Another loud crack brought him back to the living room. But the peaceful calm he’d felt in the plane, the joy of being so high up and yet safe lingered in his mind. He felt his lips quirk up, and when Derek smiled at him, he smiled back. He liked these guys. The beer was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Finishing off the can, he noted it was regular light beer, but he’d stop and get some on his way home. Why was he here again? It didn’t matter. He was having a great time.
“Barry, go slow. Don’t destroy Hunter’s house, just, yeah, that’s it,” Eric said.
Julian looked toward the door, a smile plastered on his face. The clothes started to move from the doorframe, tumbling forward into the hallway. No. Not the clothes but Barry. At the base of the clothes was a boot. A boot the size of a footstool. So large it didn’t seem real. It was an illusion. He looked at the empty can in his hand, sure that they’d drugged him.
The foot moved; a crash and more cursing sounded from behind it. One knee was out now, clad in sweatpants stretched to their limit. The leg bent into a crouch, and a gigantic, hairy arm reached out to grab the edge of the wall. “Pull,” the guy pleaded. His fingers waggled.
The two on the love seat howled with laughter. Eric turned to Julian. “This happens every time Barry has to pee. The bathroom is the size of a keyhole, and he can barely get in there.”
“Or out,” Derek said and eventually got up to aid Barry. Derek was average-sized, yet his hands looked tiny as they clasped around Barry’s.
The extrication went on for another few minutes, and Julian feared the wall would come down before the giant exited the bathroom.
Deciding that he could check back later, he shifted his weight forward. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do with Hunter when he found him, but he knew he didn’twant to meet Barry. The ceiling was only seven feet, like most basements, and he wondered if the giant could even stand up in here.
His hands clasped the arms of the chair, but he stayed seated, transfixed. Eric had gone to help, and now Barry was sideways in the doorway, one leg and arm on this side.
“Sit down, Barry,” Derek said. “Please sit on the floor and scoot.”
With a groan, Barry edged to the floor and his shoulder emerged. He ducked his ottoman-sized head and leaned out of the door. His expression was morose, even humiliated. Julian felt a moment of sympathy. Having been ridiculed for his size in the past, he knew what it felt like.
The head swung around, eyes the size of duck eggs, bloodshot and baby blue as they spotted Julian half out of his chair. Barry’s nose was a fleshy lump of skin jutting from his face, his mouth wide and full and curved downward. He started to say something, but both Eric and Derek were pushing and pulling at him. With a shake of Barry’s hand, Eric flew off and landed at Julian’s feet.
He roared with laughter. “Good old Barry.” The little man scrambled to his feet. “Come on, dude. We’re funning with ya.”
Yeah, Julian had heard those words and tone often enough in his childhood. Always the butt of a joke. Eric walked back to the big man. Not big. A giant. An actual giant.
Barry’s leg took up most of the room. Julian edged over, visually measuring. He couldn’t seem to help himself—he’d never seen anyone this size. Barry’s boot rested on its heel, and the toe came to under Julian’s knee.
“Where do you get boots this size?”
Barry frowned at him, his face squashed under the door jam. “That’s a rude question.”
“Sorry,” Julian said. He was going to say more, but Barry lifted his giant leg, grunting with the effort. Julian stepped out of the way. The house shook as Barry scooted into the room on his butt.
Finally he cleared the tiny doorway and stood, or rather, stooped. He had to be over eight feet tall, with hands that could crush Julian’s head. His forehead formed a fleshy shelf over his eyes, adorned with a unibrow the size of a cat.
Uglier than a mud fence. His grandmother’s saying came to Julian. He did what he always did in times of stress. He smiled. Not a usual thing in his business, but he found that it worked far more often than pulling a gun, which he’d also thought of doing.
“What do ye want?” Barry leaned down.
“Ah. Nothing, looking for Bar—no, Bruce. Looking for Bruce.”
The head full of dark shaggy hair turned to Derek. “Who’s Bruce?”
Derek smiled at the giant. “Hunter. He means Hunter.”
The smile widened to include Julian, putting him immediately at ease. His shoulders relaxed. His hands unclenched at his sides.
Safe and comfortable. Like he’d felt when he was at his mother’s old kitchen table, eating pierogies and listening to her talk about the neighbors.And Jeanne said that her nephew got a job down at the railroad. A good job too, mind you, not cleaning the toilets or sweeping. But then Jeanne lies like a rug most of the time. You can’t trust her. Did I tell you about Sandy?
Julian felt himself nodding, the spicy meat and silky dough of the dumplings offering contentment he’d not had in a long time. He wanted to stay there, at the Formica-topped table, the light filtering through the yellow chintz curtains, his mom in front of the stove, the familiar apron tied around her thick waist.
“I bet he’d taste good.” A deep baritone invaded his thoughts, his space. “I’m a bit peckish.”
Alarm zinged through Julian. He wanted to stay in the old memory, but something told him he needed to run.
“There, Julian. It’s okay. He’s teasing.” Derek’s voice wrapped around him like a fur-lined coat. His mom was looking at him oddly, then her face changed into Eric’s.
