85 A Childhood Friend’s in Trouble
1629 Words
Noah was silent for a moment. His mind was occupied with thought after thought that it was already blocking the words that would come out of his mouth.
Fitch began walking outside his balcony. Noah stared at his movements until he reached the cemented railings. His friend stared aimlessly at the plains below.
With ample curiosity, Noah headed beside him.
His eyes drifted below. Vines occupied most of the walls of his four-story farmhouse. Some of it brown and dry, the other ones that sprouted from the opposite side are lush and alive.
Leaning his elbow on the damp railing, Noah ran a hand through his hair. “What’s up? Why leave now?”
“A friend is in need of me back home.”
The answer he got was Noah’s curious hum. “Can I ask who?”
Facing him, Fitch said, “I think you had already attempted to ask,” he laughed a little afterward.
Noah managed to pull a half smile. “Does that mean that you’re not able to attend Robert’s wedding?”
“It’s a possibility,” he replied honestly.
“How much of a possibility is it?” Noah’s friend was running in circles he can’t break from.
Fitch crossed his arms over his chest, “Are you asking me to put it in percentage?”
Noah smiled more easily now, “If you can, why not?”
His friends eyes met with the clear sky, the sun asking it’s color on half of his face, “I would say twenty.”
“Twenty?” Noah echoed. It was a low possibility. Now, he wondered what would have made Fitch ditch one of his bestfriend’s wedding? And besides, the other friend he was talking about—was he or she really that important? More important than Robert’s or any of their weddings?
With honesty and contempt, Noah was tempted to ask. As he stared at Fitch’s stiff face, he had an inkling that what he was going through must have been difficult. Perhaps, in a way, the urgency of the matter on the said other friend was already grave. What else would it be?
The cold breeze that caressed Noah’s back brought down a chill on his spine. He shivered a little, and later on, his hands found themselves in his own body, embracing himself to prevent the cold from slipping inside him any further.
“But if I make it in time, would you come pick me up?” Fitch asked, and it was a favor he rarely spoke about.
Noah was silent for a while. Maybe it was both the pressure and stress from work. Maybe it was the rattling box in his mind, a certain memory already wanting to break free. So, Noah tightened the lock and pushed it further at the back of his mind.
“I can do that,” he responded while walking back inside his room.
To his surprise, Fitch remained on the balcony’s railing, his eyes focused on the mesmerizing view of the daybreak. The sun rose like it was king, the mountains dimming for seconds.
“Not coming inside?” Noah called as he held one hand on the double doors’ lock. “It’s freezing here.”
Fitch didn’t answer, but Noah listened to the gentle song of the breeze that visited his personal space. Ahead of him, the sun was fully showing its self, and every creature nearby reveled in the shine it brought. The entire Stream Ranch rose from their beds, and another day was starting to resurface.
Noah was among the minority who wished it was still night time. What if instead of the day becoming longer, it was the night
Then, slowly, Fitch turned his head toward Noah, “You’re right.”
Raising one eyebrow, Noah moving further away from the door, “Whatever are you saying?” he’s got no time for riddles. He was tired, he lacked sleep, and he missed the woman who would no longer go back to this wonderful place.
“About this place being cold.”
Noah halted in his steps, and in turn, he, instead, heard the tapping soles of Fitch’s shoe.
“Hey,” he called as he turned around to meet his friend’s eyes. “Is something the matter?” this time, Noah was genuinely curious as to what was happening in Fitch’s life.
“I told you, I need to go back home to help a friend, and that’s it,” Fitch answered without any hint of unsureness crossing his irises.
Noah pressed the subject further, “Are you sure about that?”
Fitch nodded, “I’m positive about it.”
Noah observed his face for a few seconds. He couldn’t find anything in his neutral expression. “Would you like to talk about this through breakfast? See if everyone can help ease the burden on your shoulders?” he offered sincerely.
The smile that appeared on Fitch’s face wasn’t the usual one he shows to people close to him. Noah knew for some reason that he was lying about something. And he’s not exactly sure which among Fitch’s statement he can hold onto as the truth.
Before Noah entered the bath, he looked at Fitch near his bedroom door, “Go and have breakfast. I’ll be there before you know it,” he said with a grin.
Fitch nodded, a half-smile playing on his lips.
* * *
Water rolled down his long legs, and Noah quickly shrugged them off. The towel he hanged on the rack was still wet, and the mirror in front moist from the heat of Noah’s shower.
He glimpsed the reflection of him in the mirror. He’s not that bad though. He just looked stressed out in life. The layers of bags underneath his brown eyes made him look like he was a year older than the rest of his friends. His lips were chopped, its natural color making it all the more dull.
Slumping the towel over his shoulder, Noah walked out of the bathroom. After a minute or so, he was dressed in his usual attire for a day’s worth of tending the animals and inspecting the weeds they grew on his rich plains.
Noah had never realized how hard it was to climb down the stairs. His body felt stiff, every inch of it weighing like a sack of rice he didn’t intend to carry all by himself.
Once he reached the arc leading to the kitchen, Noah rounded a corner and went straight to the kitchen counter. Fitch turned to him, the newspaper he was reading placed neatly on the marbled table.
“That was fast,” he remarked as he sipped the coffee Nancy made.
The front door creaked, and Nancy strode inside, her sandy hair tied in a bun. Sweat lined her brows as she wiped it clean on her sleeves.
Upon arriving at the kitchen, she noticed Noah and Fitch’s presence.
“Good morning,” she greeted with a cheerful smile. Her eyes curved, and Noah waved in response.
Nancy focused on the kettle behind Noah. With accurate speed, she had it snatched in her hand, a cup placed in front of Noah. Soon, the brewed coffee’s aroma filled the entire room.
Whispering his thanks, Nancy gave him another smile in response. Before she headed outside, she grabbed a tumbler filled with cold water as her morning refreshment.
“I’m taking Snowflake with me,” she announced as she fixed her hat, “Diana’s not coming by lately, and the mare seems to miss her.”
She wasn’t the only one missing the said woman, but Noah quickly shoved her image away. Not now—it never will.
“Oh?” Fitch answered the moment Nancy stepped between the two of them. “I hadn’t noticed,” he remarked, his eyes scanning the column about business in the newspaper before him.
Nancy faced Noah, “Could you tell her to come? Snowflake doesn’t like to eat much now adays.”
Noah had been too busy with work that he wasn’t paying attention to his horses’ health. “She is?” Noah asked for confirmation.
Nancy nodded earnestly, “I must call her one day,” she replied to no one in particular. “Anyway, I’m heading back. I just wanted to let you know how Snowflake is doing. This could be bad for her mental health. Horses have that, too, you know?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Noah said in a flat voice.
Nancy stopped on her tracks and looked warily at him. She didn’t say anything about Diana, but the way she stared at Noah made him uncomfortable. Of course, in his outward appearance, he wasn’t the least bit bothered by it.
When Nancy exited the house, Noah turned to Fitch, “About the friend we were talking about…”
“Yes, that friend,” Fitch responded as he was still immersed in what he’s reading. His eyes scanned fast, and after a while, he finally closed it. “The said friend is into a big trouble.”
Noah lifted the cup to his mouth, “And I assume the said friend has problems with money.”
“You hit the bull’s eye everytime, and it’s becoming scary,” his Italian friend regarded, the line on his forehead visible, “and it has something to do with officialdom.”
“Politics,” Noah emphasized before he drank a gulp of his coffee, “and is that why no one wanted to help?”
Fitch tipped his head down, “Yes. It’s because it has something to do with politics.”
“What’s the problem, then?” Noah pressed. “You seem to be eager in helping him. What’s stopping you from doing so?”
The wind from the open window grazed Noah’s face. Fitch looked ahead the same time Noah bowed his head, “The said friend’s family is blaming me.”
“For what?” Noah asked gently this time.
“For the trouble the friend’s been going through,” Fitch answered without any hesitation. “That’s why I’m staying in Knox for a while.”
Noah knew the implication of politics mixed with officialdom. It’s oil and water, thunder and lighting—a match that would never cross paths.
“And Robert’s wedding?” Noah also wanted to ask about Cora, but he held his tongue.
His Italian friend turned around and jumped down on his seat at the counter, “I’ve decided to go, but I would have to wait for you there.”
“Then, it’s settled,” Noah responded, “let me know when you need a ride to the airport,” said Noah as he walked to the front door and waved good bye to Fitch who did the same.
- Writer
