Challenge #14: Old Friends Die Hard
Frank wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but he was nervous nonetheless. Surely, the murder weapon would be gone. But would there be blood? Would there be evidence of a scuffle? Would there be a chalk outline on the floor where Tommy had fallen?
Despite his worry of being caught, back at the barn he stepped under the yellow tape and let himself in, taking a moment to gaze at the old tractor he’d sat on so long ago. The barn was strikingly similar to how it had been way back when. The tractor was parked in the same corner. The chicken feed kept neatly on the same shelf.
He wasn’t sure why he’d come. When he read in the local newspaper that Tommy Miller had been murdered-he hadn’t even known he’d moved back to his folks’ old place-he just felt compelled to come back.
Growing up, they’d been inseparable. As they neared the end of high school, though, it became apparent that Tommy was going to move onto bigger and better things and, well, Frank would just barely graduate and his uncle was going to get him a job at his gas station.
Frank had often wondered what happened to Tommy after they lost touch shortly after Tommy moved away to college. Sometimes he thought of him angrily, wondering how Tommy could just move on like that without him. Other times, he remembered their time fondly, understanding that Tommy, a kid like that, couldn’t stay in a podunk town like this. Most often, though, when he remembered Tommy, it was with jealousy. He had every opportunity that Tommy had had, but he squandered them all away.
It appeared, though, as if Tommy’s life wasn’t what he’d always thought it was. He’d imagined him with his fancy football scholarship and 3.0 GPA impressing all the city girls, a different one every night. As Frank grew older and settled down with his wife, he imagined Tommy doing the same, but in a much larger, more expensively decorated house with a supermodel wife and a cushy office in the city like one sees on TV. But the newspaper article about Tommy’s murder didn’t mention an address other than this one, and no wife or kids.
Maybe that was why he’d come, to feel connected to the part of Tommy’s life he knew to be real because he had been there, climbing over the tractor with him. With Tommy gone, this was the closest Frank could get to the friendship he still yearned for twenty years later.
Despite his worry of being caught, back at the barn he stepped under the yellow tape and let himself in, taking a moment to gaze at the old tractor he’d sat on so long ago. The barn was strikingly similar to how it had been way back when. The tractor was parked in the same corner. The chicken feed kept neatly on the same shelf.
He wasn’t sure why he’d come. When he read in the local newspaper that Tommy Miller had been murdered-he hadn’t even known he’d moved back to his folks’ old place-he just felt compelled to come back.
Growing up, they’d been inseparable. As they neared the end of high school, though, it became apparent that Tommy was going to move onto bigger and better things and, well, Frank would just barely graduate and his uncle was going to get him a job at his gas station.
Frank had often wondered what happened to Tommy after they lost touch shortly after Tommy moved away to college. Sometimes he thought of him angrily, wondering how Tommy could just move on like that without him. Other times, he remembered their time fondly, understanding that Tommy, a kid like that, couldn’t stay in a podunk town like this. Most often, though, when he remembered Tommy, it was with jealousy. He had every opportunity that Tommy had had, but he squandered them all away.
It appeared, though, as if Tommy’s life wasn’t what he’d always thought it was. He’d imagined him with his fancy football scholarship and 3.0 GPA impressing all the city girls, a different one every night. As Frank grew older and settled down with his wife, he imagined Tommy doing the same, but in a much larger, more expensively decorated house with a supermodel wife and a cushy office in the city like one sees on TV. But the newspaper article about Tommy’s murder didn’t mention an address other than this one, and no wife or kids.
Maybe that was why he’d come, to feel connected to the part of Tommy’s life he knew to be real because he had been there, climbing over the tractor with him. With Tommy gone, this was the closest Frank could get to the friendship he still yearned for twenty years later.