3rd POV
Orel watched Joe walk to his truck, the sun shining through the clouds onto his tenth generation Ford F-150. As his vehicle bellowed, Orel could sense Doughy behind him.
"Are you friends with Joe?" Orel shook his head. "No, our relationship is purely professional. I simply had to have a talk with him about his child; why does it matter?"
Doughy narrowed his brow. "You go to his house to have a talk with him? Don't you remember how he used to treat us?"
"That was the past," Orel said. "We were kids, maybe he has changed since then. Its not fair to hold a grudge against someone for so long." His stomach rumbled quietly, yet was just loud enough for both men to hear. "Please, let's finish dinner. Its been a long day."
Doughy bit his tongue, feeling deep resentment but deciding that it wasn't worth it to argue with Orel.
-
Todd laid out the three essential utensils where a cloth and plate was placed, four for Orel, Lucy, Doughy, and himself. He sat down at his usual spot, right next to where Lucy sits. Doughy brought over a bowl of non-burnt green beans and set them in the middle of the table, then took a seat across from Todd.
Orel carried a pan full of freshly cooked salmon over to Todds plate and stuck a fork into a piece, bringing it down to his dish. He did the same with the other three plates. "Todd, may you please pass the green beans?" Orel asked.
"Yup!" The boy finished scooping green beans out of the bowl and stretched his arms over to Orel, handing it to him.
Orel filled his plate and then set the leftovers on the table. Everyone began to eat, a heavy silence filling the room. Doughys mind was racing, yet he couldn't find the courage to cut the tension and bring up something that could potentially start a quarrel.
The home phone started ringing. Orel politely excused himself and went into the living room to pick up the call. He barely recognized the number; no one ever called his home phone.
Nevertheless, he answered it, and he heard his aging mother on the other end. "Orel? Hello?"
He sighed. "Hi, Bloberta."
"I- I need your help, please. I've got this old cabinet I need to sell, and," her voice had a quiver, like she was nervous. "its very big. Your brothers are busy, you know and, I need someone to help me bring it out. Outside, tomorrow. I can give you some money."
Orel thought of his response for a moment, thinking about if he was going to be busy the next day. "Alright, I think I can help you. It would be best if I could come at around 11, after church."
She agreed, giving her thanks before hanging up. He walked back into the kitchen and everything was as it was when he left; quiet and tense.
Doughy must've overheard their conversation, as he had a worried look on his face when Orel sat down.
"Uhm," he set his fork down and lowered his voice. "that was Bloberta..?"
"Yea, she just needs my help with something." Orel read Doughys expression and he leaned towards him, staying emotionless. "It'll be fine. You know she's harmless, and besides, she doesn't remember anything anyways."
Doughy still felt hesitant, but he respected his friend's decision. "I guess so..."
-
Bloberta sat in a rickety rocking chair with her cross-stitching supplies in her lap. Everything seemed to be fairly kept; the carpet, although old, still maintained some cleanliness, and all the furniture looked like it had barely been used.
"Orel!" She looked up. "Its good to see you...the cabinet is in my room, down the hall and to your right, I'll be there soon." Orel nodded and followed her instructions. He found himself in a medium sized room with an old fashioned bed as the centerpiece.
The cabinet was opposite of the bed and looked like it was ready to be moved, since there was nothing on top of it and it had been cleaned.
He took ahold of one side and he slowly backed out of the room, but as he pulled, he heard something rolling around in one of the drawers.
Orel paused and went around to the front to check each drawer and what was inside. When he opened the second one, he saw an urn accompanied by a picture frame.
He examined the urn; there was no epitaph, and it seemed to be barely one fourth full of ashes. The picture frame held a capture of Clay in his 30's.
Bloberta appeared from behind the corner and said, "What happened? Is there something in there?"
He tucked the picture under his arm. "Yea, just some old frames...Should we get started?" Orel said before placing the objects down in a place that Bloberta couldn't see from her point of view. She nodded agreeably.
-
They both drug the large cabinet outside, heaving when they set it down on the gravel. "He should be here soon, very soon. I'm ready to get this over with. House is too full..." Bloberta trailed off as Orel wallowed in his own thoughts, specially the ones about his diseased father.
He wondered if he should go back and get his urn. But then again, it seemed like it would simply catch dust, and he didn't want to steal from Bloberta.
"You know, where's that Christina? Thought she- she would've come. She busy? With those kids?" A deep sigh escaped Orels lips. He forgot that he didn't tell her about the divorce, there never was a time for it, and he assumed that she wouldn't care. They never talked unless Bloberta needed something.
"She, um, she's not really around anymore?" He kicked the dust at his feet, his throat tightening. "We decided to split up, for the better of the two of us."
A familiar looking vehicle drove into view, stopping Bloberta from giving a response. Is that Joe..? Orel thought. He rubbed his forehead. This can't be real.
He jumped out of the car and headed towards the duo, but he paused when he saw Orels face.
"Heh, I should've known, buying from a Puppington. Hi there, Orel." Joe walked over to Bloberta and shook her hand. "Heya, thank you for the cabinet. I've got your money right here, 200, right?"
"Yes, 200." Joe took out his wallet and fished for exactly two 100 dollar bills. Bloberta took the money and turned to Orel. "May you please load it into the car? You know I can only handle so much, Orel, please?"
He hummed, waiting for Joe to get on the other side of the bulky peice of furniture. Bloberta went back inside.
They carried it over to his truck, which was a bit far from the house, and steadily loaded it into the back. Catching his breath, Joe glaced at Orel, getting a look at his sorrowful expression.
"Hey, something wrong, pup?" He put a hand on Orels shoulder, causing him to flinch at his touch.
"No, I'm okay. Everything's fine." The wind began to pick up, and a few strands of Orels hair danced in the breeze. His eyes were fixated on the ground, having an almost sultry look. It was hard for Joe not to question him further, it felt like he was just asking for it.
"A little unusual to see you with Bloberta. You two talk much?" What would have been a response morphed into a wobbly cry, and Orel shielded his face with his hands to attempt to 'hide'.
Joe, surprised, stepped forward and leaned down. "Woah, heyy, its okay! Sorry, I shouldn't have pushed, huh."
This made Orel more distressed. "No, no its not you! I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me..."
"Come here, it's alright." Joe pulled Orel onto his arms and held his head close to his chest, as to let him hide his tears.
Orel, while hesitant, accepted the hug, and let his body relax into Joe's hold. He stopped his crying rather quickly while making a few small 'hic' sounds. After pulling away, he used his button up to dry his eyes.
"All better?" Joe asked. "Uhm, a bit, I guess...thank you."
"I've gotta get home, put this thing where it belongs and then get something to eat." He gave a small smile and rubbed Orels shoulder. "I'm glad I got to see you again. Don't forget to call me someday, 'kay?"
"Yeaaa, okay," Orel blushed and turned his head to the side. "I promise."