Freddy Character Analysis

Freddy lived at the dead end of the street. As Clark and I got closer I could hear the snarl of a chain saw from the woods behind the house. Freddy and I used to lose ourselves all day in there. I hung back while Clark went up to the house and knocked.

She turned to me, her eyes so sad I had to force myself not to look away. “I can’t get over how you’ve grown,” she said. “Freddy, hasn’t he grown?”

“Like a weed,” Freddy said.

“By leaps and bounds,” I said, falling into our old game in spite of myself.

Clark looked back and forth between us.

It was grisly stuff, and he didn’t scrimp on details or try to hide his pleasure in them, or in the starchy phrases he’d picked up from whatever book he was reading. That was Freddy for you. Gentle as a lamb, but very big on Vikings and Aztecs and Genghis Khan and the Crusaders, all the great old disembowlers and eyeball gougers. So was I. It was an interest we shared. Clark listened, looking a little stunned.

Such panic…where did it come from? It couldn’t have been just the situation at Freddy’s. The shakiness of my own family was becoming more and more apparent. At the time I didn’t admit to this knowledge, not for a moment, but it was always there, lingering in the gut: a sourness of foreboding, a cramp of alarm at any sign of misfortune or weakness in others, as if such things were catching.

“Past her prime—has been for years.”

“Yessir,” Freddy said. “She’s long in the tooth and that’s a fact.”

“Ready for the pasture,” I said.

“Over the hill,” Freddy said.

“That’s it exactly,” Ivan said. “I just can’t bring myself to sell her.” His jaw started quaking and I thought with horror that he was about to cry. But he didn’t. He caught his lower lip under his teeth, sucked it musingly, and pushed it out again.

It was impossible to dig and keep your feet, especially as we got deeper, Finally I gave up and knelt down to work—I got more leverage that way—and Clark and Freddy followed suit. I was sheathed in mud up to my waist and elbows. My condition was hopeless, so I stopped trying to spare myself and just let go. I surrendered to the spirit of the mud. It’s fair to say I wallowed.

“He seems okay. You know him better than I do.”

“Freddy’s great, it’s just…”

Clark waited for me to finish. When it was clear that I wasn’t going to, he said, “Whatever you want.”

I told him that all things considered, I’d just as soon keep it to the two of us.

Freddy lived at the dead end of the street. As Clark and I got closer I could hear the snarl of a chain saw from the woods behind the house. Freddy and I used to lose ourselves all day in there. I hung back while Clark went up to the house and knocked.

She turned to me, her eyes so sad I had to force myself not to look away. “I can’t get over how you’ve grown,” she said. “Freddy, hasn’t he grown?”

“Like a weed,” Freddy said.

“By leaps and bounds,” I said, falling into our old game in spite of myself.

Clark looked back and forth between us.

It was grisly stuff, and he didn’t scrimp on details or try to hide his pleasure in them, or in the starchy phrases he’d picked up from whatever book he was reading. That was Freddy for you. Gentle as a lamb, but very big on Vikings and Aztecs and Genghis Khan and the Crusaders, all the great old disembowlers and eyeball gougers. So was I. It was an interest we shared. Clark listened, looking a little stunned.

Such panic…where did it come from? It couldn’t have been just the situation at Freddy’s. The shakiness of my own family was becoming more and more apparent. At the time I didn’t admit to this knowledge, not for a moment, but it was always there, lingering in the gut: a sourness of foreboding, a cramp of alarm at any sign of misfortune or weakness in others, as if such things were catching.

“Past her prime—has been for years.”

“Yessir,” Freddy said. “She’s long in the tooth and that’s a fact.”

“Ready for the pasture,” I said.

“Over the hill,” Freddy said.

“That’s it exactly,” Ivan said. “I just can’t bring myself to sell her.” His jaw started quaking and I thought with horror that he was about to cry. But he didn’t. He caught his lower lip under his teeth, sucked it musingly, and pushed it out again.

It was impossible to dig and keep your feet, especially as we got deeper, Finally I gave up and knelt down to work—I got more leverage that way—and Clark and Freddy followed suit. I was sheathed in mud up to my waist and elbows. My condition was hopeless, so I stopped trying to spare myself and just let go. I surrendered to the spirit of the mud. It’s fair to say I wallowed.

“He seems okay. You know him better than I do.”

“Freddy’s great, it’s just…”

Clark waited for me to finish. When it was clear that I wasn’t going to, he said, “Whatever you want.”

I told him that all things considered, I’d just as soon keep it to the two of us.