An Apple Pie

How far can get a person to get what one wants.

 

  We have known each other for many years. I remember we met in a shopping mal; whilst I was unloading my food trolley, the man next to me dropped a large cat food jag on my foot.

   ‘May lightning strike me if you haven’t done it on purpose!’ I exclaimed, looking for something as heavy as the jag to get my revenge.

   ‘Good Lord, I apologise for this unwilled misdoing’ quickly said my offender before I could react, ‘May I buy you some jellies?’

   At that moment I thought he was mentally disabled. I meet such individuals quite often on the streets, especially in the evening, who beg for change and call me a rich b*****d. God forbid you refuse them, as they will find where you live and start knocking your door. ‘Got some change, b*****d?’ Want to create a system error? Answer negatively and ask the same question. Once you hear “no”, call one “a rich b*****d” and enjoy the result. You have about 10 seconds to flee safely.

   ‘You are normal?’

   ‘I am; You?’

   ‘I’m Andrew’

   ‘I’m Archy’

   ‘Buy the jellies then’

   The first few years we weren’t really close. We were meeting on rare occasions, getting together on holidays and drinking ourselves to death.

   ‘I drink, but never get drunk’ Archy once said; though after the fifth alcho-candy he kept trying to teach me pottery for hours.

   Some time later we had loved the same girl, both having the best intentions. I was angry and assured kidnapping and torturing was my choice. Archy and I decided to meet on a neutral territory. I put on my black coat with a hood, grabbed a bread knife and left. I arrived at the exact time, and my friends have been already waiting for me.

   'Late.'

   'No, I had arrived ten minutes before you.’

   ‘And I had arrived twenty minutes before you arrived.’

   ‘Where had you been then?’

   ‘Walked in circles, anyway. It’s you to eat the cold pie.’

   I wanted to ask him about the cold pie he mentioned, but I wasn’t fast enough as he rushed forward and entered a café. I followed him, and we sit the table near the window. You could see a monument of some dead poet through it across the road. I started giving Archy my famous drilling glance, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He ordered a tea, smiled to a waitress twice and started rootling in his bag. He took out a roll, unwrapped it, and put it on the table.

   ‘I brought you this pie that I’d made myself’ said Archy, ‘I came here with the one reason: to hug you and tell you’re my friend, as I won’t let some girl ruin it.

   ‘You being serious?’ I asked, quickly hiding my bread knife brought behind the back.

   ‘I brought the pie I had made myself,’ Archy repeated, ‘so we could share it. Let it be a symbol of our broship.

   I kept silence. I expected anything but this, even the absolutely fantastic fight resulting in me losing my natural beauty. Everything. I stretched out my hand and touched the pie with my finger. Smelled it. Like reading my mind, Archy took a slice and had a bite. Not poisoned then.  I had a try myself:

   ‘A pretty good pie it is. Did you really make it or either bought in a local patisserie? ‘

   ‘Spent my morning’ confirmed my friend.

   Harmony was reached. A bit later Archy invited me for a dinner, what actually had never happened before. I also never insisted in seeing his flat; I could always have a petit dejeuner and a shower at one of my numberless girlfriends.

   ‘Saturday is ok? You can stay " I’ve got Xbox’ Archy asked. If I weren’t sure in my friend’s traditional orientation I would probably suspect him implicating something under the “Xbox”. However, I once caught him doing funny stuff to a girl in a club, so that kept me confident. Not that I’m not tolerant " just was going to the old school.

   ‘Ok’ I said and came on Saturday.

   His flat was neither big nor small. Two floors: a living room and a kitchen on the first, two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second. There were some abstract paintings on the walls. " I personally liked a man with a magnum-sized hole in his chest, hatting to a woman. Something has suddenly touched my leg, scaring me to hell.

   ‘That’s Cream,’ said Archy, ‘The cat of mine’.

  ‘I prefer milk’ I said, watching Archy taking the cat and throwing it in the air and making him walk on its back paws. What a waste of the animal’s life. However, continuing watching, I was raising some memories in my head. I remembered I had wanted to have a cat when I was a kid, exactly the same one I could see in front of me.

   “God, no,” my mum said that time, “What a waste of money. By the way, you got to study, your grades are somewhere below the ground. Who’s the one who brought “C” yesterday? It was you, wasn’t it?”

   “Boy,” my dad said that time, “You’ve got your PlayStation, why the hell wishing a cat? That’s not boy’s stuff. Go play and shoot some creeps”

  'My mum’s birthday present’ said Archy and cuddled Cream. I noticed my hand shivering. Parkinson’s? Scary.

   ‘Are you alright, mate? Shall I put the kettle on and get you some tea?’

   'N-n-n-o. C-c-c-…'

   'Cognac?'

   'C-c-c-coffee. Strong please.'

   'I'll there in a minute.’

   I sat on the chair and started cuddling the cat, feeling as some devils perform their infernal dances in my stomach. Archy would say later that Cream’s actually 7, which means he could technically be mine, ‘cause I’ve started wishing a cat somewhere around my thirteenth birthday. It might sound odd for a kid I was to want a cat, but still it was true. I can’t really explain my passion towards cats; I just feel happy being next to them, and I feel resistless desire to cuddle one. My aunt, who’s been dead by now, used to keep twelve cats in her house. Unfortunately, they all died of hunger, due to her pathological inability to remember animals required feeding. This story always makes feel sad. If I had twelve cats, they would have never suffered from the lack of food and would’ve probably found their end in more positive circumstances if I may turn it this way. 

   'Give it to me’, I said the next, being completely unable to fight the torment.

   ‘Excuse me?’

   The cat was sitting on my knees and making weird but I guess, happy noises.

   ‘Give me the cat’, I looked Archy in the eyes.

   ‘Ok, man, I’ll buy you one when you have your birthday or something.

   He turned his back on me and continued doing his business. Watching some film on TV. I’ve waited for a moment, and being unable to wait anymore, grabbed him by his shoulder:

   ‘I want your cat! Please, give him to me!’

   ‘But Cream’s my cat’ Archy looked astonished.

   'Show me your true friendship’.

   ‘ But I really can’t. I’m used to it. I like it, I can’t, sorry’.

   ‘Sell him, then’, I got my wallet out, ‘ How much do you want?’

   ‘Bro’, Archy switched off the TV and smiled warmly to me, ‘you should realise the cat’s mine, it’s lived with me from the beginning and its used to me. I just can’t give it away. Can’t sell it either. I’m sorry.

   I kept silence.

   ‘You can go to the shop or surf the Internet, I can help you, if you want’, Archy continued, ‘Everything will be ok…’

    I couldn’t fight it " I cried. The feeling was powerful and horrible: standing so close to your dream, but at the same time being far away from it. I cuddle Cream, refusing to let him go. Archy tried unsuccessfully to calm me down, but finally gave up and went to his room. I chilled only few hours later.

   A week has passed, and I still tried my best to avoid leaving my room without a particularly good reason. Each time I saw the cat that was only bringing a lump in my throat and making me lose control over my legs. However, sometimes while Archy was absent, I allowed myself to go downstairs and hold the cat. At these moments every cell of my body was shining like a tiny star, and I wanted to dance.  Sometimes we played together, hence having a great time, which was usually stopped with a sound of a turning key in a keyhole. That usually made us upset. It’s like a teen, who stayed at home alone, consumed loads of champagne and listened to loud music, suddenly heard his parents opening a front door.

   ‘Have you been indoors the whole day?’ asked my friend.

   ‘I feel sick’

   ‘Go see a doctor’

   ‘Nyet’

   ‘Lina is having dinner with us today; Fancy joining?’

   ‘Have fun, but not too loud.’

   A month of my life has been wasted like that. When I started feeling this is going to last forever, in the middle of October things changed. Archy came home early and angry, didn’t say a word and went to his room.

   ‘Broke up with a girl?’ I tried to take a guess, ‘Or lost his job. It’s only me, who can write an article for some local paper and do nothing for a week. Journalism used to be paid better thirty years ago, but it’s still fine though.

   That night I couldn’t sleep.  Somewhere downstairs I heard Cream producing weird sounds and scratching walls. In my imagination Archy was opening my door and giving me a pie, saying: ‘there are plenty of cats in the world, but you would never find a friend better than me.’ Then he was starting a chainsaw and running around chasing the cat.

   I woke up, sweating, around 7 a.m. and opened the window, taking a deep breath. Trees outside became naked to early this year, getting me the feeling of despair. Some boys were playing basketball, and for some reason I wanted to swill them with cold water like in good old times.

   Archy has already been in the kitchen, sitting the table and looking gloomy.

   ‘Glad you’re awake,’ he said, ‘we need to talk.’

   I took a sit.

   ‘You haven’t been yourself for past month, and we both know the reason. I guess it would be a good idea for you to leave.  Maybe to live somewhere in another place maybe your own flat. I recall you having one.

   I didn’t like my flat " there was never warm water there. But I got the idea: he wanted to get rid of me. Fine, but the cat. I won’t be able to see him.

   ‘You wouldn’t be able too see the cat. For your own good,’ my friend continued, ‘When you’re fine, we’ll go together and buy you your own cat.’

   'But…'

   ' I help you to pack your stuff after we have breakfast.’

   Archy turned around to a cooker, where something has already started to fizzle. Omelette du fromage. He could never make it well.

   I was thinking quickly as needed to do something.  I just couldn’t split with Cream. He became everything for me: my dream, my desire, my life. Separating him from me was simply the same as tearing me apart. 

   'Don't' I whispered.

   'Almost done!’ said Archy. He was still showing me his back. Cream was cuddling my leg. There was a teflon pan lying on the table.

   ‘I’m sorry’ I said and got ready to strike. A good-quality teflon pan  can knockout a bear with some effort put. Archy suspected something and started slowly turning around. At the same time a took the pan and hit his hindhead. Archy didn’t make a sound " just fell on the floor, dropping the pan with the omelette. Splash.

   I was breathing heavily. I would probably regret my actions, but he was no more standing on my way. I took Cream and prepared to leave. Archy suddenly moved.

   It was impossible. I glimpsed on the pan " this one could kill, but Archy has been already recovering himself. So I started running. I was afraid my happiness might end.

   It was so sunny outside that I’ve been left blind for several seconds. My eyes probably were not used to the light after the month of me staying indoors.

   ‘STOP!’ I heard. I looked up and saw Archy, screaming from the window on the second floor. A moment after his face disappeared, hence he followed me.

   ‘Are you mine? I asked Cream. He meowed. And I continued running with all my might, carrying my trophy.

   Archy has always been a good runner, ad he was proving that this time. I’ve heard him chasing me. Hope’s been helping me, but started realising that might be not enough due to my lack of fitness.

   ‘Stop right there, you criminal scum! Stop!’

   ‘He’s mine now!’ I yelled back not slowing down. 

   ‘Stop, friend, stop, please, this is wrong. You can’t do things like that! Stop, please! Stop or I’ll break your face! Knock out all your teeth! Hate you, you goddamn traitor, stop, I tell you!’

   I wasn’t stopping and tried not to pay attention. He’s been wasting his precious breath, what has actually been working for me. We were passing Borough-High Street, people were staring at us, but we weren’t slowing down.

   ‘Bro, please, stop, so we talk! I beg you, stop, friend! Ok, you can take it, but stop for a moment so we could discuss it! Be a man! For our friendship! That would be fair, Andrew, stop! Let me have a look at it for the last time! I will give you some money for it. I…I…I can’t anymore….Stop…’

   I didn’t. He fell behind. I run under the bridge and continued to the west. My dream was in my arms, and I held him tight.

   The wind was getting stronger, and I started feeling cold. I lost something during my run   - my right Converse.