn't bother them. He didn't need anyone, right? He'd gotten along this far in life without them.
"Art class sounds like a good idea," Neil muttered without signing, then realized that Fred might not be able to understand, and so repeated himself with both his voice and hands. "Art class is good, and also fun."
There was a short pause, where Neil seriously considered how he should phrase his thoughts without upsetting an already skittish Fred. "Meeting people who come into your shop is alright... but people who do that are just coming in for business. There isn't much opportunity for personal exchange. Coming to the U.S. was a big step, but if you continue to do the same old thing, then I think you might be missing the point. I'm not suggesting that you jump into anything big right away, but this is something you should consider."
"Not always," he spoke, though it came out more as 'no alway'. He took a moment to collect himself. "People who come in to my shop and see that I cannot hear sometimes tell me personal things because they think because I cannot hear them that I am easy to talk to and will not judge them." He'd found in his years that people often spoke about themselves when they believed that no one was listening or paying attention.
"I can draw. A drawing class would be nice. I will look on the computer tomorrow to see what I find at the college."
"Still," Neil said, leaning forward and being a bit more emphatic in his gestures, "if you're not communicating back, that doesn't really count." In his intoxicated state, Neil didn't know how to explain it any better, and he really didn't know if he should bother, if Fred was going to be obstinate in this way. Might as well encourage him with what he did want to do.
Sitting back in his seat, he wanted to pick up his wine glass again, but before he did, he sloppily signed, "What kind of art do you do? Pencil? Paint?"
"I respond sometimes," he signed back, a small frown on his face. It wasn't his fault people didn't really want to talk to him much.
"Draw and color," he signed out to Neil, then Freddy got up from the couch, stumbling a bit at first, then wandered over to his desk to pull something out. He'd tugged a portfolio out from under another stack of papers. He brought it back to Neil and opened it up for him to look at, pointing at the drawings inside. They were of all different kinds of toys and items he'd designed over the years, with scale measurements noted, materials used, and the items colored in carefully with colored pencils.
This was a talent that Neil never knew Freddy had possessed. Shuffling through the sheets of paper, looking at each drawing, pausing at some longer than others, Neil said, "These are pretty damn good. You've got a talent here. I bet you could even get these published or maybe illustrate a kid's book."
Freddy's eyes brightened. A children's book? He hadn't thought of doing anything like that, but he did like kids. He often times watched them when they'd come into his shop and play with the different toys back in London. Over there, the children respected someone else's property. Not like here. They'd probably break them.
"We will see," he signed and sat back down to refill his wine glass.
Neil put the drawings back down, and went to Fred, holding his own glass out for him to refill, signing a quick 'Thank you', before sitting down. He'd seen his friend's reaction to his suggestion about the book, and Neil smiled secretly.
He filled up Neil's glass, and realized that the bottle was empty. He got up to dispose of the bottle in the rubbish and returned with a tin full of tea cakes, set them on the table and stretched back out on his couch. Freddy's head was plenty woozy by now from the wine, as he'd never been good at holding liquor. "You can stay here tonight if you want to," he signed rather clumsily.
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He doubted very much he'd go out as much as his parents had wanted him to. They were scared for their son, how he was so shut in, and they just wanted him to come out of his shell more, given his age. So they'd paid for him to come to the United States, even though Freddy had the means to pay for himself. His eight siblings had gone on to have families and lives, why should he let one small thing like his deafness make him such a hermit?
Reply
Neil smirked, indicating to Fred he was making a joke, but that didn't mean he wasn't wondering what things his friend was going to do to 'get out more'. Coming to America was just a beginning - if Fred decided to continue being a hermit, then he might as well have never left England.
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"I do not know. I read a lot. Maybe a book club or the park. I do like to go out and watch people," he signed. He'd have to use the computer to look into different avenues around the city. He could go to a Broadway play, even if he couldn't hear it, he could enjoy the spectacular visuals.
Reply
Taking another sip of wine, Neil translated the hand gestures and furrowed his brow trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say. Setting down his glass, he signed/said, "Book club is nice, but in general, reading and sitting in the park... basically you're still alone. You might want to consider activities where you interact with other people, too."
Reply
He sat up on the couch and tucked his legs into an Indian style. After actually thinking for a minute, Freddy composed himself enough to talk, though his speech was still slurred a bit and his words sounded more like a person talking for the first time. "What should I do, Neil?" and he patted his own chest when he said 'I'. This was all new to Frederick, and he was really ill-equipped for these kinds of decisions.
Reply
"My... suggestion," he started out slowly, since he couldn't think of what the sign for 'suggestion' was, and ended up getting it entirely wrong so instead of 'suggestion', he'd signed 'information', even though he said the correct word. "My...information...is that you whenever you can, do something new. Everyday, every week. It doesn't have to be something big." Or threatening, Neil thought, remembering how timid Fred could be. "But expand your borders. Be different. Meet new people. You can even start with meeting your fellow Tales. There are a lot of them in New York, and many are very nice people."
Reply
He sat back on the couch, his knees pulled up to his chest in a sign of frustration. Generally, his life wasn't this difficult. He stayed in his little hole, and people didn't bother him and he didn't bother them. He didn't need anyone, right? He'd gotten along this far in life without them.
Reply
There was a short pause, where Neil seriously considered how he should phrase his thoughts without upsetting an already skittish Fred. "Meeting people who come into your shop is alright... but people who do that are just coming in for business. There isn't much opportunity for personal exchange. Coming to the U.S. was a big step, but if you continue to do the same old thing, then I think you might be missing the point. I'm not suggesting that you jump into anything big right away, but this is something you should consider."
Reply
"I can draw. A drawing class would be nice. I will look on the computer tomorrow to see what I find at the college."
Reply
Sitting back in his seat, he wanted to pick up his wine glass again, but before he did, he sloppily signed, "What kind of art do you do? Pencil? Paint?"
Reply
"Draw and color," he signed out to Neil, then Freddy got up from the couch, stumbling a bit at first, then wandered over to his desk to pull something out. He'd tugged a portfolio out from under another stack of papers. He brought it back to Neil and opened it up for him to look at, pointing at the drawings inside. They were of all different kinds of toys and items he'd designed over the years, with scale measurements noted, materials used, and the items colored in carefully with colored pencils.
Reply
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"We will see," he signed and sat back down to refill his wine glass.
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"Are we out of teacakes?"
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