Hip Check

Raking myself over the coals

“Joined at the hip, you are,” Chuck said. He was not speaking with indulgent affection — quite the reverse. He hurled the words with disgust as he hurled the rake at Michael.

I had been headed to Chuck’s to help with yard work and encountered Michael — who lived halfway between Chuck and me — enroute. I invited him to accompany me the rest of the way.

Michael and I frequently walked together — six days out of seven, back in the fall of 2011, when our friendship was in its springtime.

When we got to Chuck’s house, I picked up a rake and tossed some parting pleasantries at Michael. At that moment, Chuck came outside and, infuriated by seeing Michael and me together yet again, tossed some un-pleasantries and the other rake.

“Don’t just stand there — get to work,” Chuck snarled snidely, as Michael deftly caught the rake.

Mortified, I protested to Chuck that Michael had been heading out, that I’d requested that he accompany me and had delayed his departure by my chatting.

Michael didn’t miss a beat — he did indeed “get to work.” He and I raked for about 20 minutes whilst Chuck stuffed the piles into bags. Chuck offered Michael a beer afterwards and a couple for the road.

I am ashamed to say that while they drank, I just stood there, pretending at happy hour. More despicably, the “there” where I stood was next to Chuck, so as to mollify him, to make clear where my loyalties lay, so that — perish the thought — Chuck wouldn’t stalk out of my life and leave me ALONE.

How pathetic am I, to throw a friend — who’d been thrown a rake — under the bus to appease the driver/thrower and so spare myself getting kicked to the curb.

Seethe mightily though I did on Michael’s behalf, it was on my own behalf that I — coward! — cowered next to Chuck.

Then, I straightened myself and stood, firmly pressed to him— I cringe to say — hip-to-hip.

My friendship with Michael was never the same.