The Heart Stealer

Kelly Veneziano didn’t know where she was going. She just was. Her car continued to move forward, alone on the open road in the early hours of a Saturday morning. She yawned and blinked quickly a few times, telling herself to stay awake. This was it. The end. Not just of her time in Goshen, New York. It was the end of the Kelly Veneziano that people had once known. She would never be the same.

When she reached the outskirts of town, she stopped and pulled into a gas station to fill up for her long trip. Destination? She still hadn’t figured that out yet. She stopped the car and killed the engine, just sitting for a moment and taking in a few deep breaths before stepping out. The wind blew her hair around her face, and she furiously raked it back, pulling it haphazardly into a loose elastic.

She filled up the car, put the pump back. Walked over to the small building to pay. Stifling a yawn, she ordered an extra-large cup of coffee, double-strength, take-away please. The cashier handed her the Styrofoam cup, dropped the change in her open palm. “Long trip?” Kelly nodded tiredly. “Where to?”

Kelly stared, before opening her mouth to form the words, the most honest sentence of her entire life: “Anywhere but here.”

*

Phoenix, Arizona. Populated with over one million people, it’s easy for just one to disappear. The heat is suffocating, the city lost in an endless summer. It was just right for Kelly. She could get lost here.

As she drove slowly through the city, she found herself thinking that maybe she should have put together some sort of plan. But she had always been impulsive, and never really ever planned anything. This was just another quest.

It wasn’t a very good quest. It wasn’t really a quest at all. She was just running, not really knowing what it was she was looking for. But she would keep running for as long as it took. For everything to disappear, hurt less, or maybe just stop altogether.

But you can’t just ‘stop’ life. There’s no pause button. You can’t go backwards, skip forwards, or turn it off. It keeps going, whether you like it or not. Kelly didn’t like it. Not one bit. But she was just one of the millions of people in Phoenix, Arizona.

Anonymous.
And oh so insignificant.

*

The apartment was small, cramped and over-heated. Kelly wouldn’t have expected anything less. It would do. It was only temporary, after all. As was everything these days. She dragged her boxes up the stairs, through the door. Dumped them on the floor. Stood and stared at them, as if their existence was puzzling.

The apartment was empty. Even felt empty. “How fitting,” Kelly muttered to herself, nudging one of the boxes with her foot. It wasn’t nothing, and it wasn’t everything, but it was something. Sighing, Kelly sat down on the battered couch in the centre of the room, left behind by the previous tenants. She pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and opened it, pulling the ticket out.

She stared at it, wondering if she should still even go. The ticket was for the show in New York City, and it was a long drive back. Kelly didn’t know if she could face that city again. Not after what had happened, the life that had been cut short there. Kelly swallowed and shoved the ticket back in her wallet, before throwing it across the room. She would think of it another time. But not now.

Distractions were easy to find in Phoenix. Kelly left her belongings in the small apartment, locked the door behind her and pocketed the keys. She had to get out, although, that seemed that was all she was doing these days – getting out – and it hadn’t done her much good so far. She still felt the same. Broken. Empty. And more than anything else, alone.

At least the weather was good.

She walked up the street, completely oblivious to the people that pushed past her on either side. Kelly was in a world of her own and didn’t care much for others. As far as she was concerned, she was the only occupant of her world. It was a quiet, thoughtful place, where no one was really ever happy and no one ever smiled. It was depressing but also sort of comforting in the way these things sometimes are.

Kelly walked and walked. She had no destination in mind. No goal of any sort that she had to reach. She was just walking. Just because. Maybe it was her way of escaping, but in a place like Phoenix, you never really escape. You just disappear for a little while. And maybe that’s what Kelly had wanted all along.

What she found in a tiny art gallery on the west side of town, she certainly hadn’t expected. It was an insignificant place to most, dilapidated and sort of hard to find. But Kelly hadn’t missed it, for the simple reason that a series of artworks by Rebekah George were displayed in the front window. And just like that, all the walls that Kelly had built up came crumbling down in an instant.

She’d known that Rebekah had sold her artworks to a lot of people, but she’d never expected to find them here. It wasn’t exactly surprising that they’d gotten this far. Right before Rebekah had died, she was starting to make a name for herself on the art scene. She’d never meant to. At college she had been studying English Literature, but had switched majors to Visual Arts. Her parents had been furious. According to them, an artist wasn’t a “real job.” They refused to fund their daughter’s education. Kelly remembered the late nights, when she’d stay up and wait for Rebekah to get home from one of the jobs she had.

Rebekah loved drawing, and it’s what she was best at. Her parents were extremely unsupportive, but Kelly was her biggest fan. Rebekah woke up early and went to bed late, using any spare moment she had for her artworks. She had been determined to prove her parents wrong. And she had, until. Well, Kelly preferred not to think about it.

The drawings in this gallery weren’t Rebekah’s best works, but they were hers. She had drawn them with her own hands. She’d poured her heart and soul into the works, and Kelly knew right then that she had to have them. Taking in a deep breath, she walked right into the gallery in search of an employee.

“Excuse me,” she said to the lone staff member inside. “I was wondering about the artworks in the front window.” The middle-aged woman smiled widely at her. “Yes, they’ve been attracting quite a bit of attention! We often get people wandering in to ask specifically about them.” Kelly’s stomach churned. She felt sick. “I, uh, what’s the name of the artist?” Kelly stammered, knowing the answer, but a part of her believing, or maybe hoping, that it wasn’t true.

“Rebekah George,” the woman said. “Such a talented young artist! She’s really starting to make quite an impact – are you alright?” She asked when she noticed the first few tears that fell down Kelly’s face. “I’m fine,” Kelly said, swallowing nervously. “I was wondering if the works were for sale.” The woman shook her head. “They’re quite expensive. I’m not sure they’d be within your price range - ”

“I’ll take them,” Kelly cut her off. “Are you sure? They really are quite expensive and - ” “I said I’ll take them,” Kelly cut her off again, speaking through gritted teeth. The woman led Kelly into a small room at the back, where she signed a cheque and was on her way. The artworks would clear out half of her savings. She didn’t care.

Twenty minutes later, Kelly was back at her apartment with the artworks. She gathered all her things and packed them into her car again, along with the artworks. She had a new quest now. Not a stupid quest. Not a quest that wasn’t really a quest. This time it was real. She didn’t care if she had no money and it took her the rest of her life driving all over the country. She was going to find every single last artwork Rebekah had done, and get her hands on them somehow.

She owed her that much.

As she left Arizona, the sun setting in the desert behind her, Kelly rolled the windows down, and let the last of the day into the car. She put her sunglasses on and leant back in her seat, settling in for the long drive ahead. She could just imagine what Rebekah would say, if she was right there in the passenger seat beside her. “Put some music on!” She’d whine, but Kelly hadn’t listened to music in weeks. Because every song reminded her of her best friend and how much she’d loved music and she just couldn’t listen to anything without breaking down.

Kelly suddenly felt angry. Angry at Rebekah, for leaving her behind. Angry at the truck driver who had taken her away. Angry at New York City, for being too damn over-crowded and heavy with traffic. Angry at God, for letting it happen.

“Fuck you, Rebekah,” Kelly said to the empty car. “Damn you to hell.”
“Meet you there.” The voice was crystal clear, and undeniably Rebekah’s. Kelly turned to look at the passenger seat. Empty. Great, now she was going crazy.

“You’re the one that left,” Kelly said to no one, deciding to just go along with it. “You know I would have stayed if I had the choice,” Rebekah said. Kelly frantically looked around the car. Still empty. She didn’t say anything more. It was all too weird.

“Where are you going?”

Kelly was starting to freak out. Her knuckles were white from holding the steering wheel so tightly. She squinted, even behind her sunglasses, desperately trying to focus on the road ahead to distract her from the voice in her head.

“I don’t know. I’m just driving,” Kelly said through gritted teeth.

“Is this what you want?”

“The only thing I wanted was with you.”