Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  Vincent and Alistair sat nearby. Alistair continued to chuckle as Vincent merely looked at the shards, occasionally shaking his head.

  “Oh my.” Patty hurried through the door, to Stephen’s side. “What happened?”

  “Vincent didn’t tell you?” Stephen looked at Vincent, dumbfounded.

  Vincent shrugged.

  Patty looked back at the shards. “He said you were hurt and needed stitches but were okay. He didn’t tell me you looked like a pincushion.”

  “Well, uh . . .” Stephen searched for an explanation as medication made his thoughts fuzzy.

  “Stephen was getting us some water. We’d been hanging out, talking, ye know? On his way back from the kitchen, he flattened out.” Alistair helped get him off the hook.

  “Yeah. When I fell, I must have fallen forward. The glasses broke—and, voila, I’m a porcupine, but on the front side.”

  Patty gave him a funny look before continuing. “Are you hurting?” Patty grabbed his hand.

  “They gave me a shot. I don’t feel much right now.” Stephen flicked one of the longer pieces of glass sticking out. “See? Nothing.” He found it hard to focus as the painkillers coursed through his system.

  Alistair and Vincent chuckled.

  “Oh! You two think this is funny, do you?” Patty’s eyes lit up as she glared crossly at them. Both men straightened up in their chairs.

  “No, yes . . . uh, maybe?” Alistair looked at Vincent for help.

  Vincent simply shook his head.

  “No to the hurt part. But funny to the drugged-up part?” Alistair’s face contorted as though he also felt severe pain.

  Patty stormed out. Stephen heard her calling for a nurse as she walked down the hallway.

  “I think Alistair and I should go. I believe Patty can take care of you from here. The wall is up. Ye should be safe.”

  “Thanks.” Stephen gave them two thumbs up and tried his hardest to smile as they walked out the door.

  Eventually, Patty came back in and sat with Stephen while a doctor pulled glass from his body. He received stitches in half a dozen places and had bandages all over when he left the hospital.

  ****

  Stephen awoke on his couch. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten there. His mind still felt numb, and his memories were fuzzy. The storm had passed, with little more than drizzle tapping against the windows.

  Stephen grunted as he sat up. “That stings.” He counted at least six areas with stitches. Additionally, there were numerous bandages. He sniffed the air. The aroma of bacon began filling his nostrils. He turned toward the sound of sizzle and saw Patty preparing plates.

  She looked at him. “Great timing! How are you feeling?”

  “Hmmm, s-sore,” Stephen managed as he tried to find a more comfortable sitting position.

  “Well, you’ll have to take it easy until you’re healed.” Patty brought the plates and drinks over, then set them on the coffee table. “It took them a while to get the glass out. The doctor said you may still have very tiny shards just under the skin in areas. Over time, they’ll itch and come out on their own. You’ll want to be mindful of that. And, you’ll need to buy some more drinking glasses.”

  Stephen looked again at all the bandages. He couldn’t help but wonder just how many shards were still there. The sudden urge to scratch became overwhelming as his fingernails lightly scraped across some of the smaller bandages.

  Patty slapped his hand. “Don’t scratch.”

  “Okay.” Stephen chuckled. Patty looked cute whenever she got cross with him. His attention turned back toward the plate of food in front of him. “Biscuits, gravy, bacon, and eggs. You really are a keeper. I must have been out cold,” Stephen managed as he scarfed down a forkful, only then realizing how hungry he was.

  “You were. I tried to be quiet. That’s hard to do with the echo in this place.” Patty began eating too. “So, are you ready to talk now?”

  “Sure, babe. What about?” He shoveled another bite.

  “I thought we could start with what’s going on with you.”

  Stephen continued eating, not giving it much thought. “Like I said, I just passed out.”

  “Not that.” Patty said, a concerned look spread across her face.

  She had gotten Stephen’s attention. He sat his fork and plate down, concerned with where the conversation might go.

  “Well, kind of that and more,” she continued. “You’ve been distant. I get that Waltz’s passing has been hard on you. I do. And I’m glad that you and Vincent are getting closer. But secret meetings, Alistair from Waltz’s ‘secret society’ of friends” —she made quote marks with her fingers—“and now the glass. I love you—”

  “I love you too,” Stephen replied.

  “Wait.” Patty waved her hand as though magically stopping Stephen with it. “I’m not done. I love you. And I trust you. But there’s more going on than you’re telling me. I don’t like that, at all.”

  Stephen remained silent. He didn’t dare interrupt again.

  “I’m willing to give you a little more time to figure out what you want from this relationship. Ithink we could have something great together. If that’s going to happen, you’ve got to trust me. If you don’t want to tell me the truth, don’t tell me anything at all. I know you well enough to know when you’re being less than honest.”

  Stephen sat motionless. His heart raced. He wanted to tell Patty everything. What would she think? Could he really trust her? Would she believe him? Worse, what if she believed him and wanted nothing to do with it all? That emotion he had become all too familiar with—fear—arose up in him. Could he make her stay? Of course he could. But by doing so, he’d lose her forever.

  “So, I want to know. What’s going on?”

  Stephen said nothing. He felt defeated.

  “I see. At least you aren’t lying to me. I said I’d give you time to figure it out.” She grabbed her plate and took it to the kitchen. “I’m gonna go. I need to do a load of laundry at home. I’ll be by this evening to check on you. I love you.” Patty remained poised.

  Stephen, however, couldn’t help but feel the tension, nervousness, and concern she hid on the inside. It only compounded his own emotions. He grabbed her wrist as she walked back past the couch toward the door. “I love you, Patty.” His lips pressed against her knuckles. She stroked the back of his head and left.

  Steam continued to rise from the food on Stephen’s plate, but he no longer felt hungry. Instead, sadness loomed. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got until his plate of food became a flying mess that splattered against the brick wall. As quick as it came, the anger left, leaving him all alone.

  Chapter 17

  For a month, Stephen wondered if he and Patty would be able to make it work. He talked with Vincent and Alistair. Both agreed that telling Patty anything was a bad idea and would only put her at risk. He tried everything he could think of to get past their problem. He put flowers on her desk early one morning, to find them in his trash can after lunch. He bought chocolates and had them delivered to her house. They were on his desk the next morning with a note that read “I don’t like chocolate . . . today.” Despite having Vincent, Alistair, and even Uncle Bernie to talk to, he had never felt more alone.

  Outside his office window, he saw people walking below. He tapped into their thoughts to share their happiness and feel how the warmth of the sun pleased them. It couldn’t have been a more beautiful day outside. This made his personal suffering hurt even more. Even in the office, people seemed to be in a better mood.

  “Hey, Boss.”

  Stephen looked at the doorway to see Johnathan entering. He also looked cheerful, wearing a bright blue button-down. “Oh, hey, Johnathan. What’s up?” Stephen tried to sound chipper too.

  “I was just wondering if you’ve read the press release for the warehousing business.”

  “Yeah. It’s good.”

  “Great. I still need you to officially sign off on it
.”

  “Oh, right.” Stephen sifted through some papers on his desk. He grabbed a pen and signed the bottom of the release. “Here you go. Hey, I thought Patty was signing off on these now.”

  “She told me you could do it.” Johnathan hesitated. “Oh! You haven’t given me anything yet on the organizational structure for the warehouse. I know you’ve been working on it. But the renovations are almost done. I’ll need to announce the officers soon, so we can start getting operations up and running.”

  “Yeah, I know. We’re almost there. You’ll have it by the end of the week.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Stephen.”

  “You got it.”

  Stephen couldn’t get his mind back on work. Patty dominated his thoughts. He loved her but remained aggravated, wishing she could understand. The closer proximity he was to her, the more agitated he became. Knowing that she was working just down the hall only served to make the agony worse. He grabbed his keys and helmet and headed down the hallway.

  “Will you be out the rest of the day?”

  The sound of her voice irritated him even more. “Yes.” How could she just sit there working?

  He hurried down the stairs and out of the building to his motorcycle. He hopped on and sped away. The wind racing by seemed to take away some of his troubles. And, the warm sun soothed him. Like a river following its natural flow, he ended up back at the shelter, where Bernie sat on the front porch.

  Walking up to the porch, he felt as though Bernie’s judgmental eyes burned a hole right through him. He sighed as he sat down next to him on the bench.

  “Hey, Uncle Bernie.”

  “Hello.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

  Bernie didn’t answer him immediately. For a moment, the two simply sat watching the birds in the yard. “One of my dearest friends in the world is gone. I was beginning to feel like I’d lost you too.”

  “Unc, you haven’t lost me. I’ve just been trying to find my way. I’ve called you a couple of times and left messages.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Bernie gave Stephen a hug. “I’ve just missed you, is all. How are things with you and Patty?”

  “Funny you should ask. We’re kind of fighting, I guess.”

  “What about?”

  “Mighty and Fallen stuff.”

  “What? You told her?” Bernie sounded agitated.

  “Calm down, Uncle Bernie. No, I didn’t tell her. That’s the issue. She knows something’s going on, and that I won’t tell her what that something is. She takes that as a sign of trust issue. I trust her. I . . . I’m just concerned for her safety.”

  “If you want my opinion, you definitely shouldn’t tell ’er.”

  “Really?”

  “Nope. You’ve only been seeing each other a few months. Fact is, you really don’t know her yet, do you? Besides, women shouldn’t be pushy like dat. A man’s gotta have his space. You can’t let her control you.”

  “I don’t think she’s trying to control me. I think she just wants to be closer to me.”

  “Maybe. But boundaries needs to be set early.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Stephen got up to head inside. “I’m getting a soda. You want one?”

  “Nah. I’ll come in with ya though. It’s cooler inside.”

  Stephen walked inside and straight to the kitchen, where he popped open a soda and sat on a stool.

  “So, you been lookin’ for Waltz’s killer?” Bernie asked.

  Stephen nearly choked. He grabbed a couple of paper towels and started wiping up his mess.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. You know, Waltz was well liked. But he had enemies too. Heck, we all do. We’ve all done something we aren’t proud of to someone that remembers it. I know it hurts, and Waltz deserves justice. But maybe you should let it go.”

  “Why would I do that?” Stephen knew Waltz and Bernie had stood on opposite sides of the fence on occasion. This suggestion, however, upset him.

  “One, I don’t want you to get hurt. Two, you should be trying to find out about you, your roots. Dat’s what should be important to you. Let the Mighty and the Fallen sort their stuff out without you.”

  “I know all I need to know about my roots.” Excitement in Stephen grew, as well as the need to calm himself. “I know you’re worried about me. You care about me a lot. Thank you. But it’s time for me to start being my own man, the right way. That means not running.”

  The two sat silent for a moment before Stephen spoke again. “Hey. I’m gonna go to the building out back and go through some of my old stuff. Why don’t I buy dinner? You got any guys staying here? I’ll have something ordered for them too.”

  “Nah. The weather’s still pretty. It’ll be another month before we really start seeing people come in and stay. Go do whatcha gotta do. I’ll fix dinner tonight.”

  Stephen went out the back door and around to the small storage building where he and Waltz first started his training. Walking in, he remembered his many lessons with Waltz and how cold it had been inside. He found an old football mixed in with other sports equipment. He came across all kinds of things from his childhood that Waltz had kept. There were trophies, ribbons, and certificates. He had been a fair student and participated in as much as time allowed. Near the back of the building hung a dusty punching bag he hadn’t used since high school. Stephen had flashes of him and Waltz working on the bag. I’d forgotten about this old thing.

  He jabbed at the bag, and dust flew. He waved the dust away and began punching again—first a jab, followed by a cross. Then a right hook landed on the bag. The chain snapped. “I guess it’s an old chain.” Stephen chuckled.

  In the back corner, a box marked as Waltz’s stuff sat covered with more dust than any other box. He open it carefully, the dust so thick it fell to the floor. Inside were newspaper clippings from around the world, where bad stuff had happened or had been stopped. He had no doubt these had to do with the Mighty. Underneath, he found pictures. He recognized a younger Waltz and Bernie. A photo of Waltz’s original triune was among them: Waltz, Marie, and Sam. They looked happy.

  He stopped. The last picture in his hand was of Layla, his mother. He’d never had any pictures of her, and he understood why. No one was to know about him. He stared at the picture, making note of the red hair. He had nearly forgotten her hair was red, much like Patty’s.

  Stephen boxed everything up. He would have it all moved tomorrow. He closed the building up and locked the door. Only he had the key.

  He headed to his old room, hoping to nap until dinnertime.

  Stephen dreamed about Tommy, who stood outside the apartment building again. The woman came to the window. He saw something he had forgotten. He climbed up to the balcony and looked in. There she stood, the woman with red hair. Next, Stephen found himself back in the church with Waltz, helping to feed the homeless and needy. His mind began to hurt, just as before. Someone helped him, a woman with red hair. Finally, he found himself at Kiener Plaza. He recognized what day it was. He looked around, realizing what was about to happen. He had to stop it. Running through the crowd, someone caught his eye—a red-haired woman. He turned back toward Waltz. It was too late.

  Stephen awoke, startled. He went down the hall to the kitchen where Bernie had just finished cooking.

  Bernie frowned. “Hey, hey, hey! What wrong? You look rattled.”

  Stephen’s heart raced. “I had another dream.”

  “A nightmare? What’s going on?”

  “You don’t understand. It was more like a memory. I remembered Tommy, the boy that died. I remembered being attacked in the kitchen. I remembered Waltz’s death.”

  “Stephen, why are you so shaken up? Calm down.”

  Stephen leaned on the counter. “You don’t understand . . . Red hair!” he shouted. “A woman with red hair was at all three! I couldn’t make out any faces. But after Waltz died, Patty was in the park.”

  “Are you suggesting that Patty—�
�

  Stephen interrupted Bernie. “Uncle Bernie, I need you to think. How did Waltz meet Patty?”

  “Through Vincent.”

  “Did she already work for Vincent before Waltz met him?”

  “No. She was the first hire Vincent made though. She showed up the day he moved into the building. She helped him carry stuff from his car and asked for a job.”

  “Was Waltz there?”

  “Of course. Waltz helped Vincent move.”

  Stephen started pacing. His thoughts ran wild before turning back toward Bernie. “Last question: Do you know if she took time off two weeks before I came back?”

  Bernie’s eyes shifted back and forth for a moment before locking on Stephen. “Yes. She was gone for a couple of weeks, visiting some friends. What’s this about?”

  “Patty was in the park when Waltz was killed. She found me shortly afterward. I’m remembering details I didn’t before. Uncle Bernie, do you think it’s possible she . . . Patty is one of the Fallen?”

  Bernie scratched the back of his head. Stephen watched, waiting patiently for an answer. “The girl always seemed special. I always thought there was more to her. But this?” He shook his head.

  “Uncle Bernie?” Stephen glared at him.

  “Yes . . . it makes sense. She could be responsible.”

  Stephen sat silent. He knew the truth now. Bernie had revealed it to him. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, the feeling of betrayal confirmed what he had just seen. “I need to go.”

  “Stephen, you have to be careful. You know people are gonna be after you.”

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry. I know who I can trust.” He walked around the counter and gave Bernie a hug before leaving.

  Stephen rode his motorcycle to the apartment, where he sent Patty a text asking her to come meet him for dinner. He explained in the text that he wasn’t able to talk at the moment, but did need to speak with her. Then he called Vincent and Alistair and explained everything. Last, he ordered pizza.

  ****

  Stephen, Vincent, Alistair, and Patty sat in the living room eating pizza. He sensed they all shared in feeling awkward. He also felt Patty’s uncertainty. Looking into Patty’s mind would have been all too easy. But he didn’t.