Come...sit a spell...I want to tell you a story

OK, dear readers...for better or for worst, here is a sample of my long told of hobby - fictional writing! It is the first thing I've written in ages, so please be kind. I know that it sort of starts and stops without telling all its secrets...but really, I like to think that is part of its charm. I'm hoping that by reading this short 'episode' that it would intrigue you to want to read more. Feel free to leave me a comment...perhaps it will encourage me to share more.

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“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” stammers Simon.
Martin barely pauses on the sidewalk as he glances darkly at his friend. “Did you ever stop to think that might not be such a bad thing?”
Simon tries to absorb the situation and finds that his feet have suddenly ceased to function. He is momentarily rooted to the spot in dumbfounded astonishment. He watches Martin continue to stride forward, oblivious to the fact that Simon was no longer following beside him. It seems to suit him as Martin continues down the block without so much as glance toward where his friend ought to be.
A dozen responses race through Simon’s mind before he finds his voice. Simon decides to go with the most obvious one. “Of course that would be a bad thing!”
Martin finally slows and turns to look back over his shoulder. Under the light of the street lamp, Martin’s face looks much older. The shadows fall upon him in such a way that Simon might have hesitated to approach him if he were a mere stranger. In fact, he might have even crossed the street just to avoid him.
“Why?” Even before the word was out of his mouth, Martin already regretted using it.
He quickly holds his hand up to interrupt the torrent of reasons that he was sure Simon was about to unleash upon him. “What I mean is – well, the less you know might be better in some circumstances.”
“Since when do we have circumstances in which the other person wouldn’t know about it?”
Unlike himself, Simon was a master at keeping his emotions in check, but Martin could still detect the hurt in his friend’s eyes. Unfortunately, this time couldn’t be helped.
“Simon,” Martin begins with a weary sigh. “What did you think was going to happen after you and Raven jetted off to France to live happily ever after? Did you think that life back here would just magically remain unaltered? Did you think that time would stop and the people you left behind would just stay the same?”
“Of course not,” Simon says as he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes briefly. The lateness of the hour falls upon him full force at that moment. “What I did expect, however, was to be able to look my best friend in the eye and know I could trust him.”
“And you don’t?”
“ I…I want too.”
“So what’s stopping you?”

Simon leaves the question unanswered; opting to look into Martin’s unwavering stare instead. Sometimes silence is an answer. Martin flinches first. He breaks the standoff as he reaches into his coat pocket for a cigarette. The red glow of the freshly lit cigarette stands out against the stark black night. Martin takes a slow, purposeful drag to settle his nerves before returning his attention to Simon. He isn’t prepared for the look of shear surprise on his friend’s face.
“Since when do you smoke,” Simon asks in a disapproving tone.
“Could we stick to discussing just one of my bad traits at a time,” Martin snaps back in a tone nastier than he intended.
Simon continues to stare at him as if he were a pod person. “You don’t smoke.”
Martin begins to lose his temper. “Seriously?! This is what you want to bitch me out about,” Martin shouts louder than necessary as he waves the cigarette in his friend’s face. “And here I thought you just wanted to call me an untrustworthy liar.”
Simon doesn’t take the bait. He isn’t going to get into a shouting match with Martin. “You are not acting like the Martin Fichaud that I know,” he states in a simple, calm manner.
“That’s probably because that Martin Fichaud only exists in your head,” Martin spat back. “Simon, you never were very good at seeing a person for who they really are. You just see people as you think they ought to be. Well, some of us mere mortals can’t live up to your expectations.”
“Bullshit! Hide behind whatever excuse you want, but you can’t tell me that I don’t know you. I may very well be the only one who really does.”
Martin couldn’t help but laugh. He must have really hit a nerve to make Simon Gentle actually swear. “I think you have that backwards my friend,” he says as he crushes the cigarette beneath his heel.
“Perhaps,” Simon replies. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m wrong. It doesn’t change the fact that I feel like I’m talking to a complete stranger.”
Martin shakes his head. “I can’t help how you feel.”
“Of course you can,” Simon says exasperated. “You can tell me what is going on.”
And there you have it…the conversation had come full circle. “That isn’t something that I can do. You have a wife and a daughter now. You have a whole new life that you need to concentrate on. For better or for worst, my life went on without you here. I have new responsibilities that I have to consider now. Why can’t I get you to understand that I’m trying to be your friend by not involving you?”
“Because I can help you,” Simon pleads. “Just because I don’t live a cab ride away anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still have influence here.”
“But that’s exactly what I don’t want,” Martin fumes. “I don’t want your fingerprints anywhere near this. I need to know that you and Raven are safe a thousand miles away from this shit hole. I need to know that somewhere, someone is living happily ever after.”
“You are a part of our family, Martin. If it was not for you, we would still be here and I don’t even want to think about what would have happened to Faith had we stayed. So how can you ask me to just walk away and forget you?”
“I don’t know, but that’s exactly what you should do.”
“And that is something that I cannot do. I cannot leave you here, alone. This city has too many evils for one man to carry on his shoulders.”
“You don’t give me enough credit, Simon.”
“And you’ve been known to give yourself too much credit. You cannot hope to win whatever fight you are undertaking alone.”
“Wow! Did you ever think about becoming a motivational speaker? Really…this is doing wonders for my morale,” Martin says with a sarcastic grin which Simon knew well.
“I’m just trying to act as the voice of reason. You know I’m right,” Simon concludes soberly.
Martin places his hand softly on his friend’s shoulder. “Always looking out for me, eh?”
“If not me, then who," Simon replies softly.
“It’s not like I don’t appreciate it,” Martin replies with sincerity. “But I still have to tell you to forget about New York and leave things here to me. I can handle it.”
“And when you get caught in over your head?” Simon asks.
“Why would you assume that would even be an issue?”
“Because we are talking about you,” Simon concludes without a hint of humor in his voice.
“I’m not completely alone here, you know,” Martin replies. “I’ve got…people.”
Simon folds his arms stubbornly. “Everyone we both know you can trust is either dead or hundreds of miles away from the city.”
“So you don’t know these people…it doesn’t mean I don’t trust them.” Martin could see the wheels in his friend’s head spinning – trying to calculate who he might be referring too. It was easy to deduce from the sour look of concentration on Simon’s face that nothing logical was surfacing. “Besides, I always can count on Ben to cover my back without a question,” he adds hoping to ease Simon’s worries.
A look of faint displeasure filters over Simon’s face at Ben’s name, but he says nothing.
“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”
Martin glances at his watch: 4:20 A.M. “Not tonight.”
Simon faces toward the direction of the hotel once again. He is tired and he is losing this conversation. “This isn’t the last of this discussion, you know?”
Martin looks up into the early morning sky and smiles tiredly. “Of course it isn’t.”
Simon reaches over and lifts the package of Winston’s out of Martin’s coat. “Now about these things…”