Chapter 4

C H A P T E R  4  :  J U L I E T

The people who say you are not facing reality actually mean that you are not facing their idea of reality. Reality is above all else a variable. With a firm enough commitment, you can sometimes create a reality that did not exist before.

— Margaret Halsey, No Laughing Matter

~

“That’s Juliet Matthias and one of our girls.”

I look at her in disbelief. I pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming.

Manners are important in our family, so I know I should be more polite, but I can’t help but spout the thoughts in my head, loud and clear. “That is not possible! This is me,” I point at the girl on the left, “and that is my sister.” I can imagine what I sound like, a crazy loudspeaker spouting nonsense. But I do not care.

“Is this a joke? Is some reality TV host going to jump out?” I knew that I was telling the truth, so Sister Cecilia had to be lying. I look at her more closely. The lack of guilt in her eyes makes me doubt myself. But it can’t be, right? I know Stella is my sister. We have lived together with our parents for years before I went to pursue my career and Stella headed to boarding school.

“If you say so,” replies Sister Cecilia with a trace of a hidden smile. I was surprised at her patience, but maybe that’s a prerequisite to being a nun.

Mine, sadly, is the one virtue I lack. “I have this exact photo. I will bring it to show you.” I quickly collect my things and dump them inside my bag. “Thank you for the meeting today, Sister, but I’m afraid I have to go.”

“Yes, of course, my dear. Have a good day.”

Once I got home, the first thing I do was to look for the picture. I remember placing it in a new IKEA frame on my office desk. I dump my bag and jacket on the sofa and head to my office.

Seeing the blue frame from afar calmed my nerves. I feel relief. I flip the frame over, staring at the picture of me with Stella standing wrapped in each other's arms, smiling back at me. I exhale, for the first time realizing that I was holding my own breath. I move around the table and sit on my chair, holding the frame close to my heart.

Stella is my anchor. She’s my little sister. We always confide in each other and protect one another. As teenagers, we covered for each other’s mischief. There are so many memories of my sister floating in my mind, it makes me miss her more.

The sound of the phone ringing brings me to the present wiping my memories away. I blink a few times before reaching into my back pocket and pulling out my cell phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Julie.” It is Rachel, my editor these last few years. “How are things going? You know, with the interview and everything.”

From the way she speaks, I know it is not her talking; it is either Bob Rogers, her boss, or Clarabelle Summers, her boss’s boss. I am usually quick at writing my narrative once I have all my research in place, but somehow I feel that the materials that I’ve collected to write Toby’s story aren’t enough.

It has been two years since my last published book. I know everyone is worried. They can’t wait to sell another book. But for them it’s only about the money, for me it’s about the story. I am a perfectionist. There is no way I would let a book be published unless I feel that it’s truly finished and that I don’t need to add anything further.

Writing isn’t something that you can set a deadline on. Sometimes you can’t tell when the story will be finished, you simply know when it is. I sit every day at my desk, staring at my computer with my research all spread everywhere. Sometimes I can just write, while other times my mind is closed off, and I can’t find any inspiration. Sure, I can write about five thousand words, but I’m not feeling it. And words are nothing unless they have meanings and bring emotions.

“Julie? Julie, are you still there? Are you okay?” The panic in Rachel’s voice brings me back to reality.

I place my free hand on my forehead, rubbing my temples as my head starts to throb. “Yes, I’m here. Sorry, just lost my train of thought. It went well. Sister Cecilia was very helpful with the info. I got more details about Toby’s past and his life at the orphanage — it is getting there.”

I was starting to feel the side effects of sleep deprivation and long-distance driving. A four-hour drive back-to-back starts to surface now. I can feel how sore my back is right now.

“That’s good. I’m glad,” relief reflected in her voice. Rachel is one of those people who can’t hide her feelings from the tone of her voice.

I stifle a yawn, then lightly rub my eyes. “Hey, Rach, as much as I want to talk right now, I’m deadbeat tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah. Sure. I will tell Bob that you’re doing well and finding more info from the orphanage,” her reply tells me all I need to know. Bob should go easy on her. “Good night, Julie.”

It’s not her fault that I am having hard time trouble writing this story. It is so like him to try and push her, bastard."Good night, Rach."

I end the call and put my phone on the desk. Knowing I won’t last much longer, I stand. The picture frame drops from my lap to the floor with a thud. Oh, damn, please don’t be broken. I crouch down to pick it up and breathe a sigh of relief when I see the glass intact. Carefully, I straighten up and place it back on my desk. My hand stops when I realize the frame is empty. The photo is missing.

The heaviness of my eyelids earlier is gone. I frantically crouch down again on the floor and start looking for the photo. Doesn’t matter how many hours I spend looking for it, I can’t find it anywhere. Not on the floor, not on the desk, and not on my lap.

My body is too tired to seek answers, there’s always tomorrow. Maybe I’ll find the photo tomorrow. Maybe if I look more carefully, I’ll find it. It is probably nothing; I assure myself as I walk towards the door, I’ll find it tomorrow. I stop by the door and turn the lights out.

As soon as my head hits the mattress, I find myself being pulled into another dreamless slumber.

* * *

Dear Gentle Readers, if you are interested in reading Clarabelle Summers’ story, stay tuned to this author’s profile here in GoodNovel and subscribe to "Fuck You And All Of Your Bullshits". You can also check out Clarabelle's brothers’ stories (she has 8 brothers) in "Taming The Wild CEO" (Javier Summers), "Accidentally in Bed With The Wrong Brother" (Draven Summers), and "Tempted By The Devil" (Reed Summers). Or Clarabelle’s niece, Autumn Summers, in "The Bad Nerd Boy". Thanks a million and please do take health precautions and stay safe!