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Where the Wind Blows
x Rainfall Complexity x

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He could see his shadow reflected on the lake’s rippling surface as he crouched low, the fabric of his pants bunching at his thighs. In such a tranquil location he felt out of place, with his polished shoes and rented suit, the flaps of his jacket fanning out in the wind and his tie hanging sloppily over his shoulders as he peered over the dock down into the water’s depths, where the fishes swam unaffected, untouched by the outside world. Arms dangling in front of him, he rested his elbows crookedly against his legs and brushed his fingertips against the moldy wood, the back of his left hand accidentally knocking his half-empty beer bottle. He wanted to dip his hands into that water, to reach into that paradise that swayed to its own rhythm, that remained untouched and unharmed.

He wanted to sink into that blue darkness and never resurface.

“Some party, man.” His clothes stirred as he straightened his shoulders and leaned back on his heels, staring down the length of the dock towards where his good friend was swaggering. The male’s jacket was even more unkempt, and the laces of his shoes tapped with a staccato-like beat against the wooden planks. He danced forward with a shit-eating grin, the mop of his orange-brown hair swaying into the lenses of his glasses, the beer bottle that he held glittering in the dying sunlight. “Hell of a place to hold the reception. You’ve been holding out on me, y’know? But no worries. You’re bound to get laid before the day is through.”

Sighing, he glanced down and ran his fingers through his hair, the dark locks cool and silky to the touch. “Rush, so inappropriate.”

Bradford Rush shrugged, continuing his swagger along the planks until his blundering feet landed him at the dock’s decaying edge, his gray-green eyes scanning the wide expanse of the lake beneath the black rims of his glasses. A breeze picked up along the water’s edge and washed over both boys, and as the zephyr stirred the edges of Rush’s tawny-colored locks, he closed his eyes and inhaled a sharp breath, wishing to be whisked away.

“Just saying,” his friend piped up in the calm, grunting as he fell into a crouch and elbowed the boy back to reality. His lashes fluttering in surprise, he stared for a long minute at the trees drooping and swaying from across the lake, and then he flicked his eyes to the left, fixing Rush with a hard stare. “There’re a lot of heartbroken ladies back there who need a comforting touch…if you catch my drift.” Winking, he reached his arm forward and clinked his glass against the one that had been resting on the dock for the last half-hour, untouched, unwanted, unheeded.

“Shut up,” he muttered with a sigh, his shoulders drooping as he stared hard across the lake.

Rush shrugged again, tilting back on his heels as he took a swig from the bottle. Then, resting his arm against his thigh as the beverage hung loosely in his grasp, he remarked, “You won’t find her out there, Liam.”

Instantly, his mouth felt dry. “Don’t.”

“Hey, man, I know. It’s a crapshoot. It sucks.”

Liam glanced further away, his eyes burning as he continued to knock his hand emptily against his beer glass, his heart picking up its pace as the realization bit once more into his flesh. He could distinguish the suddenly frantic panting of his breath over the gusts of wind, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to be completely disconnected. He wanted to forget everything.

“But do you honestly think for a second that she’d want you out here, deliberating whether or not you really wanna take that jump and end it all? That’s not exactly what “’til death” means.” Liam shot his friend a startled glance, but Rush only gave an exaggerated sigh and tilted his head back to stare at the clouds tainted with the dying day’s light. “But, then again, you always take things so literally.”

For a long time, he remained silent, simply staring at the light-skinned profile of his best friend. The orange-brown bangs dangling before his glasses swayed with the summer breeze, and Rush, in the light of the sun, seemed almost knowledgeable. Almost mature.

Finally, he lowered his eyes to the decaying boards and softly croaked, “Is it a crime to miss someone you love?”

“No. But it is a crime to kill yourself. And really selfish, actually. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but best friends are hard to come by.”

“What’s gotten this stupid idea into your head anyway?” he asked, growing aggravated. “That I’d actually want to kill myself…”

“Because you once said you’d die for her. And I know you meant it.” Sighing, Rush awkwardly scratched his temple. “Anyway man, I know you loved her. I really do. But just think how much it would kill some of us if you did something insanely stupid. I mean, not me, of course,” he remarked with a shrug. “I don’t do the whole…emotional…whatever.” Liam rolled his eyes as Rush waved his hand with a flourish. “But it’s not even worth it. She’d kick your ass anyway, if you suddenly showed up unannounced at Saint Peter’s pearly gates. You more than anyone else should know how much she hates surprises.”

Liam’s eyes began to mist up, and he gave a hollow laugh as he lifted his right arm and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Beside him, Rush cleared his throat, lifting his own hand to place it on the black-haired boy’s shoulder. Liam smiled, too, as his friend gave him a slight, reassuring shake and then pushed himself to his feet, concealing his discomfort by taking another swig of alcohol. Then, shaking the small mouthful of liquid in the glass absently, he gazed out onto the lake for a long, peaceful moment – one that was shattered when he twisted his body slightly, wrenched his arm back, and hurled the alcohol bottle into the air. Liam watched with dismay as it plummeted and splashed into the lake.

“See that? That’s life sucking right there. But with every bad situation, you gotta learn to let things go.” Sliding his hands into his pocket, he shoved Liam in the side with the toe of his sneaker. Rolling his eyes, Liam looked off to his right, away from tawny-haired boy. “Think about it.”

Grunting, he listened to the steady thump of footsteps as Rush swaggered away, another breeze picking up from across the lake and trailing through his hair. Closing his eyes, he listened for her voice on the wind, his heartbeat thrumming in his chest as he attempted to recall her scent, her warmth, her life. No. No, he didn’t want to let things go. He didn’t want her memory to fade away.

“Liam. Seriously.” Jumping slightly, he sent another glance over his shoulder, finding where Rush stood in an instant. The boy stood with his hands still lodged in his dark dress pants, an impatient expression on his face as the lenses of his glasses cradled a glare from the sun. “As your best friend, I advise you to get your sorry ass back to that reception. And by advise, I mean order, because you know I’m stronger than you.”

“Just go,” he called casually, his fingers threading through his gelled and wind-tousled locks and gently fisting stray strands. “Like you said – these funeral chicks put out. You could get lucky tonight.”

“I don’t need luck. It’s called raw skill.” He shrugged, and Liam felt his expression fall into one of dry disbelief. “You, on the other hand, need to come with me.” This being said, he freed his right hand from the confines of his pocket and waved expectantly, even jerking his head somewhat towards the direction of the house. “C’mon. She’s not out there.”

“How would you know?” he replied softly. “This was her favorite place.”

“One that’s not doing her much good now, huh?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re stupid. But I deal with it. You’re a sympathy magnet, after all.”

“Just go.”

“Not if you stay here.”

Sighing, Liam turned his gaze back towards the trees, his fingertips dangling in the air and twitching with the need to do something. Finally, his hands clenched into fists, and he pushed up on his knees, forcing himself out of his couch. He winced as pain ran down along his legs, stumbling slightly on unsteady feet, the toe of his shoe knocking the bottle that he’d abandoned onto its side. Flicking brown eyes towards the twirling glass, he watched for a moment as it swiveled around in a slow circle, the wind playing a small game of chance. Liam rolled his eyes when the bottle finally stopped its course, pointing towards Rush, directing him back to the reception that made him feel as though he was suffocating.

“Wonderful,” he muttered, bending over to retrieve the glass, not feeling so inclined to litter. His fingers curled around the bottle’s neck, and his left hand found its way to his hair as he glanced up, finding Rush instantly among the wildlife. The boy stood with one hand placed casually at his neck and the other lodged deep into his pocket as he watched the house sitting high up on the hill, the wind tugging at the open flaps of his jacket and rustling his hair. He looked untouchable – as if he was on his own pedestal, and no one would ever be able to bring him down. “Hey,” he called, attracting Rush’s attention once more. “What’s with the stupid pose? You’re waiting on me, not modeling for a calendar shoot.”

He grinned widely, flashing brilliant, white teeth as Liam trudged across the wooden planks and rolled his eyes, brushing past the tawny-haired boy. In an instant, Rush was at his side, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “You like? It’s my “heartbreaker” stance. It makes me seem aloof and injured – a soul who needs a woman’s touch to restore his broken heart.” Liam scoffed and shook his head. “Hey, there’s always room for a silent, brooding counterpart, if you want in.”

“I’ll pass,” he drawled, though he couldn’t resist a slight smile.

“Suit yourself,” Rush muttered, flicking his right wrist casually. “But I guess that’s best. You’d be too busy whining over your dead wife anyway.”

“You’re such an asshole,” he sighed, shaking his head in lament.

“I’ll take that as an endearing nickname.”

Rolling his eyes, Liam lifted his chin and glanced towards the dirt path that would take them from the docks through the small grove of trees that stood at the estate’s edge. Rubbing the back of his left hand over his forehead, he sighed, wondering if he was insane for throwing himself back into the festering pit of depression and misery, where every reminder of his half-lived life and deceased wife would slap him straight across the face.

And he stopped, frowning. “Let’s just forget it.”

Rush, forced to a halt as well, leaned forward and peered into Liam’s face, one brow cocked sarcastically. “Um, dude, it’s not like you’re ditching your own birthday party here. This is for your wife. Have a little tact.” Liam shot him a withering glare, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, laugh a little, you jackass.”

Shaking his head, Liam looked away, his eyes burning as he clenched his jaw and dropped his hand to hover just before his nose. As the first tear fell against his will, he cringed and half-turned from Rush’s all-too-keen gray-green eyes, shoulders quivering and lips trembling as he sniffled loudly and then grunted in aggravation, sending the hand that had been hovering in front of his face roughly through his hair. “Gah…” he muttered unsteadily, shaking his head from side to side. “Stupid.”

“You are…” Rush conceded easily, “but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to cry.” Awkwardly, he patted Liam on the shoulder. “So, uh, bring on the waterworks.”

Unable to help himself, he loosed a disbelieving laugh, cradling his temple in his palm as he continued to shake his head. “Why am I friends with you?”

“You secretly wish you were me?” Rush proposed with the slightest smirk.

“Of course. That’s it,” he mumbled sarcastically, and his friend’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile.

“Dude, we have a party to get to,” his friend remarked with urgency, balling his fists and swaying from side to side to emphasize his words. Rubbing the heel of his palm into his left eye, Liam arched his right eyebrow questioningly at the tawny-haired male’s antics. “So either bring on the tears or be like the rest of us men and suck it up until you’re alone in your room and can safely bawl your eyes out. I’m dying here.”

Sighing, Liam gave Rush a slight shove, and as he rubbed the back of his neck he watched his friend quickly straighten his glasses with both hands and then cross his arms over his chest, not bothering with the sloppy appearance of his overcoat or undershirt. Pointedly he tapped his foot, and the black-haired male finally sighed and waved his friend off, tangling his fingers within loose locks of hair as he trekked up the earthen path and kicked dust onto his recently-shined shoes. After a moment’s worth of stamping feet and cracking twigs, Rush reappeared at his side, and the two walked quietly towards the estate, neither looking back.

“You know…” Rush piped up when the silence became too much for him, “on my way out, there was this one girl, very blonde, big boobs--”

“No isn’t a word that’s in your vocabulary, is it?”

“Oh, it is. I just tend to overlook it.”

“No, Rush.”

“You’ll never know you like it unless you try it. I mean, Jenny always liked it when you tried new things.”

“I doubt having sex with strange women was on her list, Rush.”

“You never know. She was pretty liberal.”

“No.”

“Dude, you have to see this gi--”

“No.”

“Widower’s are sexy, you know.”

“Shut up.”

Rush gave him a playful shove, and, for the first time in what felt like years, he truly smiled back.

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For Ana. She asked me to write an original fiction drabble with friendship and humor, and this just sort of...grew.
Feedback is greatly appreciated. Stealing of ideas is not.