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CHAPTER 4: Chapter Four

-- CHAPTER FOUR --


The persistent sound of the buzzing alarm clock seemed even more harsh and irritating than usual as Steven reached over with a groggy hand and fumbled for the snooze button. He had slept fitfully after an evening of deep reflection and writing in his journal.

Since his haircut, Linda's words kept ringing in his ears. "You can't go on like this..." "It's just not healthy..."

Unable to return to sleep, he thought to himself that with Linda as a friend he might just as well still be living at home with his parents. Her watchful eye and words of guidance seemed even more omnipresent than those of his Mum. Still, Linda was his truest friend, and he was grateful for her concern, however she chose to express it. Moreover, in this case, he knew she was right.

He showered, shaved, and dressed quickly, and put on some coffee. He had a deadline looming, and was looking forward to a full day at the word processor in order to get his publisher off his back.

But having poured himself a coffee and sat down at the desk, he found himself curiously out of the mood to write. "You can't go on like this...." "It's just not healthy..."

Steven looked around the small flat. Everywhere he looked he saw Scott. In the photographs on the mantle, most of which featured Steven and Scott together; in the hangings on the wall which Scott had teased Steven unmercifully about when they purchased them together in Mexico; in the ancient objects of pottery and art around the room, many of which Scott had unearthed himself on his archeological digs. Steven saw him in the colors of the room, which Scott had insisted be earth tones and not the outlandish but happy colors that Steven himself might have initially chosen.

How does one just erase eight years? Steven wondered. Eight wonderful years. How does one even begin to move on, anyway?

Steven admitted to himself that he had done little to move forward. In the year since Scott's death he hadn't changed anything about the flat. Somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to get rid of Scott's things. He also quit traveling, accepting only those writing assignments that he could research and write from home, and those were getting fewer and fewer. And, on top of everything else, he couldn't seem to concentrate on his work anymore. Everything in his life seemed dull and bland.

"Linda is right", he said to himself. "I've got to get sorted and pull myself together."

With a nod of resolve, he shut down the computer, went to the storage closet, and found some empty boxes. He started with the mantle. He decided he would leave one photo of the two of them together. The rest had to go. It was not his objective to obliterate Scott's memory, but he realized that his flat should no longer be a shrine commemorating their life together.

He carefully packed away most of the pottery pieces, leaving one of Scott's favorites in a prominent place on the bookshelves. He also went through their music, keeping only his own music plus Scott's precious old Tim Janis CD collection. Steven knew he couldn't do without those anyway, and thought that he could play them when he wanted to think of Scott. He couldn't bear to play them yet, but believing that the time would come, he put them in a place of honor in the front of all the other discs.

Then, taking a deep breath, he took the larger of the empty boxes and headed for Scott's closet. It was a task he dreaded above all others.