An apple has a sweet taste. But the apples from the Sinclair’s orchard always delivered tart and bitter apples. To General Fitzroy this was the basis of life. All around him, sweetly flavored kindness could be found; strangers offering those down on their luck money, gentlemanly characters holding the door outside during a storm, or even a small child simply clinging to a parent’s leg or neck. Life was sweet, gentle and loving. But Fitzroy’s lifetime has been filled with the signature taste of a Sinclair apple. A virulent taste.
It has been nearly seven years since the true bitter taste has been on his tongue. Returning to the orchard proved difficult but not impossible. Navigating his way around the unfamiliar manor to the apple trees was the harder part. It wasn’t impossible however. Fitzroy got himself to the tree that was always a little out of the row… it had the tastiest apples.
“Emile why is this tree not in line with the others?” Roy loudly commented as they readied the step ladder.
“Monsieur, how am I supposed to know? I’m sure it was just an accident.” Roy pouted his lip and handed Emile the burlap sack.
“Nah, I think it’s trying to cover something. Like buried treasure! No, maybe it’s a body! Come on Emile go get a shovel!”
“I don’t think that is a very good idea…”
Fitzroy smiled at the silly memory as he reached out to the tree to find an apple. He barely needed the step ladder. He blindly reached out. His fingers bumped up against one and he twisted it off the vine. It landed with a quiet plop in the bag. He readjusted himself on the ladder so he was now seated on the top. He used to always try and keep his tight riding pants clean, but now he didn’t mind if the dark gray-blue military uniform became dusty, it was already stained with a much darker color.
Tracy was the drunkest he had ever been. The big burly guy was also the most emotional drunk Roy had ever seen, not that he had seen a tremendous amount of drunk people. Tracy was crying into Emile’s shoulder, aggressively hanging onto it.
“…and then after they saw how my pants were unzipped they just kept laughing and I had never been so embarrassed in my life!” The entire group just traded sideward glances and tried not to laugh in attempt of saving their dear friend’s feelings. Roy was just much more interested in the increasingly wet garment of Emile’s. Tracy had to be nearly double, if not triple, Emile’s size and was putting all his weight down on the boy. Roy looked at Emile with his good eye and snickered at the childish scene displayed. Emile only turned red probably of both embarrassment and slight frustration. Roy had to admit it, Emile was pretty cute.
Even after all the years, Fitzroy still felt his face flush at the loving memory of his partner. Emile. That was name he hadn’t heard in a while now. “Emile…” He said in his now tired voice. Saying it aloud meant something. A prayer? A wish? Perhaps instead it meant closure. Finally letting go.
The burlap sack was now filled a quarter full of apples Fitzroy was unaware if were ripe or not… but this was apple season after all. He knew it all too well. The lawn mowers always were out and he was granted permission to go to the stables extra early with Emile.
“Emile wake up! Wake up! It’s the first day of the ripe season!” Emile turned over, not being awake himself as it was barely even four in the morning. His tired eyes glared up at Roy. Roy, however, only smiled and tugged on Emile’s arm to try to get him up.
“Roy you treat this like its Christmas!”
“Non non, it’s even better.”
Roy was barely even dressed, he only changed into riding pants and left his nightshirt on. Also added was a pair of riding boots, much easier to ride with than his slippery dress shoes. The sun had just began to peek around the hill once they got to the stables. Roy didn’t hesitate, he never did, to saddle his horse and run away to the secluded corner hill. He always felt obliged to tell Emile that he’d be back in a few hours… but Emile knew all too well.
Roy rode around the hill on his horse Chocolat. On that particular day the sun was shining and not even a single cloud could be found floating in the deep upper blue. Roy felt his freedom only but centimeters away, he could nearly taste it. Towards the end of his ride he plopped down in the grass and stared up at the emotionless blue. “Freedom huh? I wonder what it’s really like.”
“Bitter.” Fitzroy again smiled at the memory. This place, this orchard, carried so many of them. The entire time spent there, he had longed for freedom. Now that he had it, he realized it wasn’t what he wanted. It’s his very own life emitting off the bitter Sinclair taste, not the orchard. He did not need this so-called freedom, he only needed some caramel. Something sweet to balance the flavor.
At least back then he did. He may still be younger than thirty, but Fitzroy was tired. He fought his battle, from befriending Emile to losing that friendship and joining the war… he was just done. Of course joining the great battle was not him running away, it was him, for the first time in his life, trying to fight that tart taste. Avenge the manor and his father, avenge the troops and fight for Emile.
It was when the bag was half way full that Fitzroy heard a shuffle in the grass. A placid smile arose on his face and he adjusted his dark shades.
The not very hefty Roy Sinclair was just about twenty-one years old when he signed up for battle. Because of the situation, he was given much training, just a uniform and a pat on the back. For the first half of his first year, he didn’t do much. He only received pitiful gazes from those who were older. It was obvious his height and blind eye made him look not only weak, but plain ignorant for joining the military. This was when he started the ‘Egg Training’. Raw eggs were for breakfast every morning at five. It was nasty, incomparable to the fine dishes served at the orchard.
The next year Roy was promoted for saving a man with a bullet wound. Later he was promoted again simply for showing strong results.
Roy was promoted a final time after he saved another man from a bomb explosion. The man lost an arm and his hearing, but his life was saved in the end.
“BEITEL STAY WITH ME ALRIGHT?” Roy was nearly panting instead of yelling as he dragged the man by the arms towards safety. An explosion went off only about ten yards away, causing some burning to occur, mostly to Roy.
“DAMN IT BEITTY COME ON!” He yelled, still dragging him through the mud. A final bomb erupted, this one only a meter away. Roy fell over and blacked out for a couple minutes. When he came back to his senses he patted Beitel on the arm
“What’s with the blindfold? I’m not a horse.” Roy proclaimed, reminding himself of his past. A bloody cough came from his partner.
“Sir, you’re eyes are wide open.”
“I’ve been sitting here for about an hour now. I wondered when you’d show.” General Fitzroy tossed the bag down below. He turned back to continue picking apples. He embarrassingly missed nearly all of his reaches, eventually finding a few apples. His blind-less tosses obviously weren’t very accurate as many apples tumbled to the ground. Not a single word was exchanged until the bag was filled with apples. Fitzroy climbed down from the ladder and brushed off his uniform.
“Don’t you pull any of that Monsieur stuff now alright? If anything you are to address me as General.” Fitzroy winked, forgetting it was nearly impossible for one to see it.
He took a step towards him and placed his hand on his head.
“Ah. Look who’s taller now!” He said jokingly. It was obvious Fitzroy grew about seven inches and his voice roughened. He bent down to about where he assumed his ear was. “Wanna know my secret?” He said with a small smile, “Raw eggs. The damn things are near disgusting so I don’t recommend it.”
A minute, maybe two went by in silence. He listened to the familiar noise of the leaves rustling and bugs buzzing. He couldn’t see his surroundings, but this was home. He could see it anyways.
Fitzroy eventually began to walk back up to his car. When he heard soft footsteps behind him he said, “Let’s go and make some apple pie.” He said. He gave a small chuckle lifting his head back. He walked straight into a hanging metal sign. He clutched his swelling forehead and began to laugh.
“Old habits die hard huh Emile?”
