An Extended Conversation with James "Sawyer" Ford

An Extended Conversation with James "Sawyer" Ford, Part One.
The Man we all know as "Sawyer", has agreed to chat with me, providing I'm the one buying the drinks.I drove to our designated meeting place to find him already waiting, a Marlboro hanging from his lips.And he, appearing to be engaged in quiet thought, eyes closed, says to me, " Well now! Nice of you to show up, Happy Hour's almost over, you sure you got enough scratch to cover this adventure?" I nod assent. "I don't know about you, but I plan on doing some drinking, hope you can keep up.." He gets in the car, and we drive to this crusty hole in the wall dive called 'Down Time' and proceed inside. Through a smoky haze I can see this is a place where folks come to not be seen, while they enjoy cheap beer, strong liquor, and time away from the wife. There are few customers, and no one even gives us a second glance. I sidle up to the bar, trying to look tougher than I appear, and order up the Wild Turkey. The barman pours out a shot, and I drink it down at once, shivering with the warm burning sensation that is beginning to spread from my throat down into my belly. Sawyer has taken up a seat in the back of the joint, looking surly as usual. I can tell this is a place he frequents often, where he can do his drinking like he wants, alone. The barman glances at him and sets down two double glasses, and the bottle. "Looks like youre gonna need this.. that'll be a hunded and eight bucks." I pay the man with a c- note and a sawbuck, and he looks at me funny and says, "What, no tip?" I hand over a twenty to the man, and he grunts and puts the tip in his pocket, and the tab in the register. and continues his ignoring of me. I take the bottle and glasses to the back where Sawyer is seated, and sit down. Sawyer pours himself four fingers, then drains the glass and pours two more. He looks at me like I've got three heads, and tells me, " Boy, by my count your'e behind by three drinks, you better be catching up." He pours me three fingers, and I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, wondering if I have the fortitude to go shot for shot with this man. " I see you trying to figure if you got the stones to keep up, come on now, aint no big deal, you just swallow it" I put the glass to my lips and slowly turn the bottom up, savoring the sweet burn. Sawyer smiles at me, and says"Alrighty then, let's get down to it." He swills back his shooter, and slams the glass onto the table with a pop. "You said you want to know about me, where I came from and such, you ready to start listening?" I nod, very seriously. "You know all about how my dad killed my mom, and why. Its the parts between then and now you want to know aint it? Well, it aint been no picnic thats for damn sure" I could see something visibly change in him, as if he went from being merely annoyed, to full on angry at the world. I would have to tread lightly. "Would you share it with me?, I asked gingerly. " I'm plannin on it, if you give me a damn second.." he slowly pours himself a shot, and swirling it like I did before, he looks at me with a deadman's stare. " I'm gonna tell you some shit, and don't you be looking down at me for it, or I'll kill you dead where you sit." He downs the shot and begins. " When all that shit went down, i just froze up. I didnt come out from under that bed until the cops dragged me out. I bit that one cop's hand so hard it bled instantly. I 'll tell you right now, I was scared shitless. They tried covering my eyes as we left the room, but I had to look, and that memory won't never go away. You ever seen someones brains blown all over the room? It aint pretty. There was this rookie cop, and he must have never seen nothing like that before neither, cuz he was pale as a bedsheet. He took one look at me, then ran to the toilet. I could hear him blowing chunks into that bowl, and then another cop yelling at him. It freaked me out for a second, I thought my dad had got up from that mess and was coming to get me, so I started wailing to beat the band. They got me out of there pretty quick, and gave me over to this pretty lady. I was still a might upset, and by this time I had been screaming my head off for almost an hour. I was getting hoarse from bawling, and the pretty lady was doing everything she could to calm me down. I just didnt want to stop crying, even after it started to hurt my throat. She picked me up and held me tight against her chest, and I calmed down a bit. She had such nice soft skin, and she smelled like an angel. She started to sing me some kind of lullaby, and I fell asleep in her arms. While I was asleep, I had a night mare that wouldnt quit, It just kept happening over and over, the gunshot, then a pause then another gunshot, and red spraying the wall behind me. In the dream I got up out of there and ran into the next room to find the same scene replayed itself, only this time, It was me who had the gun pointed, and I felt myself pulling the trigger, and then being half deaf, wandering away and feeling myself press the gun to my head, pulling the hammer back, and then, I woke up and was soaking wet from pissing myself. I was so embarrassed, but the pretty lady was so nice about it. She went into her trunk and got out some pants that fit me fine. I asked how she knew, and she told me, that this is her job, and that she would bring me to a new home in the morning..."He trailed off in that moment, and made busy pouring new rounds. Silently watching him, I saw behind his eyes. There, a fire was burning, but more than that , I feel it was the utter, futile agony of one who has Lost All that they ever knew in Life...

Part Two
After taking a short restroom break, for which i
was thoroughly chided, (he asked if I had fallen,
in, and when I said no, he asked again for
reassurance, more for his part than my own), we
resumed our conversation, as we had left off, he
being relegated to a foster home..."Now we get there and are let in the door by some
scruffy looking teenager with the demeanor of a
struck match, and the rest of them werent too
pretty neither, but we'll get to that in a minute. So
the Old Lady comes out and makes nice, she's
extremely verbose, though jolly in a fruity sort of
way. One might even go so far as to say she was
down right bellicose, and tutti-fruitti. She
Introduced me to her sons, Nicky was the oldest
at 18 and lived in an apartment elsewhere, and I
never ended up knowing him too well. Stan was 16, and more delinquent than the law allowed for,
as it became quite obvious. And then she leads
me over to the couch, and theres this kid who
looked paralyzed, she says"** " This is William.
He's your brother I want you to love him, he cant
talk or walk like most boys, but we love him even
more for it. We call him the Beetle."* " I was just
shocked and amazed at the condition of this boy,
it seemed he needed alot of attention, and I was
right, soon to find out. Obviously this weren't no
ordinary household. But that Social Worker lady
apparently thought they were alright because she
left me there. The husband Frank got home from
working not too much after that, and stayed with
the Beetle while the Old Lady took me shopping
for an outfit. She was laughing to herself because
of the pants that lady had given me were for a girl
or something. Anyways, she wanted to take
pictures of me. So we get to the mall and go into
the department store and I go right for the Nice
Expensive Racks of the kids clothes , and I start
eyeing this white Osh Kosh Bgosh Overall thing,
with a blue shirt . She comes up behind me and
states that I have nice taste and that she would
take two." Sawyer paused and looked around the
bar and in hushed tones, whispered to me in his
deep rich smokey bourbon voice. "You don't
know what kind of a man this is supposed to
make me feel like, but i felt sick in my stomach. I
knew right there this lady was Plum Crazy. Coo-
Coo Like a Clock. Bananas. Right Off her Rocker.I didnt know Half of the extent of it yet.. not even close."