by E!lf

I was the youngest kid in my family and growing up on the reservation there were always a lot of people around.  When you're little and scrawny and younger than everybody else, it seems like no one ever wants to hear what you've got to say.  They told me I was a chatterbox.  (A "rattletrap" my uncle used to say.)  I made up for the fact that no one was listening to me by talking even more and by and by I figured out that I could divide the world into two kinds of people.  There were the ones who told me to shut up and the ones who just tuned me out.  Now, you can tell a lot about a person by whether they're a "tune out-er" or a "shut up-er".  It may seem strange, but personally I've always preferred the latter.  At least the shut up-ers acknowledge my existence.  There's nothing that can make a guy feel quite so small and unimportant as being treated like he isn't even there.

So anyway, here I am all grown up and moved to L.A..  I joined the fire department and when the paramedic program came along I let myself get talked into training with the second class.  There's a guy from the first class who went through it all again, acting as a sort of big brother to us.  His name is Roy DeSoto and he seems like a nice guy.  What's more, it seems as if he and I hit it off real good.  He even said something about letting me come be his partner, but I figured he was only joking and even when I was assigned to ride with him I thought it was just the luck of the draw.

Well, last week we started working together and of course the first thing I'm wondering is if he's a shut up-er or a tune out-er.  I really hoped he'd be a shut up-er because I really liked the guy and I was thinking that maybe we could get to be friends.  So the first shift we rode together I started talking.  I told him all about myself, all about growing up on the reservation and my family, girls I've dated, who knows what all.  And all that time, he doesn't say a word.  He nods every once in a while or glances over at me, but that doesn't fool me.  That's the sort of thing some of the tune out-ers do, to make you think they're paying attention to you.  You're spilling your guts and they're smiling and nodding and thinking about sex or baseball or cheeseburgers.

By the end of the shift I was pretty depressed.  He hadn't even acted like he was thinking about telling me to shut up.  I changed into my street clothes and started to leave, but Roy stopped me on the parking lot and asked me if I was coming to the firefighters' picnic that afternoon.  I started to say no, but he really did seem sincere and it wasn't like I had anything better to do.

"Come on, John," Roy said.  "I'm gonna have my wife and kids there and I was hoping for a chace to introduce you."

So I shrugged and agreed to show up.

Well, that afternoon rolled around and I drove up to the park and went to find my new partner.  He was sitting at a picnic table with a pretty brunette beside him and a couple of cute kids playing in the grass.  He stood up when he saw me.

"Honey, this is my partner, John Gage.  Johnny, this is my wife, Joanne, and these are our kids, Chris and Jennie."

Joanne offered me her hand.  "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny," she said.  "Roy has been telling us all about you."

Jennie tugged on my sleeve and I turned my attention to her.  "What is it, honey?"

"Um," she said, "um, um, do you think if I put my hair in pigtails, um, do you think Bearcat will let me ride him?"

I sat there blinking at her, trying to figure out where that question came from.  Roy came to my rescue.

"Sweetheart, I don't think Johnny has Bearcat anymore," he said.  "That was when he was a little boy."

Bearcat!  Right!  Of course!  Bearcat was this stallion we had when I was a kid.  He wouldn't let anyone but Indians ride him.  But how in the heck did Roy's daughter know about Bearcat?  I cleared my throat and tried to get my brain in gear.

"Your daddy's right," I said.  "Bearcat went to horsie heaven a long, long time ago.  But maybe someday you can visit my family's ranch and if you do I'm sure we can find you a horse to ride."

"Me too?" Chris demanded.

"Sure you too!"

"Uh, oh," Roy said.  "You shouldn't say things like that to kids.  Now you're never gonna hear the end of it!"

I glanced up at him and noticed Joanne giving me a measuring look.  Roy followed my gaze and sighed.  "I know that look.  That's your matchmaking look."  He turned back to me.  "Better run, Junior!"

"Well," Joanne said, "from some of the stories I've heard, it sounds like Johnny could use a good match maker!  Don't worry, Johnny.  I promise not to set you up with a woman who shaves her head and not her legs!"

"Yeah," I said, a bit bewildered.  "Tony did that.  My last partner.  I'm almost certain he meant it as a joke."

Slowly it sank in that Roy had been telling his family the stories that I had been telling him.  But if he was repeating my stories . . . that meant he must have been listening!  He was listening!  Listening to me!

"Hey, Johnny!" Roy said.  "Tell Joanne about your grandma's pet vulture and the encyclopedia salesman!"

"Oh, yeah," I said.  "Yeah, that was a funny one!"  As I launched into the familiar story I felt a warm glow growing in my chest.  And that moment, right there, that exact minute is when I knew what a great partner I'd wound up with and what a powerful friendship I was going to have the opportunity to build.

There's only one thing now that's bothering me.  All that time during the shift Roy was listening to me.  But I wasn't listening to me.  I mean, jeez!  I must have talked for fifteen hours.  I sure do wish I knew what I said!

The End.

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