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That afternoon, he sat beneath an apple tree. Kids chased each other across the orchard and hugged piles of multi-coloured leaves. Memories of dirty runs through secret paths came to mind. His brother, the mischievous one he'd always been, insisted on exploring whenever their parents took them apple-picking for the month. The two of them would spend hours climbing trees and diving into the biggest mounds they could find.
Growing up, their fall traditions eventually faded. Their father was too busy with work to even spare them a glance and their mother's sickness barely let her out of bed. Apple-picking trips became non-existent and soon he forgot about any trip at all. There just wasn't enough time. Whereas his brother's social circle expanded to give him some sense of belonging, he rather excluded himself from such gatherings. Crowds weren't his style and he'd much rather stay in than get rowdy with a group of immature teenagers.
His relationship with Baz deteriorated to a point they stopped speaking altogether. Perhaps what hurt the most was that neither of them could be blamed. His dream of medicine had been crushed by their father's cruel worlds and derisive comments. Baz, however, quite liked to prove the old codger wrong. Both were accepted into respectable universities with scholarships but followed different paths. He taught third graders for two years after college but he was miserable, so he went back.
When he graduated Med school, Baz took him to their old orchard. It was run-down, with weathered trees and uncared for grass as high as their knees.
And for the first time in years, he had genuinely smiled.
Five years later and there he was once more, soaking up the warmth of a dying sun under a swirl of browns and reds.
Darkness enveloped his vision as two delicate hands covered his eyes, smelling faintly of vanilla hand cream and damp earth. Muffled giggles gave her away. Underneath her touch, the corner of his eyes wrinkled. Zaid gently grabbed her wrists and pulled her forward, producing a surprised yelp that dissolved into open laughter. Ines laid sprawled across his lap, face lit up in a playful smile.
He drank her in, still not quite believing his luck. Truly, the woman was a sight to behold: beneath a pale straw hat, her curls cascaded over the shoulders of a flowery sundress. He'd bought it for her in Miami, when she'd fallen in love with the piece from the other side of the street. Seeing her twirl to see the colours dance in the wind had been priceless. Nowadays, the fabric stretched over a small bump.
“Apple pie or apple-cider doughnuts for dessert?”
He shook his head. “Pie.”
“Thought so!” Ines beamed. “Is your brother joining us?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I'll make the crumble.”
“Do you think he was serious about the roller buggy?”
“Hmm, I don't doubt it. I can set it on fire, if you're too polite to say no,” Zaid suggested.
His wife shot him a disapproving glare.
“Got it. No arson,” he dead-panned.