“Stop, that hurts,” he barked, confusion in his blue eyes. “Stop!” I wrenched the sword free then tried to hit him again.
“I am not weak and I am not leaving this town!” I yelled inside my mask, the tinny modulator sounding less like Darth Vader and more like a washed-up chocolatier in a soup can. Ryan and Sam arrived then, Ryan slipping his arms around my middle as Sam tugged the toy from my hands. Ryan lifted mefrom my feet, an easy task for Mr. Buff Wood Worker. I kicked so hard I lost a sneaker. “I’m not a failure!” While still squirming mightily, all the fight then left me. “I’m not a failure…”
Then to my horror, I started to cry. It was a very un-Vader like thing to do. Ryan plunked me down, one shoe and one sock, to the bridge as I turned from my friends to hide my face in my cape. Someone, probably Conor, pulled my mask off, fearing I might suffocate or something as I wept like a little boy, the soft cape soaking up my tears. There were no sounds other than the songs of birds, the babble of the creek under us, and the coughing sputters of a man knowing he was making a scene but unable to stop it.
Someone who smelled like wood gathered me into a big bear hug. Ryan. Oh gods, my shy bestie. I cried even harder. Ben was hovering at the edges, clearly unsure of what to make of me sobbing like a goober.
“Hey, Haider, buddy, you okay?” Sam asked softly.
“Let’s sit down, yeah?” Conor suggested. I didn’t want to let them see me like this. How fucking embarrassing. “I think we can find our spot under the old tree.”
“Okay,” I squeaked into my cape, which was now serving as a tissue. Man, I bet the other Sith lords would be appalled. I was pretty sure Darth Maul never had a moment while fighting three Jedi masters. “I’m… can we walk?”
“Sure, yeah, I mean totally,” Sam said as he rubbed my shoulder. “That’s what we do right? Bridge birthday walks and all that.”
“Yeah,” I sniffled pulling the cape up and over my head. “Walking is…yeah.”
We left the toys along the side of the road, and the masks, and with Ryan’s beefy arm around my shoulder, and the other three on my left side, we began a slow stroll over the bridge. The worn boards creaked under our weight. A wren in the raftersscolded us as we walked under her tiny stick and grass cup of a nest. No one said anything. I think they were waiting for me to gather myself, which I finally did about a half a mile from the bridge. We were now on Sam’s land, the forest was thick and green, the sugar maples lush and healthy as they filled acres and acres of land. Far off, real far, you could hear the bleats of someone’s goats.
I paused as we neared a fat elm tree that had stood proudly in that spot for nearly a century. It had been ravaged by elm borers and now was clinging to life. Just like my shop. I stared up into the meager leaves that had managed dark green egg-shaped shapes fluttering in the wind.
“The past week has been exceptionally shitty.” I sighed, flipped the cape back down over my back, and turned to blink soggy lashes at my three best friends and what I hoped would be a fourth bestie soon. Each one was looking at me with such worry. “I’m so sorry I wigged out on you, Conor. It’s your damn birthday and I went animalistic on you.”
He shrugged. “Meh, I’ll live. What we’re more worried about is what brought that on, and don’t sugarcoat it.”
“Ha, funny. Candy maker. Sugarcoat,” I coughed out with a feeble attempt at a smile. They all returned my flimsy smirk. “I want to sit.” And so, we sat, under the old dying elm, the four of us like we had done a thousand times over the years. Different trees yes but the vibe was the same. Comforting. Loving. Something I didn’t want to ever lose but wasn’t sure how to hold onto for much longer. Even with a new fifth the emotions were just as strong.
“Talk to us,” Sam prodded, gently, but still prodded.
I did tend to pull everything bad and worrisome inside while I gave the world the Haider that they all wanted. Bright, cheery, gay and proud, colorful, vibrant. Scared.
“It started with the pandemic,” I whispered and they leaned in a little closer. A blue jay called out from the boughs above us as I opened the floodgates. The loss of business from Covid had nearly done me in, as it had so many other small businesses. Sam’s maple farm, Ryan’s woodworking shop, hell every independent business all over the world had suffered. Many were still trying to right the ship. My boat was taking on water faster than I could bail. It was nearly impossible to compete with the big boys online. Sure, peoplesaidthey loved eclectic stores with history but they didn’t want to pay more to the mom and pop or have to wait more than a day for their order. And hey, I got it. Money was tight. Who would pay me six bucks for two milk chocolate and sea salt-covered toffees when they could buy a bag in bulk for ten dollars? Was the chocolate as rich as mine? Hell no. Was the sea salt sifted by hand to ensure it was up to Aubert standards? Absolutely not. But when push came to shove cheap wins over quality.
I ran on and on, hands flying, nose stuffy, telling them everything and then some.
“Then I called her a terrible thing and she left the shop close to tears,” I confessed, shame hunching my shoulders. Sam draped an arm around my neck then dropped a kiss to my sweaty curls.
“Haider, you should have said something. I can work out a discount on the maple syrup I—” Sam started to say.
“No!” I snapped, jerking my head up so hard his bounced off mine. “Sorry, but no. You’re not going to lose money giving me handouts. Nope, no, do not go there.” I might be the smallest of the group but I was Capucine Aubert’s grandson. Nothing intimidated me. Other than being a failure and losing the most important thing in my grandmother’s life. “And then the thing with Phillip Brauning happened.”
“What thing?” The three of the them said in unison. It warmed me in ways that Sam’s famed hot chicken wing dip could never hope to.
“I know where he’s staying,” Ryan said as he punched his calloused palm with a rough fist. “We can pay him a visit.”
“No, please, don’t go hunting him down. He’s not…I mean what happened was…” I felt so many things all at once it was hard to encapsulate the emotions. “We spent some time talking at the lake like a week ago? Maybe more? I can’t keep track of time. Everything seems to be spiraling out of control.” I took a moment to breathe. “Okay, so we have met and talked about terms for selling the shop.”
“Haider, man, no, don’t do that. Don’t sell out. We’ll do something,” Ryan said, glancing to the others who nodded vigorously. “Maybe a GoFundMe page, or a uhm…uhm….”
I forced a smile. “No, hey, no, it’s not a total bust. He’s offered me a lot of money.”
Ryan and Sam exchanged looks. They knew what a small business was worth. Sam spoke up. “What is a lot of money? Because if it’s under a hundred thousand…”
“It’s more than that. Likewaymore. If we sell them the customer list and all of our recipes it would jack the value up and net us a million.”
All four whistled softly.
“How does Mamie feel about this?” Conor asked, the sun making his gold hair shine.