Baggage Left Behind

It was hot. Unusually hot.

The street was bustling with people milling around everywhere. It was a typical sight for a weekend, the welcome morning heat though was anything but typical. Everyone was taking advantage to thaw out from the winter blues. Girls were in shorts and light summer dresses that moved freely as they walked. The boys wore light cotton shirts with arms bare. The mood was “suns out guns out”. Friends were catching up and wandering in and out of the shops. Couples walked hand in hand, trying to keep enough distance for the air to flow between them while still remaining close.

Ronnie sat on the bench outside a café waiting. In her hands was the book, Atlas Shrugged. She had wanted to read this book for years and had stumbled across a copy in her favourite second hand book store. Now she was struggling through it. A solid dent had been made. Yet to fully understand Rand’s philosophy, Ronnie was constantly having to re-read sentences.

Ronnie looked up and saw him walking towards her. They hadn’t seen each other in years and she wasn’t even sure if she would recognise him. How Ronnie had thought that she didn’t know. He hadn’t changed that much, still held himself upright with the same self-confidence he had had when they first met. Though now he was more muscular and had grown into his features. He no longer looked like a young boy pretending to be a man. He was a man. Strong, assured, more confident, if that was even possible. Ronnie’s breath caught in her chest. What a fool she had been to think she could handle this. She thought that enough time had passed and the feelings would remain dormant. He had and would always make her feel this way. He now stood directly in front of her. She stood up to greet him. Folding into him as they hugged, Ronnie drank in as much as possible. Soaking it right into her very core knowing it would then be a slow painful process to extract it from herself afterwards.

“Americano black, right?” he asked.

“uh, yes thanks” she replied, somewhat taken aback that he remembered.

She went to sit down and he ordered the coffees just like it had always been. There had been this unspoken rule between them. First round was on him and she picked up the second. Balance, an equal footing. She never felt that it had required a conversation, it had just happened organically.

“How are you finding Rand? Personally, I could never get into the book enough to see it through” He asked sitting down.

“I’m quite enjoying it. I like the fact that Dagny is such a strong character and the way Rand is trying to show the pitfalls and wrangling’s of a political system. While also through the fiction portray her philosophy of Objectivism. I like the emphasis Rand places on the mind and it being of the utmost value. To constantly push the limit, to create, to think, to question. It makes me think and question my own political standing…kind of… to an extent” Ronnie hesitantly replied.

He laughed at her comment of a strong female, “Of course that is what you would pick up on and enjoy the most” he said.

He did not intend to deliver his comment in a scathing tone, instead recognising a strong minded female. Just like that they were back to discussing their thoughts and opinions. Questioning each other. Provoking more thought or cementing their individual opinion. It was as if mere days had passed since their last meeting, not 10 years and a lifetime.

Immediately it all came flooding back to her; the confusion, the hurt, the wanting. Ronnie knew deep down that she wasn’t going to repeat the same mistake and that by meeting him she was playing with fire. She should not have reached out to him after reading his name in the paper two weeks ago. But Ronnie had wanted so much to see him again; to have the discussions, to be challenged. Although now, in his presence she wished she had not put herself in such a position for the old wounds to be laid bare. She had accepted, had healed, raged against her fate, and then finally come to peace with their past. With all sincerity in her heart Ronnie had been able to say thank you for the lesson and wish him well. Now she felt every wound exposed and aching.

“Well shit!” she thought, the sinking feeling which had started to develop expanded more and more until she felt leaden and heavy.

“Bloody hell!! Is that the time?” he exclaimed with a start catching sight of the clock on the wall behind the register. He kept talking as he manically extracted himself from the table. “Ronnie, I’m so sorry but I have to run. I don’t know what it is, but I always loose track of time when I am with you and I’m now very close to being late back to base. We should catch up again though the next time I am free!”

Standing up with him but not making the same movements to leave, “Oh, um of course. Don’t worry” stammered Ronnie, knowing full well it was unlikely they would ever see each other again. He stopped for half a second to look right at Ronnie then turned and walked out leaving her reeling in his wake. She fell back into her chair dishevelled and aching for something stronger than coffee.

Gathering herself together she moved out from behind the table. Ronnie was about to leave when a small black notebook wedged into the seat of his now vacant chair caught her eye. “Do not pick it up!” screamed her inner logic. “It might not even be his” she tried to rationalise, “it could be anyone’s. The person who sat there before us. There is no guarantee that it is his.” “You stupid woman” she cursed herself sliding the book into her bag.

By the time she was home in her small apartment she was completely resigned to the fact that she had done this all to herself.

“Well shit!” She sighed and flopped down onto the lumpy armchair in the corner of the room.

It was Ronnie’s favourite area of the flat, her spot to contemplate and think. Some people do their finest thinking in the kitchen and some on the toilet; for Ronnie it was this corner of the flat. It just so happened to also be on the armchair he had spotted at the only antique auction they had gone to together.

As she sat on the armchair right then and there with the presence of the notebook burning into her mind, she committed herself to putting away thoughts of their past once and for all. She scolded herself for being so stupid and thought of Dagny and Scarlett O’Hara. Feeling that she was also making her own statement of strength, her own ‘as God is my witness’ moment. She stood up, made her way to the kitchen and poured a shot of bourbon. Wandering back to the chair she took stock of herself, her afternoon and her final complete resolve. Ronnie looked around the room taking in her surroundings, really observing every detail trying to dispel the ever-growing thought of the notebook. She did love that corner but she did also despise just how lumpy the armchair was. Every turn of her mind kept coming back to that damn book. She should just throw it away and be done with the whole foul situation. Back and forth she passed, jumping from utter disgust with the chair to a maddening curiosity with the book. Ronnie suddenly felt exhausted, downed the remaining bourbon and called quits on the day.

A couple of days went by and whenever she came into the front room, she felt the spikes of irritation drive slowly deeper and deeper, into her very core. Her movements emanating from an ever-increasing restlessness and discontentment. The notebook had remained on the chair since that evening. Now the two objects were interlinked with each other, both representing the friction she felt. She had neither opened the book nor sat back on the chair.

The beast of discontentment was unfurling within her, like a dark ugly mass coursing through her veins. She had had enough. Wading forth to do battle she picked the notebook up and opened it. She was shocked to find the pages were covered in personal thoughts and musings and atop each page was the date and her name. It was years of his thoughts that were addressed to her. As if he was constantly discussing his actions with her and how he felt about them. Questioning and wondering what was she doing and where she was? More and more as she read on, his written words overwhelmed her. Why hadn’t he reached out? Why hadn’t he told her? What does this now mean? Furious and upset she flung the notebook across the room. In anguish she thrashed at the chair.

Pulling at the tacks holding the linen in place, Ronnie attacked the arms of the chair yanking more and more material way. Stripping it back as far as she could take it, exposing the bones of the arms. It felt wonderful. Moving from the now naked arms to the back of the chair. The material kept falling away turning into an ever-increasing mound on the floor. Just then, as a particularly large strip of fabric tore free a faded $100 bill fluttered to the floor. It was positively the last thing Ronnie expected to happen. So caught up in her rage, she took a moment to realise what was lying on the floor. Her moment of pause was shattered. Continuing to pull material from the chair but now with more caution than her previous reckless abandon.

Ronnie sat with her back to the wall. The chair’s skeleton bare and ready for a new lease of life, the unbridled opportunities endless. $20,000 glared in front of Ronnie, right between the decaying past and the protentional of the new.

What an absolute mess. She had literally been sitting on $20,000 for years. Her rage returned and seemed to double in strength. If she hadn’t met up with him, she wouldn’t have awoken the beast and wouldn’t have attacked the chair. Why him? Why now? Why could she not extract him from herself? As if he was imprinted on her very being. She let out a groan like a wounded animal; deep and full of pain. Apart from putting herself in this situation hers was not a bad life. She wasn’t hard up or in desperate need of the cash. Sure, it would be fun to make use of some of it for a road trip across Europe or to buy herself a new pair of heels. Resignation was washing over her and she crumpled to the floor completely beaten. She didn’t need the cash and knew there were others who could do more with it. Was it even hers to be contemplating distributing? She no longer knew where to stand. Peeling herself up off the floor she turned out of the room and out of the flat.

Later returning to the flat, Ronnie bagged up the old material from the floor and divided the cash into four equal piles. Combining two piles into one, she placed it in one envelope and wrote ‘Woman’s Refuge’ on the outside. Another pile she placed it in a second envelope labelled ‘Veterans’. Retrieving the notebook from the other side of the room she slotted it into a third envelope with an address on the front. With the three envelopes stored in her string bag Ronnie walked out of the flat. A straight back, shoulders squared; her jaw set with purpose and resolute!