LOST

“Becca!” Stew yelled from the top of the stairs in a bathrobe, not knowing if his sister was upstairs or downstairs.

“I’m right here… sheesh,” she exclaimed as she came out of her room.

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“What should I wear?”

“Have you never been on a date? Come on, Big Brother,” she said cynically.

“I’m serious.”

“Stew, you’ve already made your first impression and for some reason she still likes you. Just be yourself.”

“Hmm… I never... so you… really?”

Becca rolled her eyes and ignored his inability to finish a thought as she went into his room and opened his closet, “Where are you taking her anyway?”

“Well, I can’t drive yet, so, technically, she’ll be taking me,” Stew said, following her. “I had planned on just dinner and a movie, but…”

“Boo-o-o-ring,” she interrupted, flipping through what little clothes he had there.

“I know. If you had let me finish… I’m taking her to The Perch after dinner instead of a movie.”

“Is that a club?” she asked, holding a dark blue polo shirt up to him and shaking her head.

“It’s a comedy club… sort of… with a coffeehouse kind of vibe.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s… somewhat cool.”

“It’s in Charlotte.”

“Well, I figured that. Salisbury could never be cool enough for a place like that,” she said, still rummaging.

“Stew,” Mrs. Kasey called from downstairs. “I think Alex is here.”

“I’ll be down in a couple of minutes,” Stew said anxiously.

“Here,” Becca said, handing him a grey, striped dress shirt and black khaki pants. “A little stuffy, but they’ll do. You have decent shoes, right?”

“Yeah. The shoes I bought when I bought those pants. ”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” she said as politely as she could muster, lightly patting him on the shoulder before leaving him to get dressed.

Downstairs, Mrs. Kasey jumped on the opportunity to pry. “So, where are you two headed tonight?” she asked Alex.

“Stew mentioned dinner and a movie, but I’m not…”

“Nope,” Stew exclaimed, gliding into the kitchen, nosey Becca close behind. “I decided that was too boring for a first date.”

“Okay. So, where are we going?” Alex asked.

“Dinner. Your choice. And then, The Perch.”

“Ooh, I’ve been wanting to go there. I could never find anyone who wanted to go.”

“What’s The Perch?” Mrs. Kasey inquired.

“Comedy club in Charlotte,” Stew answered.

Mrs. Kasey wanted to say something but for some reason she remained silent. She cringed at the mere mention of her son stepping one foot inside the city where he was attacked, and at night, no less, but she had come to realize, somewhere over the previous few days, that her son was his own man.

Stew recognized the look on his mother’s face. “I’ll keep my cell phone on. Don’t worry,” he said as he hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, right. Just be careful… please,” she begged. They started for the door but she stopped them, “Oh, Alex, before I forget… I know it’s still a couple of weeks away, but would you and your grandmother like to have Thanksgiving dinner with us? It helps to plan these things well ahead.”

“Sure,” Alex replied, surprised. “I mean, I’ll have to ask her, of course, but I don’t think she would object. I’ll call her tomorrow and then let you know.”

“We’d be delighted to have you. Now, you two go and have fun.”

“Bye, Mom. Love you.”

“I love you, Stewart. And Alex…”

“Yes, Mrs. Kasey?”

“Have him home by two.”

“I will.”

Mrs. Kasey stood underneath the archway between the foyer and the kitchen and watched her son and Alex walk out the front door. Stew caught his mom looking as he pulled the door, pausing before shutting it to give her a smile that silently said, ‘Thank you.’

“Your mom’s a sweet lady,” Alex said as they walked to her car in the driveway. “I wish I had a mom who cared about me that much.”

“I’m sure your parents care about you,” Stew said, trying to be reassuring.

“You don’t know my parents,” she returned as she unlocked the car door. “All they care about is the fact that I’m not who they intended to raise me to be. Anyway, let’s get off that subject. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Alex… if you need to talk about it, we can.”

“Not right now. Let’s just have fun tonight. We can talk about it some other time.”

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready… I’m here.” Stew paused and considered what he said, “That came out a lot more after-school-special-ish than I meant it to.”

“That’s okay. It’s cute,” she chuckled.

“You know… I was going to take you to this poetry slam at the Milestone,” Stew said.

“Poetry slam? They still have those things?”

“Yeah. Few and far between but those that are left have been around for awhile.”

“That’s cool. I didn’t know you wrote poetry.”

“Huh. Well, I’m not very good. I specialize in really short, really crappy poetry that doesn’t rhyme.”

“You win a lot of these poetry slams, then?” Alex quipped.

“Funny.”

“So, why aren’t we going?”

“Eh… the only thing I’ve written lately is something for—” He stopped and swallowed a large cotton ball of apprehensiveness as he realized what he was about to say.

“For what?”

“For you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I feel special. And you don’t want to read this poem for me in front of other people?”

“Exactly.”

“I can understand. Can I hear it now? I mean, if you don’t mind reading it to me.”

“Can you drive with the dome light on?”

“Yeah. It’s not a long one, is it?”

“No. I told you—really short, really bad. Okay,” Stew said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pants pocket. He flattened it out on his knee and held it in front of him as Alex flipped the switch on the dome light. “You ready?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Here goes… Before the beginning of Spring, the wings of the phoenix are bare but for a few stubs. By midsummer, they are lush, bright and green, and full of life. Autumn arrives bringing fire. Flames rise from the wings of the phoenix burning orange, amber and crimson. Then… it’s Winter… and there’s nothing left of the phoenix but ash grey, and the long wait for Spring to come again.” He glanced at her nervously, as he folded up the piece of paper and put it back in his pocket.

“That wasn’t bad,” she commented.

“No?”

“No. But how was it about me?”

“I didn’t say it was about you. I said—”

“Oh, yes. For me. That’s right.”

“I wrote it while I was still in the hospital. I was looking out the window… at the trees. The leaves changing color. I love driving down this stretch of eighty-five between Salisbury and Charlotte during the day. It’s lined with trees the whole way. In the fall, when the leaves are at their peak color, it looks like you’re driving between walls of fire, which is kind of scary for me. I have pyrophobia. But they’re just trees and that makes it all the more beautiful. It’s my favorite time of year.”

“Pyrophobia, huh?”

Stew nodded. “I’m not sure why.”

“So, the leaves in Autumn let you enjoy the beauty of fire without fear of getting burned.”

“Exactly. Anyway… and then, I thought about that speech you were reading when I woke up.”

“The Phoenix myth.”

“Yeah. And the two ideas just came together and… voila!”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, well… sometimes the story behind a work of art is the masterpiece and the art is just… art.”

“Did you come up with that one all by yourself?”

“I have my moments.”

As they drove toward Charlotte, while they talked and laughed, an odd feeling came over both of them—strange, even for déjà vu. To Alex, it felt like she was repeating a scene from someone else’s past. Nothing was at all familiar, and everything seemed out of place—like a Trekkie at a Renaissance Festival. For Stew, it felt exactly like the dream with the pitch-black room, only without the fire. He couldn’t actually hear a voice but somebody was trying to tell him something. Stew and Alex both decided to keep this feeling to themselves—not even telling each other.

Their dinner conversation was filled with talk about favorite childhood movies, their top five favorite soundtracks of all time and which films were better than the books they were adapted from. Alex did not mind at all that the conversation was focused on movies. She loved movies herself and it made the awkward glances they shared shorter. Still, it wasn’t until halfway through the Dead Parrot’s Society’s performance at The Perch that they stopped thinking about the strange feeling they experienced together.

On the way back to Alex’s car after the show, Stew found himself in the peculiar position of what to do next. I wonder if Alex wants to go back to her place and see where things go or just call it a night… He sensed by her silence that she was struggling with the same thoughts. He was unwilling to let the weirdness of the first half of the evening ruin the second half, so, he decided to air it out.

“Alex, on the way to dinner, did you—”

“Feel something strange? Yeah.”

“You did? Like we’d done this before?”

“Sort of. It was quite odd. And even more odd that you felt it, too, but in a romantic way, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to scare you off and it is a bit on the cliché side. You know, two people meet each other and there’s an instant connection and they feel like they’ve known one another forever. Are they soul mates?” she asked dramatically. “It’s so mushy.” She looked at him with half-hearted cynicism in her eyes and grinned. “Something tells me you’re not the least bit scared by any of this.” She was surprised by his lack of anything to say. “You probably like mushy. Don’t you?”

He was stunned into silence by how well she had him pegged.

“It’s okay. You can admit it. I won’t tell anyone that you like chick flicks.”

Without warning, he leaned into her, pinning her against the car door. He looked into her eyes, wide and welcoming. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I like chick flicks.” He placed his left hand gently behind her head for support and kissed her. She put a hand on his shoulder pretending to resist, but not very convincingly. As he put his right arm around her waist, he felt an icy, wet drop on his forehead. And then another in his eye. He pulled away to wipe the wetness out of his eyelashes as she laughed at his horrible timing. He kissed her again and as the rain soaked them to the bone in a cold, November downpour, steam rose from their embrace.

She tensed up just enough to send Stew the message that she was ready to get in the car. He looked up and let the rain take the place of a cold shower. Moments later, they sat in the car and looked at each other, water dripping down their faces, their entire bodies shivering. They couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, we’re going to have to stop by my apartment now. I’ll have to find you some sweats to put on.” His face went flush as he smiled. “I know what you’re thinking,” Her cheeks returned the sentiment. “But I told your mom I’d have you home by two.” Suddenly, Stew looked rejected. “What? She’s intimidating. Sweet, but very intimidating.”

“Damn it! A brilliant excuse to get naked gone to waste.”

“I know. Such a shame,” Alex replied. She smiled and blinked with false empathy.

After getting some dry clothes they drove back to Stew’s parents’ house and Alex walked Stew to the door.

“I didn’t think about it, but we could’ve stopped by my apartment to get dry clothes,” Stew said.

“The sweats are a little tight, aren’t they? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll live.” Stew stood with his back to his front door, prepared to have to kiss her ‘good night.’

“You have a note on your door,” Alex said as she pointed at the large, walnut door. Stew turned around and looked. Sure enough, protected from the rain by the porch overhang was a yellow post-it note stuck below the door knocker. Stew walked up the steps, took the note and read it just loud enough for Alex to hear.

Stew,

Tell Alex she can sleep on the couch

if she’d like to avoid driving home late

at night on slippery roads.

See you in the morning.

Love, Mom

“I suppose it’s a given that we should behave?” Alex remarked, somewhat disappointed.

“That’s probably a good assumption.”

“Watching Conan O’Brien will just have to suffice… unless you’re tired.”

“No. I’ll stay up for a while,” Stew said as he went into the kitchen to get some drinks and snacks.

As they sat and watched television, Stew held Alex in his arms and found he was more comfortable and happier than he had been in a long time. He had not had a hallucination all evening, though, he did not mention this fact to Alex, for fear of jinxing himself.

An hour later, Mrs. Kasey came into the living room and found the two asleep. She nudged Stew’s shoulder. He woke up, but was careful not to disturb Alex, who was still sleeping.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, Hon, so you can both stretch out,” his mom suggested.

“Okay,” Stew said groggily, easing out from behind Alex, picking up his shoes and heading towards the staircase.

“How was your date?” Mrs. Kasey asked, following Stew. “Good, I take it?”

“Yeah, it was good.”

“Did you guys get rained on?”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Stew smiled, remembering the moment.

“Well, I’m glad you’re home safe. I’ll cook a big breakfast in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” she said, looking up at him as he stood on the first step.

“I love you, too, Mom.”

“Good night.”

“G’night.”

Stew walked downstairs and into the kitchen, wearing flannel lounge pants and a t-shirt, with much more spring in his step than normal. He was not usually a morning person, but he was this morning. And the reason was standing at the kitchen counter, drinking a mug of coffee and talking to his mom. Alex was wearing a pair of his old pajamas and he had to admit, they looked better on her than they ever did on him.

“Good morning,” Stew said with a Charlie Brown grin, as if he finally kicked the football without falling on his back.

“Good morning, Sunshine. Aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Alex and I were just wondering what you had planned today,” Mrs. Kasey replied.

“I don’t know. I thought we might go to Hurley Park.”

“Good. You have time for a nice, big breakfast, then.”

“Yeah. Pancakes and bacon?”

“The works.”

“Awesome. I need coffee. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed or not.”

“I poured you a cup when I heard you come down the stairs,” his mom said as she handed him a mug. “Here you are, Sweetie.”

“Stew, your mother and I talked last night and… well, we’re one-hundred percent behind you staying in Charlotte, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You have two good friends in Marc and Alex. And the damage to your…” He pointed to the back of his head while he tried to remember the proper term, “occipital lobe doesn’t seem to have any effect on your ability to function normally. You’re a free spirit. You always have been. You get it from your mother. And you have every right to stand up to us and make your case for independence. Some people in the same situation as you would be content to live the rest of their lives helpless and letting others care for them, but you’re playing the cards you’ve been dealt and we’re very proud of you.”

Stew stood there for a moment with his mouth agape and then said, “I’m speechless. For a minute there, I thought I saw some blue paint on your face.”

“Very funny. Now, say ‘I love you, Dad’”

“I love you, Dad,” he said, chuckling as he gave his dad a hug.

“Now say ‘I love you, Mom’”

He walked over to where she was putting dishes in the dishwasher. She turned around and looked him in the eye as if they were two fierce enemies who suddenly decided to be friends. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Stewart.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him toward her for an embrace a son can only get from his mother.

“Now say,” Stew’s dad said, interrupting the affecting moment, ‘Where’s breakfast?’”

Stew lifted his chin off of his mom’s shoulder to look at his dad and grinned.

“Now,” Mr. Kasey continued, “don’t make any plans for tonight, you two. I made reservations at The Wren House for seven-thirty. Deal?”

“That okay, Alex?” Stew asked her.

“Sure.”

“Deal,” Stew said, turning back to his father as he pulled a chair out for Alex to sit in and then sat down himself.