Ace of No Trades

Chapter Twenty Eight

We were four years old when we had met for the first time. 

I wasn't sure why all of a sudden the memories were returning to me, as catatonic as the pelting catastrophe outside. My memories were loud, overwhelming. My chest empty. 

I remembered the first time we had met, back in kindergarten when I had curiously followed the boisterous kid in class. I had found him near the sandpit, shovelling sand furiously. On asking what he was doing, he had informed that (after an oath of secrecy) that he was digging a tunnel that will lead us outside school. The idea was thrilling to me, so I joined in as well. 

Even though we were never successful in our great heist, I found something strange in this boy who talked too loud, ran too fast and was always looking for ways to make trouble. In many ways, the exact opposite of myself. Ace always did things I only wished I could. 

I took a shuddering breath, squinting my eyes as I struggled to maintain vision in the raindrops angrily falling on the windscreen. I kept shivering in my wet clothes, sticking uncomfortably to me. But I had no time to think. Ace was out somewhere. I simply needed to find him. 

It was easier to drive in a straight line once I was out in the streets, although each time that I came around a turn, my heart which seemed to be unfeeling, would get a spark of life and hammer nervously. I remembered how Ace had taught me to drive and the anguish pierced my chest with numbing ferocity. 

Where could he be? Where would he be and not tell anyone? Where would he be when he was feeling so low?

There were a couple of places I could think, both of which were extremely dangerous during this time. The promenade or the cliff. Then, of course, there was the possibility that he didn't want me to find him. 

But I had promised him I always would. 

I bit my lower lip to keep from bawling like a baby. I had to remain steady. When one of us clearly wasn't. 

I decided to check the promenade first, although it would be extremely difficult to spot him under the deluge. I hoped I would be able to spot his car if he had parked it at all and hadn't just gone on a vagabond ride.

I kept my eyes peeled for any shadow of his familiar car out on the roads. I could hear the thunder roaring in the skies above as if heaven itself was intent on crashing onto the wretched earth tonight. I was glad at least the roads were absolutely deserted from what I could tell so far. I gazed at the empty road outside as I reached the promenade, the bone-chilling cold turning my blood into icy streams. If I was so cold inside the car, I could only imagine how cold he would be if he decided to step out of his. 

My heart sank lower and lower as I was finally forced to admit that the promenade was empty. I didn't find any sign of his car all along the one-kilometre stretch of the road. The rain went on without dampening in its ferocity.