Unfinished Business

Unfinished Business

No, Owen never asked for everything to be fair, he only wished for that one chance to finish his story. It would be easier just to move on and leave. Now they for the rest of time he would be viewed as a monster.   The night was cool, transparent, and somehow even-tempered. It reminded him of sitting on his grandmother’s wooden porch in late September when the leaves were just starting to change. It seemed like it was more than a lifetime ago. Now he felt like he was merely a shadow inhabiting a world beyond the living, but it wasn’t life or death. And did he really have a choice? His friends kept advising him to let go of the past, but the past was very much a part of him, but he knew he would be stuck until he could tell his side of the story.  He believed that the reader brings her own experience to the story, so every story has infinite points of view. And all good stories were series of could’ves went through his mind. He tried not to wallow in pity which made his predicament worse. His grief was replaced by a wave of slow, growing anger at those who had betrayed him. The very one he thought he could trust, stabbed him so hard the wounds would never go away; not even afterlife was over. People could be so cruel and careless, yet he was the monster they created. Their fear and regret fed his hungry spirit.

In some ways it must’ve been easy for him that no one studied him closely, no one would notice that there was something askew, and something dark and puzzling in his expression that only a few could see.

Owen wandered up and down the empty halls, thinking about his version of a story that he never had a chance to tell. No. Sometimes time didn’t heal wounds.  The past was sharp and inevitable.  The stars blackened in the clouds.  it must have been a night like this one when he glanced over her head at the cluster of trees behind him and heard the wind scraping against the trees. Time had gone by too fast and now all he had was time. He watched people grow, change and move on; whereas he remained in the same place. He was restless but couldn’t move forward. Sometimes wounds were like a cancer that invaded the soul and killed the spirit over and over again. He tried to pray, but he had a hard time believing in a higher power that would ultimately release him from his current prison of grief and resentment. It was so much harder to forgive someone he loved. He had trusted Bernice and still cherished the memories of the summer picnics. She was still attractive after all those years. Bernice was tall and thin and had deep hazel eyes that could be both empathetic and fierce. He admired the way she could see through a person, and he longed for some kind of closure he wouldn’t get. Was it still worth it to stick around, and try to force her to see him, or just move on and try to set himself free?

Where could he go? He couldn’t leave but couldn’t stay. The sense of constant inertia was difficult. When he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t look at himself.

Was he really a monster or was it a matter of perception? The bitterness made him feel weak and powerful at the same time, but ultimately he had given his power away.  Bitter thoughts circled above him in the shape of hawks. He wondered how many victims sent postcards to another era, looking up with fear and regret. 

He wandered the halls by himself and would call Bernice and hang up. She could never figure out what was going on.

He only had Gracie and Agnus to talk to. Agnus was a tenured professor who had been working at the university for years. She had a love/ hate relationship with Bernice and the two constantly bantered back and forth.

Then there was Gracie. The accident occurred in front of Gracie's front yard. Gracie had called 911, and the two of them had a special relationship since then. People couldn't understand Gracie's ability to see things that other people didn't, and she had a reputation for being crazy. She would calm him down when he contemplated doing something destructive.

Then there was Gracie's granddaughter who witnessed the accident when she was only two. He tried to communicate with her, but she thought she was just hearing voices. Now that Summer, the granddaughter, was accused of something she didn't do, he was enraged all over again. It reminded him of the false accusations against him. He wanted to help Summer, but in order to help her, he would have to take something away from her. He needed her voice to open a window.

He followed Summer around the University even though Gracie firmly told Owen to leave his granddaughter alone. But Owen could not leave her alone. He scribbled,"Literary Vampires," in Summer's jounral. Maybe Summer could somehow help him finish his lifelong project, and he would eventually be free to go.

Bernice wanted Summer kicked out of the University for an alleged bomb threat that was all a misunderstanding. The University studied Summer's creative writing, and forced her to see a psychaitrist. Summer was shy and had a hard time taking up for herself. She also made the mistake of hanging out with that goofy Hal. Of course, no one was innocent. Summer was impulsive when she got drunk and shoud've been paying more attention to what Hal was doing, but she had no idea a doll could be construed as some kind of threat. Owen decided to reveal himself in the newspaper office, as no one was ever in there. Summer could see him just like her granddmother could, and he suspected Summer might be even stronger than Gracie. But he would have to hurt her to help her. Maybe she wouldn't even want his help, but her entire career could be ruined if the asshole Dickerson family pressed charges against her for alleged threats. He had made his decision to help her, and he would be careful not to take too much from her. He could also use her strength to make Bernice eventually see him and admit what she did to him. He was determined to get some kind of apology, so he would feel free to go.