A Real Friend

The door slammed as I leaned against it with a sigh. Another lead that didn’t pan out. I sighed.

“Fitz,” Ambrose called from the study.

“It’s me!” I plodded over and ruffled my hair. I leaned on the doorframe, watching as my brother sorted through his mess of papers and the laptop with his reading glasses on. I quirked my lips, the closest thing to a smile I ever got in eight years. He reminded me of Father in my childhood memories before everything crumbled. They looked one and the same: a tall man with a pencil moustache and black slicked-back hair, busy working in a cozy room where the lights were as warm as the fireplace. Father often wore a tailored suit of a black-sheened vest over a white cotton dress shirt, trousers with braces; his jacket made him too warm in addition to the fire, so he often neatly hung it on the back of his chair to avoid creases. Ambrose looked no different. I wondered if it was a conscious decision.

“Oh, Fitz.” He took his glasses off. “Sit down.”

I noticed Luke sitting in the chair opposite of the desk. He looked concerned but trying to hide it. His hair was a little grey. All the stress from the past years, it all got to us in different ways.

“Luke. What are you doing here at this hour?” I removed my jacket. “Not that it’s not lovely to see my old friend. You obviously have something on your mind, so this is not a social visit and neither of us needs a doctor.” I crossed my legs, propping my hand against my temple. “Well?”

“Ambrose called me.” He pressed his lips.

“Why? What…Ohhh. I know what this is.”

“Fitz, I called Luke here because we’re worried about and you listen to him more than me.”

“Yes, right.” I quirked the corner of my lips.

“You’ve been chasing down leads and investigating at all hours of the day for the past three weeks. You don’t sleep. You barely eat.”

“Your point is?”

“This can go on no longer. It has to stop.”

“What Ambrose is saying is…You need to take a break before you collapse.” Luke leaned forward.

“I will. When I find Desereè.” I furrowed my brow.

“Ah. No, you need to take some time off right now. You look like garbage.”

“How very doctory of you..” I stood to walk away with sigh. I didn’t have time for this. “I’m going to get a drink.”

“For God’s sake, Fitz, you can’t find her if your dead!” Ambrose said as I passed the threshold.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“What I need to.”

I turned on my heel. “The woman I love has been gone for almost a month, and you want to stop me from doing everything I can to find her?”

“You’re not the only one working on this. We have everyone on this.”

I huffed.

“Fitz,” Ambrose assumed a softer tone. “I am not telling you to stop completely. I am warning you to rest before you can barely function.”

“I am fine.” I curled my fingers in frustration.

“Really? I don’t think that word means what you use it to mean. You’re trying so hard to distract yourself from the feeling of losing her that you’re close to losing yourself.”

“Leave me alone. I can take care of myself.”

“No.”

“Ambrose, stop meddling.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m leaving.”

“Then I’m pulling access to your sources.”

“They are my sources! You can’t just—”

Ambrose took a step forward. “You are my responsibility! And I’ll be damned if I let you destroy yourself because you refuse to let anyone help you. Stand down, or I am pulling you off the case and making sure there is no one you can talk to for information.”

I glanced at the floor and lowered my voice. “Ambrose. Don’t. I am the best chance she has.”

“That may be, but if you don’t let yourself deal with this on an emotional level and live like a human being, you won’t be much of a chance anymore.”

I took a deep breath. He was right. They were right. But that didn’t mean I had to like this or listen to it any longer. “I’m going for walk.” I went for the door again.

“Fitz.”

“I said I’m going for a walk!” Slam!

~~~

Ambrose and Luke jumped at the noise.

“That went well.” Luke rose. He knew Fitz wouldn’t take it well, even from his friends.

“He’s stubborn, Luke. We both know that. It’s not news. Most of the times it’s good.”

“But this is not the time to balk on life decisions. I know.”

“Being his big brother doesn’t help. When I try to help him, he often takes it as me being overprotective.” Ambrose rubbed his chin. “It’s not his fault that he’s been on his own for so long, though it doesn’t make it easier for him to trust the people around him.”

“I’ll go talk to him.” Luke patted his shoulder.

Ambrose nodded imperceptibley.

Fitz's steps were clippd as he went down the stairs with his hands over my face. I kicked the pavement and walked off to the raised concrete path that overlooked Atlantic. He couldn’t lose Desereè. He’d rather not live. Girls were not his area, but Desereè wasn’t any girl. She got him. She was the only woman who did. He sniffled. His legs hung off the edge, slowly swaying back and forth. He had to find her bef0re Maurice decided that ripping his heart out was better than slowly torturing him.

Luke ambled towards the spot with his hands in his jeans pockets. “Hey.”

“Hmmm.” Fitz stared pointedly ahead as the waves gently rose and fell. They reflected the mosaic of the sunset, always changing. Here they were, the two amis, with their elbows propped on their knees and fingers folded, with feet hanging off the cool, wooden dock overlooking the shore and a mint green woman in the distance.

“What are you looking at?” Luke turned his gaze to his aloof companion.

“Looking for,” Fitz replied snappishly.

“Oh. My mistake. What are you looking for?” Luke was used to his friend’s antics and took the quirks in playful stride no matter the circumstance, something which Fitz appreciated. Sometimes he could be too hard and cold, and if Luke didn’t have so much patience and understanding, he’d have left Fitz a long time ago. That’s why Luke was one of the fortunate few whom Fitz could call a friend.

As for the object of Fitz’s observation, there was not a yacht or sailboat in sight, so the object was invisible against the expanse of a wistful sky coloured pink and purple with yellow and blue on the fringes, unless one presumed he was admiring the patina of the bronze Statue of Liberty, which was definitely not it.

Fitz glanced at Luke with a ghost of a smile. “My thoughts,” he said in a more friendly tone. He bounced his legs off the wall once and blew out a breath through loose lips.

“Sorry, what? Your thoughts…”

“Yes, Luke, I am looking for my thoughts.” Fitz spread his lips in annoying politeness.

“All right.” Luke patted Fitz’s wrist. “What do they look like? Maybe I can help you- I don't know- find them?”

“Oh, yes, try spotting a bundle of black tangled squiggles that look like yarn a ferocious cat played with.”

They snickered.

“I know it’s hard.”

Fitz snorted. “Hard? No. Difficult and unnerving.”

“Are you-”

“Yes…”

“Let me finish.”

Fitz narrowed his eyes as Luke cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“Appetite and hunger aren’t the same thing.”

“What are you, Webster's Dictionary?"

“Try doctor and your friend.”

“All right.”

“On second thoughts, we could sleep here.”

“I’m not stopping all right? Desereè means the world to me, and I will find her. I will get her back. I know she’s alive. I feel it."

“No, one’s saying she’s not, mate.” Luke sighed and squeezed Fitz’s hand. “But Ambrose is right. You’re not alone in this. You need to stop acting all lone ranger.”

Fitz sighed. A minute passed as they looked on in silence. “All right.”

“Sorry, what?” Luke made a double-take.

“I said all right.”

“That simple?” Luke widended his eyes.

“I’m tired, Luke. I should give in to it before my body makes me. It's becoming too much."

“Okay. I mean, good. At least you’re admitting it.”

Fitz huffed with the hint of a smile. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Well, we’re here for you, Fitz. No matter what.”

“I know. It’s just…an adjustment. I didn’t always have people watching my back. Also, Indian food.”

“Hm?”

“Ahem, Indian food. We could get some Indian food.”

“Erm...right. Of course. Sanjib’s?”

“In a minute.” He sighed. The ominous sunset looked more hopeful than wistful now. The breeze felt warmer. “All right, let’s go.” The two friends strolled down the walkway together, out onto the evening streets of backyard Brooklyn. It turned out that real friends didn’t only come when you called, they stood when you didn’t, when you needed help but were bad at asking for it. You might put up a fight before admitting it, but they were better than that. The good ones didn’t walk away. Maybe Fitz could get used to it some day. And maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he did.