Noodles and Ernie

A story by

Dennis O'Rourke

    After he closed his hand around the tumbler of scotch he saw Noodles sitting in the middle of the bar, head down, staring into an empty beer stein. McHugh squinted and swore under his breath. “Is that son of a bitch crying?” He beckoned to the bartender.
     “What’s up with Noodles?”
     “Beats me. He ain’t talking.”
     “Is he broke?”
     “Nah, he’s got money.”
     “Well, hell, it looks like he’s crying.”
     “Yep, it does that.”
    “Shit.” McHugh stood up. “Get him a beer for me, will ya?” He walked down the bar and seated himself in the chair beside Noodles. “What’s up, partner? Merry Christmas.”
     “Yeah, sure. Not for me it ain’t.” He didn’t look up.
     “Whatever it is, man, it can’t be all that bad.”
     “I’m being thrown out of my apartment, evicted. Is that bad enough?” He turned and blurted it out. McHugh noted the misty eyes.
     “You’re kidding. Two weeks before Christmas some landlord is going to toss you out? Is it the rent? How far behind are you?”
     The barman set a beer in front of Noodles and said, “This is on McHugh.” Noodles took a big pull without acknowledgement or thanks.
     “It ain’t that. It’s Ernie, my dog. They told me I have to get rid of him or get out. It’s a rule. No pets over twenty pounds.”
      “So, do you know anybody that’ll take him?”
     “I’m not giving him up, Danny.” He straightened and swiveled in his chair to face McHugh, his eyes narrowing. “I love Ernie. I love my dog. I ain’t giving him up.” He turned back to his beer. “But they’re not letting me have enough time to find another place. They want me out by Thursday.”
     “Didn’t you know the twenty pound rule before you moved in?”
     “Yeah, I knew it. Ernie weighs forty pounds, but he looks skinny. I thought I could get away with it. The apartment was nice, furnished and it’s cheap. Someone in the building told on me, reported me - the guy lives across from me, always complaining about Ernie barking. I know it was him. He always gets this look on his face whenever he sees Ernie.”
     They sat and drank for an hour, leaving the canine and domicile problem behind, talking about music. Noodles was a bartender first and a sax player on the side - jazz, not bad, but not good. On his instrumental breaks he had a tendency to putz around, never really get anything going, noodling. A drummer called him Noodles and Noodles was naive enough not to see that it wasn’t a compliment. McHugh was a guitar player; he worked behind some pretty big Country stars, often on the road, and was in demand for recording sessions. He had just moved in to a three bedroom apartment in a swanky complex, high atop a hill overlooking a range of lush woods. He was comfortable.
     When he thought about it later he guessed that it was the specter of a fellow musician in trouble that nudged him to make the offer against his better instincts. And it was Christmas. And he was drinking scotch.
     “Listen, man, tell you what; I don’t want or need a room mate, but I’ll help you out for a couple of weeks till you find another place. You can take the back bed room in my apartment. You got your own bathroom. There’s no furniture in the room though. You got a sleeping bag or something?”
     Noodles grinned wide. “Oh, man! Yeah, I do.”
     “Okay, but wait a minute now. Be sure you understand what I’m saying. A couple or three weeks at most, at most is all I’m offering. Through Christmas, that’s it.” They clinked glasses. “So, are you sure you’re gonna be able to find an apartment that will take you and the dog in that space of time?”
     “Oh, shit, yeah. I’ll have something to move into by January first, easy, easy, probably before. Oh, man, oh, Danny, I can’t thank you enough. I’ll pay you, too.”
     “Oh, no, no. I don’t want your money, Noodles. You’re not a roommate; you’re a guest for a couple of weeks, that’s all.” He held out his hand. The scotch flowed through him, the Christmas cheer, and he grew more expansive. “But you’re a welcome guest.”
     On Thursday morning Noodles and Ernie presented themselves at McHugh’s front door. Ernie was a sorry looking mutt of indeterminate breed, brown and black, as skinny as Noodles mentioned, with small bald patches on his back, where the skin showed an ugly, unhealthy red and yellow; and he carried a distinct, unwashed aroma. The dog looked up at McHugh and then put its head down and slunk through the door. Noodles followed. McHugh had a bad moment, a pang of doubt, but he shook it off.

                                       *     *     *

     Second thoughts began the very first night. McHugh came home around six in the evening. Noodles was at his bartending gig. Ernie was in the back bedroom. When McHugh looked in the dog was lying on Noodles’ sleeping bag. He lifted his head cautiously and stared at McHugh. Clothes were all over the floor and three cardboard boxes hemorrhaged papers, sheet music, paperback books, porn magazines, towels and more clothes. A sax stood in its stand in the corner. McHugh was, as a rule, a neat and orderly fella, and he shook his head at the carnage before him. He told himself that Noodles would straighten the room up in a day or two. But what did it matter anyway? He would be gone in a couple of weeks.
     McHugh turned and headed toward his own room. He’d gotten only a few steps into the parlor when he saw it in front of the fireplace, on the rug, a pyramid pile of dog shit, so neatly formed, with a twist at the top, that at first he thought it must be one of those joke turds. Now why would Noodles think this was funny, he thought? But on closer inspection it proved to be the real thing, a gift from Ernie. McHugh swore and for the second time shook his head. He retrieved the kitchen basket and scooped the shit up with the fireplace shovel. He got a bucket with hot water and soap and scrubbed the spot till it was clean. Then he sprayed it with Lysol.
     Noodles was going to have to make arrangements to make certain the goddamn dog was walked so that this didn’t happen again. McHugh was not going to clean up after the animal, nor was he going to volunteer to walk the dog. He had to have a talk with Noodles tonight, he thought, or this might be a very long two weeks. But he remembered that Noodles was closing the bar and would not be back until after two in the morning. Hell, it could wait till tomorrow.

                                 *     *     *

     Hours later McHugh was awakened by the bell of the microwave in the kitchen. Noodles was nuking a frozen dinner and whispering excitedly to Ernie, that mantra of praise that inevitably gets a dog worked up. “Good dog, yes, yes, you are.” The dog was whimpering in anticipation of being taken outside to attend to business. McHugh caught a faint, sweet whiff of marijuana. The front door opened and closed with a bang. McHugh was startled to hear Ernie begin to bark out in the parking lot. He leaned over toward the clock. Two forty-two in the morning. After a few minutes the door opened and in they came in a rush. It sounded like Noodles was urging the dog to jump up at him. Now fully excited Ernie began to bark again, each one sounding to McHugh like a gunshot. His groaned and his heart sank when he heard an answering bark, a yipping coming from the apartment below him, the little Pekinese. McHugh sailed out of bed, pulled on his pants and headed into the living room. Noodles was indeed getting the dog all riled up.
     “Noodles, for fucks sake; it’s three in the morning. Jesus, you got the mutt downstairs going now.”
     “Ah, oh, shit, Danny. Shit, I’m sorry.” Noodles reached down and caught Ernie by the collar. The dog cowed immediately. “Hey. It’s all right, big guy; it’s okay. Daddy’s just going to take you to the room, c’mon now. Time to lay down. Sleepy time, Ernie. Come with Daddy.” McHugh watched silently as a stooped Noodles led his dog to the room. When he emerged he was grinning. Stoned.
     “Boy, do I love that dog, man. I really do.” He ducked into the kitchen and came out with the micro waved dinner. He set it on the dining room table. McHugh sat down at the other end.
     “Hey, Danny, I got a six-pack. Want one? C’mon, have one. Lemme get it.”
     He set the bottle in front of McHugh and one beside his dinner. McHugh looked at the beer. Three in the morning. Noodles began to eat and talk at the same time, running on about his night at the bar and the tips he had made and the chick he had met. McHugh sighed and took a sip from the beer, then held up his hand.
     “Noodles, listen. Did you take your dog out at all today, you know, for a walk?”
     “Yeah, this morning, but I never made it back here from rehearsal. It went late. I just went to work from there. We got a wedding reception in a couple of weeks.”
     “Well, Ernie left a deposit on the rug, right in front of the fireplace.”
     Noodles stood and looked past McHugh. “Ah, shit, no.”
     “Ah, shit, yes. Shit is the operative word. Hey. Where you going? Sit down. There’s nothing to see. I already cleaned it up.”
     “Man, I’m sorry, Danny. I just got tied up, busy, and…, well, I guess I forgot. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
     “If you love the dog as much as you say you do, you shouldn’t leave him here ten, twelve hours straight without coming back once or twice to let him out. Or however many times a day they need to go out. I don’t know. I never had a dog.”
     “Hey, man. I know. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. Like I say, won’t happen again.” He looked down at his macaroni and cheese, pushing it around with his fork like an unjustly scolded child. “And I do love him.”
     “Okay, Noodles. I know you love him. And I know it won’t happen again. Okay. I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow.”
     But it did happen again, the very next day. This time McHugh left it, walking around it when he went to and from his room. He went to bed. The next morning it was gone. Noodles had cleaned it up, but McHugh could see there was a slight discoloration on the rug. The dog had hit the same spot twice.

                                       *     *     *

     Over the next three days there was no repeat of the rug deposit, but Noodles continued to make a clatter when he returned from closing the bar. He would get the dog all riled up, take the dog out, the dog would bark and that would set the Pekinese to barking as well. He’d get stoned and microwave one or two macaroni and cheese dinners, and drink a few beers. But on two of those nights McHugh returned home late himself, a little worse for the wear, and would join Noodles at the table for a beer, though he shied away from the marijuana. McHugh was coming up to forty years of age and had decided there were some things he would live without for the rest of the journey.
     As for his search for new digs, Noodles made a great show at first of leafing through the newspaper classifieds. He would leave the paper on the table with different apartment listings circled in red ink. This satisfied McHugh that Noodles was on the hunt. Convinced that he would soon have his apartment back, McHugh paid a visit to the elderly couple below him and apologized for Ernie’s barking. They assured him they were not disturbed, they were sound sleepers.
     A week before Christmas an old girl friend of McHugh’s stopped by in the early evening with a small tree and some decorations. They had split amicably a year before. She had come to see that for the time being McHugh was not one for commitment to anything but music. She was dating randomly, and on a whim, knowing McHugh would not do it for himself, she had bought the tree. They drank some wine,
decorated the tree and then made love in front of it. It was all quite spur of the moment, a delightful surprise, spoiled only momentarily for McHugh when he looked up midway through the proceedings to find Ernie eyeing them from the room. He gave the dog such a glare that Ernie backed away and disappeared into the darkness of the room.
     When Noodles returned that night he was like a happy child when he saw the tree. McHugh was headed for bed, pleasantly buzzed from his evening, but stopped to marvel at Noodles’ enthusiasm, and finally ended up joining him in a few beers at the table. At these moments he felt good about helping Noodles out. While they talked Ernie crept out of the room and took up a position beside Noodles. After a few moments of staring at the tree the dog began to growl. Noodles cuffed him lightly on the ear.
     “What’s that all about?” McHugh said.
     “Ah, it’s just that it’s something new, the tree and the lights, something he hasn’t seen, has to get used to. Maybe he’s a little afraid of it, too.”
     McHugh fell silent for a moment. He looked down at Ernie.
     “Noodles, how goes the apartment search? Got anything lined up?”

                                       *     *     *

     Two days later McHugh came home after an afternoon session that had run late. It was after nine o’clock. He stepped into his apartment, switched on the lights and set his guitar case down on the living room floor. He stared in disbelief at the mess in front of him. The Christmas tree had been pulled down from its stand onto the floor. Some of the ornaments had been torn from the branches and some of the branches had been ripped from the tree. Tinsel was everywhere. When McHugh looked in on Ernie, he saw a strand of it on the dog’s head; not that he had any doubt about the culprit. Noodles is off tonight, he thought. Where was he when this happened? McHugh was so angry he left the house and went straight to the local bar. A few beers and an hour later he was calm enough to return. In the parking lot Noodles was piling the remains of the tree onto the bed of his truck. Ernie sat up in the front seat barking happily. Noodles started toward McHugh with his arms open, but McHugh held up his hand for silence, shook his head and went into the house.
     After dumping the tree and cleaning up the detritus of needles, broken ornaments and tinsel, Noodles began to offer up the usual apologies, but McHugh again waved him to silence. Later Noodles made a show of scouring the newspaper ads.
     And then all was quiet, mostly. There was the occasional dog shit mishap, which McHugh would leave for Noodles. Noodles tried toning down his late night weed and macaroni celebrations, but never really succeeded. And suddenly it was the end of January.

                                    *     *     *

     McHugh had been napping. He had a date that night and he’d been looking forward to it all week. He got up around the time Noodles usually left for work. He stopped outside the closed door of the guest room and heard Noodles laughing, talking to someone on the phone. He was about to turn away when he heard Noodles clearly say something that hit him like a punch in the stomach.
     “You can stay here, Nadine. C’mon. What do you say?” Noodles paused, and then said, “Nah, he won’t mind. Danny’s all right. He’s a good guy.” He paused again, listening, and then said, “Well, sure, of course. He won’t mind, I’m telling you. You can stay the whole week.”
     McHugh backed away, the blood throbbing in his ears. He retreated to his room where he closed the door and sat on his bed, listening for the sound of Noodles’ departure, all the while thinking, “I don’t fucking believe it. I don’t believe this guy. Holy, sweet Christmas Christ Mother of God. The son of a bitch! I said two weeks, maybe three. It’s now more than six, he’s still here, and now he’s inviting his girlfriends. I don’t believe it.” He sat there realizing that he was far too angry to confront Noodles now. He would wait till that night. He listened to the sound of Noodles’ departure and tried to unclench his teeth.
     It still weighed on his mind when he picked up his date. The woman quickly grew confused by his distraction and he finally had to tell her the whole story.
     “Sure, I’ve thought about whether it was the scotch,” he said. “Probably had something to do with it. I know I can get sentimental after a couple of belts. Lots of people do. Some people go the other way and get aggressive, want to fight. I don’t. I just felt bad for the guy. And don’t forget, here it was just a couple of weeks before Christmas. And on top of that, he’s crying.”
     “Now that bothers me,” she said. “What kind of a grown man goes into a bar and cries? Sounds to me like there’s a good possibility you were set up and conned. He could have been targeting anybody for that matter, any of his friends.”
     McHugh was surprised. “You think so, really? Well, okay. Maybe. But I honestly don’t think Noodles is that smart or that devious.”
     “But you did offer to help. You did invite him.” She paused and said softly, “And he’s still there.”
     That cleared it all up in McHugh’s mind. Noodles had to be given his walking papers, it was agreed. They carried on a little further into the evening until it was obvious that the problem had closed itself around McHugh and he couldn’t shake it. She smiled and said she understood. He apologized and took her home.
     “See you again, I hope.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a nice fella, McHugh. But I think you’re being used, if not outright manipulated.”
     He had another two hours before Noodles would return and McHugh did not want to wait for him in the apartment, sitting at the dining table like some outraged spouse. So he went to the local and had a few more tumblers of scotch. There was no sentimentality in any of them.
     He could hear Ernie barking as he walked up the stairs. A cloud of blue marijuana smoke hung over the table where Noodles sat eating his macaroni and cheese. McHugh sat down at the other end of the table.
     “Noodles, I want you out of here, you and your dog. I want you out of here as soon as you can find somebody else to put you up. And that better be within the next couple of days.”
     They argued for twenty minutes. Noodles was stoned and McHugh was drunk. Ugly words filled the air at high volume. When he realized how close he was to punching Noodles, McHugh went to his room, undressed and passed out.

                                        *     *     *

     He awoke around eleven in the morning, his head ringing. He propped himself up on his pillows and pulled the covers up to his chin. Outside was a gray, lifeless day, windy and undoubtedly cold. When he turned away from the window he found Noodles standing in the doorway. He was wearing a wool cap and a sleeveless down parka. They stared at each other for a long minute. McHugh was damned if he was going to say anything first. He couldn’t remember most of it, but he knew that what he had said last night was enough. I want you and the hound out of my house. Case closed.
     “You really hurt my feelings last night, Danny, do you know that?” Noodles said at last. His voice had a hard edge to it as though he felt he was standing on the firm ground of righteous indignation. When McHugh did not answer, he continued, “Some of those things were really uncalled for, absolutely out of line. You had no right to say them.” Another long moment passed and still McHugh lay still, unspeaking, eyeing Noodles over the blanket. Ernie suddenly appeared beside Noodles and sat down, looking back and forth at the two men.
     “You owe me an apology, Danny.”
     “I want you out of here, Noodles. I want you and Ernie and all your stuff gone as soon as possible. I believe I made that clear last night.”
      “And like I said last night, where am I going to go?”
     “I don’t care. I don’t care where you go or how you get there. Just go. I tried to help you out. I gave you three weeks to find a place to live. That was the deal. Three weeks. You’ve been here six weeks and haven’t really made any effort.”
     “No, no. That’s where you’re wrong. I told you. I have been looking, I have. And there’s plenty of places I could be living, there are.” Ernie suddenly rose to all fours with his head jutted straight out, as if he were a hunting dog, pointing. Noodles looked down as he continued his plea. “I found one a few days ago.”
     “Then why aren’t you moved in? Why are you still here?” McHugh propped himself up on his elbows.
     “Because they won’t take dogs, they won’t take Ernie. And I’m not giving him up, I’m not. I love this dog, I do. Maybe you can’t understand that because you’ve never had a dog or even a cat for all I know. Maybe you’re just not an animal lover. But I am. I’ve had Ernie for almost a year now and I’m not giving him up. I love my dog, Danny, I really do.” 
     Ernie coughed once, twice, and thrust his head out and back, hacking. The coughs came faster; his jaws opened wide, his sides began heaving. Noodles looked down. McHugh let the covers fall from his chin and craned his neck up, watching the dog. After a few more heaves, the dog began to spew a stream of bile, a foul looking brownish yellow, whose smell quickly made it to McHugh’s nostrils. The spasms came to an end with two short spurts and one final eruption, and then the dog stepped back, looked up at Noodles and then slowly backed out the door and disappeared. Noodles stood staring at the vile wet mess. In a whisper, almost to himself, but still loud enough for McHugh to hear, he said, “I can’t believe he just did that.”

                                         *     *     *

     Noodles and Ernie gradually vacated McHugh’s apartment over the next few days. Noodles packed and moved boxes and sound equipment and clothing out to his truck before heading to work. No words were spoken. McHugh had no idea where Noodles was going, he didn’t ask; and he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. But he began to feel badly watching Noodles’ somewhat dramatic departure, silent, head high; a wronged man toughing it out. Recalling his date’s remark about being manipulated, McHugh bit the bullet. Besides, he realized that any show of sympathy now would either be haughtily scorned, rebuffed; or worse, open the door for a Noodles plea for just a few more weeks. 
     McHugh returned home on the third night and his place was his own again. Noodles had left the key on the dining table, no note. Just as well. McHugh washed, vacuumed and sprayed before going to bed a happy man. He awoke at two-thirty half expecting to hear the microwave bell and Ernie’s barking; and to catch the smell of marijuana. He greeted the quiet with open arms and fell back to sleep smiling.
     Several months passed. It was spring at last. McHugh was at the bar when Noodles walked in and took a seat at the other end. This was the first time McHugh had seen him since hearing that Noodles had found a one room apartment in a rough corner of town, but a place that allowed dogs of all sizes. The bartender set a beer in front of Noodles and stood there listening while Noodles talked in a whisper. He finally turned to another customer and McHugh had a full view of his former houseguest. He couldn’t believe it. It looked like Noodles was crying. McHugh signaled the bartender for his check.
     “I’m not sure I want to know. But… Jesus, is he crying again? What the hell is wrong with him now? No. Don’t tell me. I’m gone, outta here. I don’t want to know. I don’t.” He paused. The bartender scooped up the money McHugh had laid down, smiled and raised an eyebrow. McHugh stood up and leaned over the bar. “Okay. All right. Tell me. Go ahead.”
     “His dog.”
     “The dog again. I don’t fucking believe it.”
     “The dog is dead. He croaked a couple of days ago. Noodles said he got real bad sick and so he took him to a vet. Vet says the dog was probably poisoned. Noodles thinks it was someone in the apartment complex, thinks he knows who, but no way to prove it.” The bartender turned to his register.
     McHugh looked up and found Noodles staring at him. McHugh nodded toward him, slightly and only once. Noodles didn’t respond. McHugh left quickly and without looking back.

                                 
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Copyright: Dennis O’Rourke 2008

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