A State of Mind

“Hey guys!”                    

The cheerful woman walked gaily to the empty pulled-up chair. She sat right down, her wide grin opening into a stream of consciousness. Everyone around this log cabin lodge’s round wooden table wore pursed smiles. When she finally stopped and looked around her, the woman crinkled her brows and asked with confusion, “Why doesn’t anyone like my story?”    

“Because you’re rambling.” Hawthorne had his usual thick burgundy and icing-white scarf wrapped around his neck. “Don’t, Jester. It’s annoying.”

The woman’s eyes bulged in embarrassment, and she shuffled in her seat. As if she needed more attention, the chair creaked underneath her. But she leaped off, telling everyone as if she won a triumphant event, “I’m going outside. Getting some fresh air is the best thing for me to do!”

“But it’s snowing outside. It’s freezing—”

“Don’t you guys track me down to drag me back. I’m leaving!” She looked over at the scarfed man. He was laughing so hard, slapping his booted foot. Scoffing, the woman walked away, exiting her usual New Years break night at this cabin. Starting her 2018 Honda Civic LX, she backed out and then went down the highway. As she drove, the woman thought about her friends back at the lodge. She always wanted a 2022 Honda Civic. Hawthorne would get her this car, he promised.

The woman let recent memories stream through her mind like leaves going down a fast stream. Thoughts of the previous year distracted her from the zooming cars and roaring motorcycles. It was 2021. Last year, the woman showed up every day, every Christmas party and every hour of Thanksgiving. She had gone to great lengths to bring Sandra a pretty dark pink blouse to match her flowery earrings. The formerly heavy woman lost so much weight—344 pounds to be exact. The foursome all celebrated with a bouquet of roses and a trip to the beach. Klondike had scaled Mt. Everest, Mt. Helena, Mt. Fuji and Mt. Kilimanjaro. He fearlessly chased hurricanes and tornadoes on the TV show Storm Chasers, even appearing on the national weather channel to discuss current tornadoes and hurricanes ripping through America and other countries.

She slowed down, turning into a gas station. Grabbing her purse from the passenger seat, the woman went inside. As she washed her hands, the woman hoped Hawthorne didn’t forget her. He always showed up for her theatre auditions, snowplowing work and garage sales. Buying things he said were usable, Hawthorne would remark how her delicious dinners and luncheons made him want her recipes. The woman walked towards and then scanned the rows for a healthy snack with which to bring home.

They were romantic nights. The candles flickered quietly as the two people lingered in their booth long after the waiter had served them their usual pasta and spaghetti and meatballs. Then when the manager booted them out, the woman would crack up as Hawthorne loudly proclaimed gratitude for letting them stay that long. The following day, the woman remembered, Hawthorne was with her at the base of Sugar Loaf Mountain. All four of them had gathered for a small picnic party. Smiling in laughter to herself, the woman finally grabbed two bags of popcorn and a big bottle of Pepsi, paid for it and left. But after filling her tank with gas, the woman opened a bag, sighing. Sandra always warned her to watch her weight. This woman wasn’t heavy at all, but she promised Sandra she wouldn’t touch anything fattening. The woman collected her belongings after getting out of the car, quickly heading into her tiny house, the leaking roof already caked with snow. The heater was broken. One of the windows was broken.   

She blinked as she fell onto her plush couch in the beige and white-carpeted living room. Laying back after wrapping herself in wool blankets and pulling on wool socks, the woman closed her eyes—

A knock at the door. She huffed as she threw off the blankets and then got up, her mind busy. Striving to pay attention to Hawthorne as he told her he’d fix her house, she nodded. “Fine. You can repair the window. And heater.”

After about an hour, Hawthorne proudly demonstrated that he had officially begun the new year. The next morning, after the woman had spent the night soaking in more memorable moments, she tested the window. It worked beautifully. The woman knew Hawthorne would never tamper with her house. The woman called Hawthorne after thinking about how much he had done for her the previous year.          

“Yes,” Hawthorne began immediately, “I know you want me to get you a 2022 Honda Civic. But, please, you’re lonely. You need someone in your life to help you ditch your problems. Here’s Sandra.”

“Hey, girl! How’s it going?” The bubbly, spirited voice made the woman jump. She wasn’t always ready for such a bright, smiling voice at 5:30 AM. She told Sandra how her name was Jester. She didn’t belong in an office from 7:40 AM to 5:30 PM every single day. Not that it was drudgery, but it wasn’t her. “I need to—”

“Get over here, and stop thinking so much!” Sandra’s usual cheery personality oozed through the phone. The woman rolled her eyes, exhaling impatiently. “Why, it’s a glorious day. Come on, Jester. Don’t be hating on such an awesome—”

“Monday.” The woman droned, and hung up. She tossed the phone on the ugly quilted bed and went to work, filing through the paperwork and emails. That afternoon, she took a trip to the coffee machine. As she went to grab a mug, the woman reflected on the previous year’s days when Klondike and she went skiing. Skiing was his way of enjoying the wintry days and soaking in the wintry sun by spending all day, every day last Christmas break skiing the slopes of Colorado. Then—

“Uh—excuse me! You’re making a huge mess, Jes. Watch it!”

The woman instantly jerked her mug away, apologizing profusely for the overflow of coffee onto the pretty carpeted floor, staining it with a huge ugly throw-up colored brown liquid. Ditching the coffee for the stain remover, the woman dashed about in the back room. She threw rags onto the floor, pounding them into the ground, and then—

“Ma’am, use the stain remover first. That’s how you’ll get the stains out.”

The woman quietly picked herself up, threw a sarcastic grin on her face and walked calmly away, ignoring the still-running coffee machine. Letting her mind scream at every other coworker staring at her, the woman jumped in the car. It’s just an hour. Later, Hawthorne texted her he had been let out early, as he had worked the Monday after New Year’s Day. So he met her at the park.

Getting out of his car (the woman pretended not to notice), Hawthorne marched up to her car window and tapped on it. Telling her to get out, Hawthorne walked around it and knocked on the opposite window. He then pulled the door’s handle, and ordered her to unlock her car. When she did so, he slid into the passenger seat after putting the purse on the floor, leaving the door wide open. It wasn’t snowing today.

“Jester, what’s going on?” 

“Huh?” The woman looked over, blinked and then scratched her eyes. “Yes? What is it?”

“Jester!” Hawthorne’s angry fist came down hard on the dashboard. The woman jerked awake and turned to face him. He was wearing his scarf. She blinked and then put her hand to her nose, striving not to burst into tears. Blinking rapidly, the woman just shot out that the previous year was hard, and to top it off, she just went from thing to thing to thing. This year, she’d find something to be. To do. To have.

“I just…don’t belong.”

“Oh, Jester.” He stretched his coated arms out to her, she went to him and he wrapped her into a hug. “Please, don’t say that. Look at all the good times we’ve had. Please come back. The further you run, the more you’ll leave me.” He hugged her tight, and then pulled away. “Come on. Don’t make the rest of this day be a river of tears. Or this year. Make some memories; don’t just remember them!”

“I made a mess at the office. Coffee’s everywhere. I—”

“Jester, maybe try out for the circus.” He chuckled. “Your name is Jester.”

She snorted. “Yeah. Maybe that.”

“Or a street performer.”

“Hawthorne, I just…I want to be someone you want to be with. I really do! I just get lost.”

“Lost in thought. Don’t let your mind play tricks on you. You can’t just want. This new year, I want you to care about us. Not just in your head, but in real life, too!” Before he got out of the car, Hawthorne said, “Please, Jester. Make us laugh again. Especially me.” Then he pleaded, “Please?”

The woman nodded and then sat there after he left, reminiscing about how he would always sneak into the grocery store and help her buy her food, adding some romantic things to the cart for her. When they had brought everything into the house, she smiled bright at all the chocolates and roses he had bought her for Valentine’s Day and the other days. Then she blinked back into reality, looking back at his car. It was gone. Did he go to the store? She called him, mentally returning to those days.

“Hawthorne, I—sorry to bother you. Did you—”

“Go to work, Jester. Make the best of it.”

She did. And actually made someone laugh about the coffee machine mistake. She poured everyone coffee (even her confused but merciful boss), the woman worked that Saturday to make up for lost time. Her mind was busy, but her heart was set on telling Hawthorne to stop buying her gifts. She didn’t need someone to make herself feel better. She knew she needed to solve the problem herself.      

She called him that night after work. They talked a long while. Afterwards, the woman sat there, the phone in her limp hand. Hawthorne’s always there for me. So why am I constantly retreating into my mind? I really like him! She looked over at the hallway. The heat warmed her. But it wasn’t Hawthorne. She grabbed her purse and dashed out of the door. But she sensed she didn’t need to drive. She returned her purse into the house, locked it and then walked down the sidewalk, and looked over. He was standing there, against a streetlight, one foot on it and one foot on the sidewalk. Looking up, he smiled at her, waving a little. She ran across the parking lot towards him.

“Hawthorne! Hawthorne. Don’t go—wait.” She caught up to him, ordering him not to buy her things anymore. He nodded and stood up straight.

“Thanks so much for the extra groceries. I…” She looked down but then looked up again. “Thanks for the gifts, Haw. I really appreciate them.”

“Is your mind reeling with all the memories we had at that restaurant?”

“Yes.” She nodded honestly. “It is.” She laughed admittedly. “But I don’t want to dwell in the past. It’s a new year.”

He held out a gloved hand. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

They walked away together, the woman asking questions. He just kept quiet as they drove in his car. As they turned into a place, the woman studied familiar-looking cars lined in front of the store. Gasping, she looked right over at Hawthorne. “This is a—” 

“Just wait.”

After getting out, Hawthorne opened the woman’s door for her. She thanked him as she got out, and then her purse came to mind. The woman resisted the urge to suddenly need it and then shut the door. Hawthorne’s eyebrows were raised. “Jester, why would you do that?”

“The least I can do for you. Do something for you.” She wore a grin, but he shook his head.

“Don’t ever do that again. Now.” He bent his arm, and told her to link her arm through his. As they walked like this into the store, the woman looked all around. She asked whether he was buying himself a new car. He said yes to the buying part, but no to the self part.

“Oh!”

After a couple of hours, Hawthorne drove the woman back to her house. Killing the engine, he looked at the woman, and she at him. Thanking him for her new 2022 Honda Civic, she said she’d drive her old one back to the place. He insisted.

She told him she couldn’t be more grateful for a friend like him. “A friend who remembers me. Even when I remember just the past.”

“And I couldn’t be gladder to serve someone like you.”

“Huh?” The woman was perplexed.

“Well,” he shrugged, “The least I could do.”

She laughed. That Sunday night, they both went out to the restaurant. Two candles stood together on the table while they ate their usual. Then, they walked along the sidewalk, bringing up Sandra’s bubbly personality at the crack of dawn that morning. The woman’s mind flooded with her spirited nature but paid attention as he returned the look, asking her why she always smiles and laughs to herself.

“Hawthorne, for so long, I’ve pulled myself—and trapped myself into—a world of memory and past and yesterday. Last year. It’s a new year. You bought me the car I always wanted.”

“Great to drive?”

“Yes.” She shook her head, revealing that she had tested it, driving all throughout the neighborhood. Rolling down the window, she had let her mind flood with memories of Hawthorne standing there at the park when they were little children, riding that tricycle past him. Her arms were up, as she expected him to cheer her on as she crossed the playground. She was racing Sandra and Klondike, beating them both. Winning for once. Once she did, she whooped and hollered her own congratulatory remarks. Grinning wide, the woman turned around, stopping and slowly lowering her arms as everyone circled Klondike’s tricycle, congratulating him. She looked—her toy was a foot or so behind his. She blinked and cried, wailing that she had lost.

“Only in your mind, honey.” Her mother told her as they drove home from preschool that day. “We’re all winners. You just need to be one.”

How? The woman had always wanted to know the answer to this question. 

The woman wore a grin that couldn’t be wiped from her face seemingly stuck until she went over to Sandra’s house for her niece’s birthday party. Late that night, after twelve hyper, silly twelve-year-olds all stampeded down the basement stairs to watch a girly movie, the woman returned home, excitement still flowing through her. Not as cheery as Sandra, but still very happy.

“So, yeah.” The woman eyed Hawthorne the next night at the restaurant. “I had a great time.”

He told her that not once did he see her eyes glaze over.

“Thanks, Hawthorne.”

He drove her home. The following Friday, they were walking along the sidewalk next to the restaurant. Hawthorne stopped and looked behind him.

“Movie?”

“Sure!”

When both of them had sat down with their water and coke, the woman thanked Hawthorne for the tickets. He nodded. Klondike and Sandra going to the movies every month flooded her head. But the woman rooted for the protagonist as he kicked a henchman off the chugging train, it roaring down the train track towards a cliff. After jumping out of her seat, she was ordered to sit down.

The woman stopped him as they left the theatre. “Hawthorne, I want to let you know that I’m applying to a new job. It’ll help me stay focused. I zone at work. It’s an online positon. I’ll be teaching young children.”

“Wow! You’ll work with confidence!” Then he winked. “I hope.”

The woman nodded. “Now everyone will see my name!”

But Hawthorne sucked in his lips, nodding stiffly. When they pulled up to her house, they both got out, he walking around to her, saying he got tired of always being there for her when she was off in Mentality Land. Palms sweaty, the woman tried reminding him that they were good friends. Honest!

“Please, Hawthorne! We all make mistakes. You kind of said—”

“No, I didn’t!” He snapped, startling her. “I’d rather be with a woman who’s ready at the crack of dawn than with a woman who tunes out during the important parts.”   

She waved furiously, but he just drove off. Then the woman went inside and slammed the door. Hawthorne’s… She stopped. If Hawthorne was there for her, why couldn’t she be for him? He was real. Why wasn’t she? The following weekend, the woman sat at the restaurant’s booth alone. She inhaled and then exhaled, loneliness weighing heavily on her shoulders.  

“Hey.” He slid right into the seat opposite her, startling her. “Sorry. I was going to call you—”

“Haw, please. I don’t deserve this.”

“Check your phone.”

She grabbed it and read its message. 

Thanks, Jester, for always wanting to be with me. No other woman is like you. I don’t deserve your love. We’ve got each other. She stared at him, confused. “How have I—?”

“I can’t just keep slandering you at work. But you helped me by being there all throughout last year and now while I backstab you.” Guilt sagged his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” They walked towards each other, and embraced, apologizing sincerely.

That night, Jester stuck to her New Year’s promise—that before the year ended, Hawthorne and she would be closer to each other than she had to her memories. She still lost herself in her own little world, but Hawthorne, she noticed, was warm and accepting. They were building a true friendship.