MONAD 12.21.12 Read online

  MONAD

  1 2 . 2 1 . 1 2

  The Awakening

  Of

  Stella Steinar

  A Novel by T. Anderson

  www.MONAD2012.com

  MONAD 12.21.12

  Copyright © 2011, by T. Anderson.

  Cover Copyright © 2011 by T. Anderson.

  NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information contact Sunbury Press, Inc., Subsidiary Rights Dept., 2200 Market St., Camp Hill, PA 17011 USA or [email protected].

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Sunbury Press, Inc. Wholesale Dept. at (717) 254-7274 or [email protected].

  To request one of our authors for speaking engagements or book signings, please contact Sunbury Press, Inc. Publicity Dept. at [email protected].

  FIRST SUNBURY PRESS EDITION

  Printed in the United States of America

  August 2011

  ISBN 978-1-934597-63-7

  Published by:

  Sunbury Press

  Camp Hill, PA

  www.sunburypress.com

  Camp Hill, Pennsylvania USA

  A Note From the Author

  I believe certain souls have been drawn together since the beginning of our human existence. No matter the circumstances of our lives or the distance between us, nothing can keep us apart. We meet, and meet again as friends, enemies, lovers and family. We are intertwined like loops in an infinite knot.

  To all of you in my knot, thank you. Special thanks for help and support with this book:

  Bill & Lynn Byrne, Michelle Caswell, The Honorable Uncle Chad LeDuc, Corrie Gray @ ikonicimage for cover art—I’ll see you in my Jewel Tree. The Water Street Girls & The Pottery Gang, Daniel Walls, Christina Steffy, Lawrence Knorr.

  To Tycho Brahe: It was a pleasure to meet you. Without you, I would not have discovered the Star in my story. And to my soul mate Kevan: Thank you for being the strongest loop in my knot. You’ve given me so much in this life, including the ability to say I wrote this book!

  T. Anderson

  PROLOGUE

  He placed the long, thin needle meticulously on the tray with the other sterilized instruments. It had to be at least a foot long. I tried to look away, think of something else. I was about to die. Again. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. A new life was waiting for me. I was faced with many uncertainties. There were only two things that I was certain of.

  My name will always be Stella.

  And my fate will always be the same.

  1

  Tightening the Knot

  STELLA

  Her eyes dart from the half-empty water glass to me as she drops to the floor wheezing. One hand clasps her constricting throat. Her other hand claws the foot of the desk where the phone rests above, beyond reach. I sit a few feet away, unmoving, waiting for the poison to finish her. Though I’ve been planning her death for years, thoughtfully and carefully, I still feel the same. Remorseful. Empty. Gutless.

  “Stella?” she asked, waking me from my murderous fantasizing—one of the many activities I’ve often used to escape her voice.

  Of course, I could never really take her life. It’s just not my style. My thoughts drift seamlessly from killing her to other things. I’ve always wondered if she knows I’m lying.

  “Stella, you know I’m only trying to help you.” Dr. Hadrian was relentlessly persistent when it came to discussing my dreams and visions. This I knew well. I’d been withholding everything for more than four years now, giving her basically nothing. And even in this desperate final attempt, she hoped I would talk? Please! To mask my frustration, I refrained from massaging my throbbing temples.

  I wasn’t concentrating on a vision like she hoped. While struggling to stay afloat on her plush over-stuffed couch, I’ve kept my mind occupied with many distractions. Often I brood over things like why is everyone so interested in my visions? And does this mean I really am crazy? Along with why do I feel compelled to protect myself and lie about what’s happening to me?

  My parents forced me to keep my appointments with Dr. Hadrian, no matter how much I pleaded to stop. When I started hiding things, though, at least they began to ease up a little. Now they all believed my lies. I think my parents have resigned themselves to the fact that they can’t “fix” me. Sometimes I hear them discussing me in private, unaware of my eavesdropping. I hear my mother say, “Erl, it’s just pointless. It’s not working. She isn’t making progress. We’ve given her enough time already. It would have worked by now.” And my father would respond with something like, “It’s very difficult to abandon after all we’ve invested in this, Petra. She showed so much potential earlier on. I was sure it was going to work. Maybe you’re right. It’s time to let it go.”

  This part of my plan was working. The other part was not.

  I can’t stop the visions. No matter how hard I try. Daytime, nighttime, anytime. I’ve had little control over when or where they happen, but I’m working on that. Although I’m better now at hiding them, it’s becoming exhausting to keep up the facade. Luckily, I’ll be leaving soon. I’m headed for college in less than a week.

  I’m excited about the possibility of freedom in California, but also terrified that if I am completely crazy, I won’t have anyone there to keep me from the loony bin. Despite my parents’ overbearing nature—I mean, can we say “control issues”? —I do have to thank them. They adopted me when I was just a newborn. God only knows where I’d be if it hadn’t been for them. I have everything I've ever needed or wanted. And money is not an issue.

  My dad, Dr. Erling Steinar, is a scientist. He began his career working in the lab at MONAD. Now he’s the head of the northern branch, located here in Minnesota. My mother is the backbone of our household. She’s supported my father through everything. She knows almost as much as my father does about his work. Until recently, he always looked to her for advice. She left MONAD when I came along and she sacrificed her career to provide a stable and secure home for me. I always sensed the longing she had to be working instead of taking care of me…but she would never admit that to anyone. She had a mission, and that mission was me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she goes back to work when I leave. Most parents would begin thinking of retirement right about now. Mine? Well, I don’t think the word “retire” is in their vocabulary. They’re both very driven.

  “Stella. Stella? Are you listening to me?” Dr. Hadrian’s voice interrupted my daydreaming. Now, I was just thinking about school—about what it was going to be like. I could taste the freedom already. “Oh, uh sorry Doctor, I was just thinking about how much I’ll miss the winter here.” Another lie! With September just days away, I know what’s coming and I won’t miss this frozen Minnesota tundra where your breath freezes in front of your face for five months straight! “And I’m hoping it won’t be too hard to make new friends when I start school.” It sounded like a normal thing to say.

  “Well, it seems to me like you’re experiencing some typical anxieties. That’s a good thing, Stella. Our time is up. This is our last session. I want you to contact me if you have any more episodes, all right? Remember, even miles away, you’re still my patient. Keep me posted on your transition and feel free to contact me at any time.”

  “Thanks, Doctor Hadrian. Things really have been much better lately. I’ll be fine.” I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to see that all-too
enticingly comfortable office for a long time. She was sickeningly perfect, just like most of my parents’ friends and co-workers. They were all in the same social circle and it just didn’t seem right. Everywhere I looked lately, nothing seemed quite right. I was confused, paranoid maybe, but I was free. In a few short days, I would be in a new place where no one knew me. It would be a fresh start. I wouldn’t be labeled as “the crazy girl” any more. No one looking over my shoulder. No one monitoring my every move. No one questioning every little thing I do.

  Yes, I am genuinely excited about school—the academics, I mean. I’m taking behavioral studies and psychology, of all things! I want to learn how to help others like me, but I also selfishly want to try to fix myself at the same time. I know it sounds like a bad idea, but I figure I don’t have much to lose. It’s a logical major for me, and I’m literally twitching with anticipation for the first moment I can let my guard down and allow my visions to flow freely in the privacy of my own space. I’m not sure what kind of trouble I’m about to get into, but at this point, I don’t really care. Hey Berkeley, here I come!

  ARON

  Gram needed consoling. He knew something was going on. Whenever he sees a suitcase, he immediately becomes suspicious. I dug my fingers into the thick, soft hair around his ears and pressed my forehead to his, enjoying his scent. I’ll admit I like it—a cross between corn chips and old shoes. I’m a dog person. Gram is my Norwegian Elkhound. He’s been my best friend for the last eight years of my life. He never judges me. He always listens. He’s my faithful companion. I whispered in his ear, but his tail remained still, dejected.

  From my door I heard, “Aron, I know what’s going on in that head of yours. Stop worrying! You’re going to be great!” Ugh! How many times could my mother tell me that in the same day? I know I’ll only be a twenty-minute drive away. Only twenty minutes. Okay, maybe thirty or forty minutes in traffic. It’s nothing, really. Then why was I on the verge of a total nervous breakdown? I mean, I know I’m not all that independent, but now I’m an emotional mess! I’m going to miss my mom and dad so much! What am I going to do without them? Call. And text. A lot!

  “Mom, where’s my blue scarf? Didn’t you borrow it?” I was trying to get some stuff packed. School starts in a few days and I’m not even close to being organized yet.

  “Oh! Yup. I’ll go find it,” her voice trailed off as she left my room. I heard her asking herself, “Now, Cybele, where did you put that scarf?” Supportive, caring and devoted to her family, my mother is the calming voice of reason. “Gunnar!” My mother yelled from down the hall. “Have you seen Aron’s blue scarf?”

  My father is a seeker, a free spirit. He’s also a rebel. The story of how we moved from Minnesota to San Francisco is different depending on the day or who’s telling it. The last time I asked, Mom’s version was that they missed the California weather they’d grown accustomed to in college. According to my father, it was better for our spiritual growth—he thinks people in the west are more open-minded. Both of my parents fit in perfectly here and adjusted to the relaxed, west coast life without a hitch. They act and look much younger than their age and the few friends I do have think they’re “the bomb.” I kind of have to agree. I’m going to miss mother-daughter yoga on Wednesdays. I’ll miss weekend morning meditations with Dad. And I’ll definitely miss my best friend, Gram.

  Seconds later, my father magically appeared in my doorway with the scarf tossed stylishly around his neck. With a coy smirk on his face, he asked, “You mean this scarf?” My dad is a pretty handsome guy, for a dad, of course.

  As I laughed, Mom whistled and teased, “Gunnar, give your daughter back her scarf. It might look hot on you, but you did give it to her for her birthday, remember?” They have an effortless, amorous kind of love. I wondered if I would have that with someone one day. I couldn’t picture it in my head. I had enough to worry about. Bioscience was a tough major. Even if I was outgoing (which I am not!), I had absolutely no time for a social life in my immediate future. I was going for school and that was it. No fooling around. No distractions. That should be easy for me.

  My mother left the room, giggling. As my dad draped the lovely indigo silk around my neck, his eyes locked with mine and he said, “Listen to your heart, Aron, and the path will be right in front of you.” It sounded like the beginning of a Saturday meditation session that he taught, but I knew it was somehow different. This message had a deeper meaning.

  My father calls me an “old soul.” I call myself a “lonely old soul.” Even though I have Gram and the two of them, I’ve always had this dark, empty cavern deep in the pit of my gut that I don’t know how to fill. It’s like part of me is missing. I’m afraid to find out just how lonely it will be when I leave and go off on my own. Will I be strong enough to survive without them? Will I be a failure and return home, defeated? Or will I have the courage to stand up to the lonesome darkness? I must admit a part of me is hoping I’ll find something to fill the never-ending void that has consumed me since I can remember breathing. I’m ready to see what happens. I can do this.

  STELLA

  Despite its frigid, unbearable winters, Minnesota is humid and lush in the summer. But fall is the best season of all. Yes, I decided to myself, fall is the one thing I will miss. The air is cool and crisp while the sun is still shining brightly. The moon beckons through the inky cloudless night. The water in the lake retains a small reserve of heat and in the early morning you can see the steam rising off of it. Everything outside seems sleepy and peaceful, preparing for the long hibernation. The scent of the first decaying leaves on the ground is eerily predictable and comforting, while the vibrant golds and deep reds scatter about in perfect abstraction. I’m pretty sure California will be nothing like this.

  Before the loons made their morning serenade, I took my time admiring those early fall colors and tranquility as I made my way down the path from the house to the lake. My mother was sitting on the dock, wrapped snugly in her goose down comforter. I rarely see her without makeup. She looked tired and aged. I could tell she hadn’t slept much. I sat next to her on the bench and looked across the calm, flat water. It was the morning of my move. A few days before, we’d shipped some boxes to my dorm. The deal was done. It was about to happen. I hadn’t slept much last night either, but for reasons completely different than hers. I had so much to think about and my head was pulsating with a relentless dull ache that, over the last few months, had staked a claim in my brain, feeding off of the smorgasbord that was my life.

  “Stella, you don’t have to do this, you know…if you’re not ready. If you want some time to think about things. You could wait another year…a semester even.” She saw the questioning look on my face. “I’m so worried about you, your well-being, so far from home. You could always reconsider the school that accepted you here. It’s much closer and it would be so much easier for us to…help you…if you needed us.” Another pause. I decided it would be better to not say anything at this point. I knew she was gearing up for more. She hesitated before she spoke again. “I know your father hasn’t been around much lately, but I’m here, Stella. You know you’ll always be our Princess.” That’s what my father used to call me, back when I was important.

  Maybe they were actually worried. That was expected, right? Until this moment, I honestly believed that both of them had become uninterested in me since I wasn’t as much of a wacko-drama-case. They used to give me constant attention when I was younger, when I was vocal about my visions. They would drop anything and everything just to be with me. But now that I seemed more “normal,” things were changing. I was actually surprised by my mother’s last-ditch effort to keep me here. Maybe she felt obligated. A fleeting twinge of guilt passed through me.

  “Please don’t worry about me, Mother. I’m ready for this. I promise that if anything happens, I’ll be on a plane and back home in a few hours. It’s really not a big deal. You and Dad can come and visit if you want to check on me.” Oh God, did I just say
that? “And I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. That’s only like two months from now.” I said this, even though I was already busy inventing excuses why I wouldn’t be able to make it home in November. Wow! I was beginning to really like this independence thing.

  “I know, Stella. I just want to make sure you’re okay. You would tell me if you weren’t, wouldn’t you? You’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?”

  “I’m sure. I love you.” I stood and bent over her. As I wrapped my arms around the luxurious blanket, the smell of tasteful European perfume, expensive skin creams and hair products caused a sudden wave of nausea to rise in my throat. A flash of dizziness reminded me that I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. I managed to shrug it off and recover quickly.

  “I really need to get moving. My plane leaves in two hours and I don’t want to miss my connector in Minneapolis. I’ll see you upstairs?” I faked a frown and kissed her on the cheek. It was bittersweet. Was I betraying her by behaving this way inside? I couldn’t deny the instinct to question my trust with her. A voice in my head attempted to warn me, trying to assist me in my escape—from what, I didn’t know.

  I heard her sigh, long and winded, behind me. I could swear it was a sigh of relief. Or maybe it was just my chronic paranoia. I couldn’t worry about it right now. I had to keep my focus. Be on point. No time for nonsense, and especially no time for visions!

  ARON

  I was lounging in the backyard garden, swinging in the hammock, listening to Cloud Cult through my earphones, when my dad jumped into view and frightened me half to death. “Aagghh!” I flipped sideways and caught myself just before falling on my face. My dog, Gram, who was lying in the shrinking patch of evening sun, merely lifted his head to let us know we’d interrupted his late afternoon nap. He blinked once and let his head flop back down with a defiant snuffle. He was now ignoring me, clearly still upset by the packing.