3: Magnetic Island-3
332 Words
FROM HIS VANTAGE POINT, Duck saw Ryan’s massive frame grace the entrance of the diner coming towards him, at the same time gesturing for him to remain seated. Dressed in his usual faded shirt, shorts, and red non-slip Crocs, Ryan scooted his bum on a seat opposite him.
Duck had dried his tears in the nick of time.
‘So?’ Ryan said as he pulled the half-eaten pancakes toward him and unceremoniously poured an extra dollop of maple syrup on it.
Duck watched the sweet-toothed frogman devour his cold leftovers. It never ceased to amaze him how for all the sugar he consumed, Ryan’s heart rate, blood pressure, and cholesterol levels had always been spot on.
Duck motioned for the waitress to come over.
‘One more cappuccino,’ he said, adding, ‘and ask this git what he wants to drink.’
Ryan swallowed a mouthful, ordered a latte, no sugar and another huge serving of pancakes.
‘Greedy bastard,’ Duck mumbled under his breath, earning a giggle from the waitress.
Ryan ignored the verbal jab and continued to eat Duck’s leftovers with enthusiasm, relishing the fact that another serving was forthcoming. When he was done, he wiped his mouth, draped a long arm across the backrest of the bench, and eyed Duck closely.
Ryan asked Duck, pointedly, what was the matter in his usual laconic way: ‘So?’
He was aware that his best mate was on sick leave for another couple of months, having just been fitted with a prosthesis; and, presently still in the thick of rehab and pain management.
Duck bullshitted with, ‘I’m bored to death at home.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Bullshit!’
The arrival of the pancakes saved Duck. But before Ryan tucked into his breakfast, he eyeballed his friend. Without saying a word, as only a good mate could, Ryan said that he, Duck, wasn’t going to be able to run from his s**t. He had to deal with it.
Ryan then stabbed the pancake with a fork. The sound of the cutlery hitting the plate made Duck wince inwardly. A fork in his heart was how it was for him at that moment.
*
- Writer
