Restart - An Original Novella

Chapter VII {A Rush Of Blood To The Head} Part 3

Thursday, May 19th

Today is Heidi's baby shower. Darlene and I go, accompanied by Steve. Selfless as he is, he missed work to go, just for me. Darlene and Steve don't even know her, yet they let me go just because I wanted to. I bring the gift of the keyboard that I wrapped in blue paper, after finding out the baby was going to be a boy. The Lynches bring home goods and money.

There are so many people there, and I panic just a little when I can't find Heidi and Rena. I am so relieved when I finally do, and they are so happy to see me and the gifts, which they are so thankful for. There is a huge table-full of presents for Heidi and the child, and I am so glad for her. She was unbelievably nice and caring to me in my time of distress.

Apparently every child in the Schultz family tree were taught to play piano, and there is a piano-playing contest. Even the four-year-olds can play more than simple tunes, and I am super impressed. I can tell Darlene and Steve are too by their wide eyes and smiles.

Then Rena pushes me over to the piano. I am so embarrassed because I don't know what to play, and whatever I decide, I know it won't be as good as the little ones, and no one recognizes us. But I conjure an improv song and made up words, and somehow everything falls together. I really am someone else besides the grief-racked, ruined soul I've become when someone gives me an instrument to play.

But when I play the piano, I think of Maria. I think of her extraordinary talent. I think of her smile as she played. I think of how much she would have loved playing at this place.

It pushes me. I play better than I have ever tried to before. It honors her spirit. It means the world to me to be able to do this for her.

This little outing with the Lynches was something I really needed, somewhere to be with people familiar to me that actually love me as much as they do.

****

Saturday, May 21st

Darlene and I are going to retry an attempt at shopping. We prepare a list and get ourselves centered, positive we won't let ourselves get distracted this time.

We are already at the car parked in the front driveway when I remember I've forgotten my phone in the house. I tell Darlene that I've gone back to get it and she hands me the keys. As I approach the house, I glimpse something small and yellow on the dark olive green door. When I look closer, I see it's a sticky note.

My heart stops.

Written in all caps, clear as day, are three words: LOOK FOR IT.

But that's not what sends chills racing through me.

It's the handwriting.

LOOK FOR IT

How, and why, would Michael put a sticky note saying this on the door of the house I'm living in? I thought we were way past contact with each other.

Something screams Warning! inside me, and I try not to panic. I hate confusion. Everything must be put in a neat little box when associated with me. By me. This message is terrifying for some reason. Look for what? Why? There are so many questions.

"Stephanie, is everything alright? Are you having trouble getting that darned door open?" Darlene calls.

I reach out and rip the sticky note off the door, stuffing it in my pocket. "No, I'm fine!" But as I try to actually open the door, I find I do have trouble. "Umm, actually..."

She comes over and in an impressive feat of strength yanks the door with all her might. It swings open. "There we go," she says, clapping her hands to get rid of dust. "Just need to put a bit of effort in it."

I barely hear what she is saying. My head swims with bafflement.

I had better find out the meaning of the note, and fast.

****

Monday, May 23rd

Today Darlene calls me into her office. It is small, cluttered in a controlled sort of way, with lots of papers in neat piles, a bookshelf full of books, and work drawers bursting with brochures. Maps and National Geographic posters cover every wall. The only light in the room is provided by lamps, no windows. There is even a mini refrigerator tucked away in a corner.

She beckons me to her large, messy desk and shows me a map of North America dotted with red thumbtacks. There are absolutely none west of the Mississippi River, but the East Coast is full of them, as well as Texas and Mexico. The border between Canada and the U.S. is lined with them.

"Each thumbtack represents a household of distant family members of yours. We are trying to look for a place that will take you. Our best choice would be here." She points to one in the northeast corner of Illinois. "Lilished is a village in the south suburbs of Chicago. Your family in Texas doesn't have an income sustainable for another member, and we definitely would not want you going out of the country. Would you be okay with living in Illinois? It's quite far away, but it's the closest you can be to California."

She looks sad when she says this, and weathered, as if she spent quite a while gathering data to compile for this map. I don't want to cause trouble for her. "That sounds great," I say.

I am shocked, though. It's really happening. I'm leaving the area I've lived in all my life. Not only this county, not only this state, but I'm not even living in the same half of the United States. I feel faint at this thought.

"Really?" A weak smile appears on her face. I nod. "You need to return to your old house to pack, take some things with you to Lilished."

Oh, no. I don't think I can handle returning to the home I haven't been in for so long, the place I used to live with the family I used to have. My body stiffens. "I'll do it," I say, my voice tight.

Darlene notices my discomfort, of course. "If you make a list, Steve will be more than willing to get it instead for you."

I think it's funny how she speaks for Steve. She must have a lot of influence over him.

I shake my head. "I have to get over this fear. It won't ever do me any good."

She sighs. "Whatever you say." A phone rings somewhere in the room. Darlene turns towards the sound and drifts towards the receiver, peering at it. "It's Mrs. Bloom," she tells me, picking it up. "Hello?" *long pause* "Yes." *long pause* She puts a hand over the bottom of the phone. "Stephanie, is it okay if you left for a second?"

I nod, but stop for just a little before getting out. I feel better around Darlene.

Trudging out, I curl up on the couch, hugging the newest of her cloth masterpieces, smelling chocolate chip cookies in the fabric. Smells calm me down a lot of the times when I am worked up.

Suddenly I hear a noise — something between a gasp and a cry. I immediately rush over to the door. There's a click as she puts the phone back in the receiver.

"Darlene, are you okay?" There's no answer. "Darlene?"

"Please don't come in," she calls. Her voice is wobbly.

So of course I ignore her, bursting in the room.

Darlene has her face in her hands. She is hunched over, her shoulders shaking with sobs, tears leaking through her white-knuckled fingers. I race to her side.

"What happened?"

"Michael," she says, choking on the name. "He's dead."