Apples, Sunsets, And Dead People (Stand alone)

Author's note: I did post this story in the writing section of the District Square, but I feel since it is pertinent to a character of mine, it is fitting I post it here as well.

Garth Earnhardt

I took another bite out of the bright red apple in my hand, and contentedly though of days gone by.

The sun was low to on the horizon now, and the sky had turned a pleasing shade of orange. The workday was unwinding now, and I had finished my work, so no one, not the shift foreman or even the peacekeepers, would really object to me just sitting in this tree with my back to it's trunk and staring at the sky until the workday was finished and we were allowed to go home. I bit into the apple yet again, and the sweet juice filled my mouth with instant satisfaction. My gaze was drawn to the golden band I wore on my right ring finger. And then the memories flooded back.

Dad was drunk, but not drunk enough to be violent or even passed out, but enough to still be slurring his words and speaking nonsense. He mumbled something incoherent as his face lay lazily on the kitchen counter, our house dark and completely empty save for the two of us. I was five, but I was still smart enough to avoid dad when he was like this, which was pretty much always. In fact, I think I had just really learned to stay away from him all together, but today, for whatever reason, I simply sat in the doorway and looked up at the drunkard who, on occasion, came to sleep in my house, with curiosity. Then his head slowly picked itself up and began to hover over the kitchen counter, his dull blues eyes, frighteningly familiar and similar to mine, found themselves over to me.

My heart stopped beating for a moment as our eyes made contact, the same, and yet worlds apart. He looked at me, screwing up his eyes, scrutinizing my features, and he wore a face of bitterness and distaste. He endeavored to speak.

"You look just like... (hiccup)... your..." the last word was so low I barely caught it.

"...mother." he said, bringing his gaze back down to the counter and away from me.

"Too much like your mother." he said finally before passing out yet again.

The next morning, when he was somewhat sober, and the hangover was beginning to hit him, I expected him to get drunk again, and he did, but more slowly then usual. He called my name out as he poured liquor into his dark coffee.

"Garth..." he moaned while placing his finger to his temple.

I was shocked, this must have been the fifth time in my life he had actually spoken my name.

"Garth..." he called louder now, more urgently.

Not much scares me, not even when I was a kid, but [that man] did. I slowly entered the kitchen, my heart sinking into my stomach, expecting a whooping he would give me while semi-sober, which no doubt would be worse than one he gave me when drunk due to him having more control over his faculties. But surprisingly, this is not what occurred, instead he ran his hand through his short, curly red hair and looked at me with annoyance. The look he gave me was frightening, as I was still expecting a fresh smack at any moment.

"Come here." he commanded in an level tone.

My feet slowly trudged around the counter until I was standing next to him and a little behind him, this was as close I dared venture. He looked at me with the same look of vague distaste he had worn since I was born.

"You do look like her, you know." he said in an almost fatherly tone.

"Your mother." he completed.

I looked at this man, my father. His short, curly red hair was a lot like mine, but my hair was dirty blonde, and much longer. His face was hard and plain, and his skin was just as pale as mine, albeit with many more freckles. I had seen pictures of my mother, and to be honest, I didn't look that much like her. As a matter of fact, I didn't look too much like either of them. Sure, there were similarities here and there, but there was no discernible family resemblance unless you were to look at both my parents and then me at the same time. I finally decided that he had not meant I looked like my mother at all, he meant I looked "too much" like my mother.

"Here." he dug into his breast pocket and pulled out a small trifle.

"It was your mother's." he told me, looking away from me and towards the wall opposite him.

I took it furtively out of his two clasped fingers. How long had he been carrying this around? I hadn't ever seen him take it out before, and I had never seen it lying around the house. Hell, I didn't even know he had kept it. Had he kept it on his person all these years?

I scrutinized the pretty little golden ring. I could almost smell a hint of my mother still on it, even if I had never known her. "This was her's" I thought. The woman I had never met's, the woman I would never know's. And yet here was a part of her, the part my father had given her, sitting in my hands, shimmering the golden sunlight which now filled our home back at me, making everything seem so much brighter. I smiled for the first time in a long time.

"Now go, daddy's got to get busy." he told me as he put the coffee cup to his lips and drank slowly.

I ran out of the room, not wanting to be near that man any longer than was absolutely necessary. I ran out into the forest which surrounded our house and hid behind a tree, looking at the ring my father had given me with renewed interest.

"There you are." a familiar voice in front of me called.

I looked up and met my uncle Jon's smile with one of my own. His brilliant white teeth shimmered almost as much as the ring, which looked as if my father had polished it everyday of his life until now. I knew my dad and uncle Jon were brothers, but Jon looked very little like him, so sometimes it seemed hard to tell. He was older than my father, taller and more strongly built, and with far more complex a face, less harsh and unyielding. It sloped and curved and never seemed to end in any one particular place. His hair was long and curly and jet black, and his skin was a shade darker than mine or my father's.

His eyes fell down to the object in my hands.

"What cha' got there?" he asked with his eyebrows pressed together.

"A ring. It was mom's." I replied excitedly.

Uncle Jon face shifted and his smile became sullen.

"Your mother was a very beautiful woman." he said at last before sighing.

"Your dad really loved her." he mused, walking towards me.

"Your dad really loves you too." he smiled again.

"Whether he knows it or not."

He held out his hand to me.

"Come on. Let's go get some ice cream."

"Ice cream?" I thought. Since when could we afford ice cream? The truth was that we couldn't, but uncle Jon took me anyway.

Suddenly I was back in the tree, sitting high above all the other workers, staring out into the orange sunset, which had only grown deeper in my preoccupation. A sound invoked a startled moment from me, and I looked down the tree to see a familiar face a mere inches away from mine. I must have been so busy dwelling on the past I hadn't noticed.

"Hard at work, Garth?" Nora asked me sardonically, resting her head on the limb I was sitting on, her short, wavy, bright blonde hair nearly obscuring her bright brown eyes. Damn it, she always was so quiet when she climbed. She used it to startle me often.

"Work's done. No point in staying down there with the other drones." I told her.

She climbed up onto the my tree limb and sat next to me. I pulled out a knife, cut off a piece of the apple, and offered it to her.

"And so you'd thought you'd just slip away without anyone noticing?" she asked, deadpan and looking towards the horizon, eating her small piece of apple.

"Of course you would notice. Your practically my shadow." I told her, a brief chuckle manifesting in my voice.

"Well, someone needs to make sure you don't do something stupid." she replied.

We were a quiet for a little while, but after we were finished splitting up the apple and I had put my knife away, she turned to face me.

"So, your coming over for diner with my family, right?" she practically spoke it as if it were a statement.

"I'll bring the bread. And not that rough tessera crap either." I replied. Her family had me over often, the least I could do was contribute to some of the meal.

"How many tesserae have you had to take out this year anyway?"

More than I cared to admit.

"Enough to keep me going." I told her. She looked as if that answer wasn't satisfactory, but I think the look on my face was enough to convince her not to press the subject further. She looked back towards the horizon. Nightfall was upon us now. That's when we heard the tune.

A mockingjay repeated the little four note tune that signified the end of the workday in the woods. Then another, and another, until the forest was flushed with music. It was breathtaking really, even if I did hear it at the start and the end of everyday. Nora looked back at me, turned herself around, and began to descend the tall pine we were sitting in.

"Diner. My house. An hour. Don't be late." she told me simply and seriously.

I smiled at her and nodded my head, amused.

"Sweetheart," I said to annoy her.

"when have I done anything other than what you've asked of me?" I asked her as I threw the apple core over the side and down into the forest below.

Nora looked at me with disgust and then began to move further down the tree trunk. I looked up at the orange sky and smiled.

Nora wasn't my girlfriend, although a lot of people assumed that she was since we spent so much time together. No, we met when we were both twelve, and finally beginning to work in the forests. It was after the accident, uncle Jon wasn't able to work, and I had to take the role of household earner, in addition to the tesserae I could fortunately take out now. We just sort of began talking while working one day to pass the time, and while it was awkward at first since I wasn't exactly used to that kind of thing, you know, [people], we became inseparable, as she was practically the only person other than uncle Jon I really knew. Since uncle Jon had passed away, her and her family had sort of taken it upon themselves to help me out where they could, which is why she was always so damn insistent I go over to her house for diner.

I looked at the golden ring on my finger one more time and my smile faded. I closed my eyes and mused that maybe somewhere, right now, the mother I never knew was watching over me, and that maybe even my dad and uncle Jon were there with her doing it also. But then I opened my eyes again, and found myself swiftly shimmying down the towards the forest floor and the rapidly retreating workers, eager to eat an actual meal with the few people I still actually had.