Little Black Notebooks

Vince lay on the roof outside his window gazing into the clear night's sky. Despite the light pollution of Edinburgh city, it was still possible to see the hundreds of stars that glittered above his head. He closed his eyes and invited Lena to join him, feeling the soft caress of her hair as she cuddled into his chest. The warmth of her skin and how perfectly the curvature of her body fit against his was so deeply imprinted on him that it almost felt real. Lena's essence was still very much alive inside Vince's heart. Her love had been so vibrant, so powerful, that even two years after the accident he still found it easy to imagine her next to him.

He remembered how quickly Lena would transition from sleepy-cuddly, to expressive and animated when just one exciting new thought appeared in her mind. She was forever writing endless notes of creative ideas; ranging from books to author, philosophies to share, unique perspectives, wisdoms & epiphanies, to artworks to paint. Her little black notebooks had been as important to her as he was. They were companions, somewhere that her imagination could flow freely, without fear of ridicule, negativity or the judgement of another.

From the moment he first saw Lena, Vince knew that the course of his life was about to change profoundly. The setting was a clichéd coffeeshop near the heart of Stockbridge. It was one of those charming musty places that hadn't been decorated since the 1950's. Old torn patchy wallpaper of all different styles had been hidden behind shelves of ancient yellowing books. Modern tables were offset with random chairs, each old and of a different worn pattern. Brightly coloured cushions and tens of green plants added life to what would otherwise have been an uninspired setting.

Only one seat remained untaken. She had been writing so intently that he hadn't wanted to interrupt. He tried to wait for a break in her focus before approaching, but it never came. Lena was visibly flustered by his interruption. For as much as her politeness tried to mask her annoyance, it was obvious to Vince she was frustrated to have her flow interrupted.

He recalled how her eyes sought confirmation that the coffeeshop was in fact full and that the seat opposite her was indeed the only one left. She shook her head slightly and brought her fingers to her hair, sweeping it away from her face. In the moment that she looked up and they locked eyes, the warmth of her smile revealed the immediate remorse she felt at her initial untrusting reaction. Intrigued to explore this connection and in a bid to make amens, Lena closed her notebook and gave Vince her full attention.

In mere minutes they became immersed into what Vince now knew to be her favourite conversation; how do we make the world a better place?. Time appeared to stop entirely that Sunday they spent by the window of that dusty coffeeshop. The aroma of old books and burnt coffee would forever arouse his feeling of falling deeply in love with her. She was captivating in the most charming of ways, radiating a magnetic blend of coy shyness and superb confidence that enthralled Vince.

She spoke of how her notebooks helped to organise a mountain of thoughts and ideas that would otherwise be without structure. How she had laughed when she said this. She flicked through the book pointing to pages of what looked like messy and illegible writings, doodles, asterisks and arrows connecting different paragraphs. "My version of structure." she had giggled. Trying to heal a broken world of broken people had become her life's purpose and inside that little black notebook were her answers.

Lena had known what it was to hurt. She was one of those rare humans who had suffered so much and yet managed to retain a certain innocent charm about her. For someone to have struggled alone much of her life with little support; her strength of belief in kindness, love and the inherent goodness of people was inspirational.

Vince slowly batted his eyelids open, returning to the rooftop. It was now so cold that he could see his breath form as tiny droplets of ice in the air, his tension released as a dark fog that captivated his gaze. His heart felt heavy still. In his mind, he had retraced his steps a million times yet still had no answers.

He walked the same route everyday to the coffeehouse. He had the same table as always. He had stopped into the newsagents en route back to his flat, yet he couldn't quite access part of his memory to locate the notebook. Had it been with him at that point? Or had it been left in the coffeehouse? It seemed unlikely anyone would have stolen it. It seemed unlikely he would have dropped it.

If Lena were here she would have told him not to worry or stress. She would tell him that although we don't always choose what happens to us, we can always choose how to respond. Except this seemed impossible for him to overcome. The thought that he had lost a piece of her so carelessly pained him. Not only was it one of her notebooks, but it was the final one. The last one she had ever breathed life into. Vince had spent the past two years reading through her books, looking for a project he could start with the insurance money he was given following her death. He wanted to spend the money on one of her brilliant ideas to help people.

After her funeral, Vince recalled opening her antique ottoman and counting eighty of her creative black notebooks. Each one had been journaled in, drawn on, collaged, decorated with lyrics and poetry; some hers, some quoted from others. Some pages were painted with miniature versions of her larger pieces that doned their walls. Words, ideas, plans and lists. It was all her. Every word on each page was her and a piece of her love. And he had lost her final one. The pain was so real that it felt like a fist inside his chest, squeezing tight and making it hard to breathe. It felt like losing her all over again.

For weeks Vince asked every passer by that he saw on that route to the coffeehouse. He had put up posters, spoken to local businesses and even offered £20,000 as a reward. #FindLenasNotebook had been trending on social media all week in the UK. Some European and US sites had also picked up the story. He had done everything possible to get it back, and truly believed that if someone had it, they would return it. His worst fear was that someone had put it into the bin and he would never see it again.

Months later, when the sun had finally mellowed the chilling westerly winds and the tulips bloomed red; Vince decided to release the notebook from his thoughts. As he threw open the windows in the flat, he imagined how Lena would say something wise and comforting to him now. She always found a lens of perspective that made everything seem better, even if the situation hadn't changed. Her perspective was like a warm soft blanket, taking you to a place of comfort in your mind. Vince knew it was time to accept that he would never know her final thoughts.

Startled to hear his phone ring so early, Vince pulled it from his pocket to answer. He thought the male voice sounded English, possibly London based, as he tried to tune into what was being said. The voice said he was called Bradley. Something about instagram and a coffeeshop in Edinburgh, a friend of a friend, was he still looking for it...?

As disbelief began to dissipate, Vince threw on his wool jacket , grabbed his keys and headed out the door. His smile was undeniable as he raced down the four stories of stairs to reach the street. He was heading to their coffeehouse to meet a man who claimed he had ended up in London with Lena's notebook. He had returned yesterday with the sole purpose of returning it.

Bradley was waiting with coffee and a slice of chocolate cake for each of them. Lena's notebook was also on the table in front of him when Vince arrived. Bradley quickly jumped to his feet, extending a firm handshake and a dazzling toothy smile. His marbled grey dreadlocked hair was gathered back into a rough ponytail, revealing a worn and kind face.

"Pleasure to meet you at last, Mr Vince." Bradley enthused. "Please, please sit. This is your wife's book, yeah?" He asked, gesturing to the black cover with a sympathetic smile. Vince nodded, immediately picking it up & running his hands over its thick ivory pages.

"I thought I'd never see this again."

"I'm so glad I found you and just sorry it took so long. I only saw your advert a few days back and I immediately booked the overnight train to get it to you. I was up here for work a few months back, doing a piece on city living. Grabbed coffee in here and as I leave, I see this on the street outside." Bradley gestures to the notebook. He pauses to catch Vince's gaze "I am so sorry about Lena. For your loss. What a truly beautiful soul."

"I'm a creator. An artist. I develop content for magazines, write about upcoming trends, artists to follow, music and lyrical reviews and such like. If it can change the world I want to know about it. And it seems your wife wanted to change the world."
 "She did indeed."

"Oh!" Vince hits his forehead with the palm of his hand and grimaces "I totally forgot about the reward money. Is it okay that I organise that tomorrow? I'll need to transfer..."

Bradley raises his hand gently and interrupts. "No need, my friend. I did not come for the money. In actual fact, I came to ask you to partner with me."

"Partner?" Vince repeated with confusion.

"Yes. I want us to enter a partnership together. Anyone offering such a reward for sentimental purposes has my vote.

I want us to launch the Notebook Foundation, the one Lena writes about in here" Bradley offers, gesturing the notebook.
 "Notebook Foundation?" Vince was completely thrown. "I haven't read this one yet...".

"Oh. I'm sorry. I truly hope I'm not overstepping here. It's just, the premise is genius. I figure between the two of us, your £20,000 and the same from me, we've got more than enough to start." Bradley's eyes shone. "She wrote about starting a charity that offers a safe places in deprived areas for kids to come after school. A place where we provide inspirational talks from creators, artists, writers and musicians free of charge. We provide pens, notebooks and a creative environment. We inspire and help the younger generation to begin creating the world as they want it to be. One of more love, compassion and forgiveness. More Love; that's what she wanted it to be called. 'More Love Notebook Foundation.' She even drew a logo." Bradley flicks to the correct page to show Vince his wife's script.

"We must make it a reality, it's too beautiful not to happen."

Vince took a deep breath and a minute to gather his thoughts. He smiled at Bradley, feeling himself overwhelmed with emotion and unsure what to do next. Sensing this, Bradley gestured Vince to come in for a hug. Feeling at ease with each him, and in need of the physical contact, Vince welcomed the embrace. There was something about Bradley's energy that felt much like Lena's.

The enthusiasm of a young soul perhaps?

The purity that sang from his heart as he spoke?

Whatever it was, for the second time in that very same coffeehouse, Vince knew that the course of his life was about to change profoundly.