Conflict

"Don't pay any attention to him. He's been like that all morning." Tony made a point of not looking over at the angry old man near the wheelbarrow.

"What's the problem today?" Nick took another bite of his sliced chicken sandwich and looked at the angry looking cut on the back of his hand. He should never take his gloves off on the job. Every time he did, something like that happened.

"I don't know. He tried to pick a fight with me earlier. Dropped a piece of two-by from the second floor, landed about three feet from me. I swear, he almost got his wish." Tony shook his head and poured some strong black coffee from his beat-up steel thermos into his favorite work cup.

"It's not like he could win a fight with anyone here, even," said Nick. Tony's coffee smelled really good and strong. For now, that was as close as he could get to it. Nick almost had his stomach problems under control. But it was tempting.

"He better watch out. There's a couple young’uns that might take him up on it. Clean his clock for him." Tony took a sip of his coffee. The cup steamed in the cold air. He'd already finished his sandwich and was still hungry but thought he'd save the apple his wife had packed in his lunchbox for his afternoon break.

They watched the old man across the yard as he pushed the wheelbarrow angrily into a pile of sand and spit at it.

Tony held the cup up by his nose and enjoyed the smell for a moment. "Maybe that's what he wants. Who knows. Maybe thinks if he's hurt on the job he'll get something out of it."

"Yeah, I don't know. He's been around long enough to know better. People get hurt around here all the time and I don't remember anybody getting anything out of it except more bills." Nick took a sip of the mixture of water and rice tea his wife had made for him and frowned. She'd read in Reader's Digest that it helped sour stomach and insisted that he drink at least two bottles of it a day. End of discussion.

"Maybe stitches, or a cast," Tony added.

The old man, whose name was Ollie, short for Oliver, grabbed up a shovel that he'd previously thrown down and started scooping sand into the wheelbarrow.

"Why ain't he taking his lunch break? What's he tryin' to prove?" Nick asked.

They could hear Ollie carrying on to himself in angry tones. Once in a while, they'd catch a curse word spat out with exaggerated vigor. He'd been this way all morning.

"Beat's me. Maybe that he's a harder worker than anyone else, or still a young stud or some happy horseshit like that." As he said this, Tony took in a lungful of air and sighed it out in a half-yawn.

"He's gonna give himself a heart attack or somethin'. You watch." Nick looked down at the clear acrylic container with the rice tea concoction and grimaced. The bottle wasn't even half empty yet.

"I'm watchin'. At least for another," he checked his watch, "17 minutes, and then I'll be getting back on that bay window." Tony closed his eyes and swung his lower legs back and forth in a walking motion, like a kid, as they dangled below him.

Ollie was the only thing moving on the job site right now. At least two of the guys were lying down with their eyes closed, if not asleep. Murph, the foreman had driven to the Home-Mart to pick up some joist hangers they were short of and so the whole site had slowed to a lazy buzz while lunch was being taken. Except for Ollie who had a bug up his ass about something.

"Well, it's a damn shame that Murph ain't here to see all that good work. Maybe Ollie'd get a raise or a seegar or somethin' for the effort." Nick laughed at his own witty joke but stopped when he saw Ollie's head snap up and look straight at him.

Ollie dropped the shovel and stood up straight and his eyes narrowed. Nick could see the wheels turning in Ollie’s head and the smoke start to roll out of his ears.

"Oh shit, now I done it," Nick said.

Tony opened his eyes and took in the scene. His legs stopped swinging.

"Yep. You have done it now," Tony pronounced each word separately and with emphasis, as if speaking to a newcomer to the English language.

Something funny, Nick? You see something humorous here?" Ollie shouted and started to walk toward the pair as they sat on the stacked plywood with their lunch boxes.

"At least he left the shovel behind." Tony said in a whisper, out of the corner of his mouth, leaning slightly toward Nick.

Nick snorted laughter and regretted it immediately.

Tony laughed at Nick laughter and then tried to hide it.

Ollie's eyes flared open wide while his eyebrows dropped into a pretty good imitation of some character from The Muppets or Mr. Potato Head and this made the two men laugh even harder.

This outraged Ollie and his face turned red and his eyes bulged out. The other four guys in the crew saw immediately what was happening and turned their attentions toward the scene with new interest. Even the two who had been "napping"

Nick set his rice-water down on the stack between Tony and himself and stood up, holding his hands up defensively, but still laughing.

Tony regained a little control and said, "Oh come on now, Ollie. Really?"

Ollie was closing the distance between them quickly, all the while mumbling wildly, almost incoherently. It was clear he was taking this personally and wanted to teach somebody a lesson.

"Look Ollie. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Nick, stood there with the back of his legs against the pile of plywood. There was nowhere to go and he figured he'd have to deal with this right here.

Tony remained sitting on the stack and took a deep breath. Ollie was in his late fifties and was at least four inches shorter and 50 pounds lighter than Tony who was 41. He wasn't really worried that Ollie was going to hurt anybody and didn't want to see Ollie get hurt himself.

Nick was about the same size as Ollie but at least 10 years his junior and in much better shape. He didn't want to fight the old man, nothing good could come of it.

"Sonsabitches, bastards, hyena laughin' sonsabitches, you think..." Ollie had turned into a gray-haired locomotive, with emphasis on the "loco.”

Tony put his sandwich and favorite cup down on the stack and as Ollie got about two feet away from Nick, Tony stood, picked up Nick's open acrylic bottle and splashed the contents into Ollie's face.

Ollie stopped dead in his tracks and began coughing and sputtering the bland mixture out of his mouth and nose while trying to clear his eyes. Everyone in the yard stood still waiting to see what would happen next.

After Ollie finished coughing and got his breath back, he stared at the ground and his shoulders slumped as if someone had pulled the plug on a pool toy.

Nick waited nervously to see if Ollie was going to rally and continue his attack, but the old man kept looking down at something that wasn't there, as the remainders of the stomach soothing mixture dripped from the tip of his nose.

Tony was about to say something but stopped himself. For a few moments, there was only the sound of birds and distant traffic.

Then the sound of an engine and tires on gravel interceded as Murph pulled into the driveway in his silver-gray three-quarter ton. Dust rose and settled as the pickup pulled to stop and the driver's side door opened. David Murphy got out in his usually hurry and then stopped when he saw the scene in front him, everyone frozen in place, like they were paying “Statues.”

"What's goin' on? What'd I miss?" Murphy looked around. It was a very strange picture. What was dripping off Ollie?

"Ollie had some hornets on him. I didn't know how else to get 'em off," Tony said with the nearly empty container still in his hand.

Murph looked at him and squinted one eye. "Really. Hornets." He looked around the others. "Anything else?"

Except for Ollie, he saw only shrugs and raised eyebrows from the group. Ollie just kept looking at the ground.

"Ollie? You OK?" Murph asked.

Ollie paused for few moments and then, slowly lifting his face and looking at Tony he said, "Yeah. I'm OK, Murph," and then to Tony, "Thanks."

Murphy looked at his watch. "All right, 10 minutes and back to work. OK guys?"

A lot of nods and mumbles and Murphy reached into the back of the pickup, grabbed a box and said, "I'll put the hangers over by the trailer, Nick. Let's get the joists set right after lunch. Got it?"

"Right, Murph. Right after lunch." He sat back down on the plywood stack as Ollie turned around and walked back toward the pile of sand.

As Tony sat down, Nick turned to him. "Can I have some of your coffee?"

"Fuck off, ya mooch. I'm not your wife," Tony said, as he handed him the Thermos.

* * *