It was four thirty in the afternoon on a warm summer afternoon and Kasni Vittuli was thinking about calling it a day.
She was supposed to work on her writing until five o’clock, but being an author she was her own boss and could make her own hours. When you write in an old garden shed behind your home, it doesn’t take long for the commute home.
She sat there enjoying a slight breeze wafting in through the screen door of the shed, staring at a vase of wildflowers that sat on her desk, gathering up the energy to make the trek up to the house. As her eyes rested on her unfinished manuscript, she felt a pang of guilt for stopping early. She knew she had a deadline and it had to be finished by the beginning of September. Yet, when the storyline was based on her own life, it was hard to relive all of those experiences day after day, even though she was tweaking the facts and changing scenes to make that fact less recognizable.
Why had she thought this a good idea, to base the novel on the happenings of her life? It hadn’t been easy to live through the events in the first place, why would she want to rehash the painful memories that lingered long afterward?
She pushed back her chair and stood up, going over to the screen door to look out over the yard leading to the house. The lawn stretched lush and green up to the gardens that surrounded the house, with wildflowers and roses tangling amongst the shrubs and bushes. She made an effort to begin closing the windows, but paused as the phone began to ring. She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should just let the machine pick up, but then picked it up and answered.
“Kasni?” a somewhat familiar male voice responded to her greeting. Her heart beat faster at the sound of his voice, but no, it couldn’t be, not after all of this time.
“Garan?” she questioned softly, “Garan Karl?”
“Kasni, I’m in trouble. Can you help me?”
“What is it? What has happened?”
“They put me in rehab. I’m going crazy here. I need to get out of here or I’ll lose my mind.”
“Garan, if you are in rehab it’s because it is what is best for you. I don’t want to interfere with that.”
“Kasni, I thought you would understand how this is. You are the only one who ever understood me.” His voice relayed his desperation, and sounded nothing like the confident Garan of old.
“ I don’t know about that, Garan. I’ve never understood drug use.”
“You would’ve never done this to me. Come and get me!” Suddenly the call was terminated and she was left listening to the dial tone. She had no intention of getting involved with him again, especially in this situation. But the afternoon had suddenly changed, the sunshine darkened somehow, and her comfortable life disturbed from this call out of the past. Perhaps that was what she deserved for dabbling in the past in her writing.