Sequel: The Epilogue ›
A Place on My Pillow
.47
“Where do you want me to take you?” she asked him as they stood in the very center of town.
“This place,” he said, holding out a photo. It was the photo of Maria’s cross. Even though she thought of this place as a sacred, private place, she was more than willing to share it with Alex. Alex, the one person she trusted with her life.
“Come on,” she said, holding out her hand. He looked down at it as she waggled her fingers at him. He took it and allowed her to lead, walking alongside her. They said nothing as Polly lead on, humming tunelessly. Alex didn’t ask any questions and Polly didn’t try to make any excuses. They walked in perfect harmony, hands intertwined like anchors to one another. Polly takes them to the elementary school and slows as they cross the playground.
“I’ve been coming here for a while now,” she explained, walking along the chain link fence that ran parallel to the creek. The creek was drier than the last time, but that was probably because of the dry, hot weather as of late. She ran her free hand along the fence until it was interrupted by the wooden bridge.
“What’s so special about it?” Alex asked. If it had come from anyone else, she would be insulted and feel like they didn’t understand. But it was Alex. He cared. He truly was curious. He wanted to know why she was so attached to this place that she had over a hundred photographs of the same trees, the same cross, the same oval-shaped clearing.
“It’s peaceful. It’s just me and Maria there. No one bothers us. No one expects anything from us.”
“Maria,” Alex said softly.
“Yeah. That’s whose name is painted on the cross. Maria Dolores Power.”
“I knew her. Or, well, I knew of her. She was a sweet girl. She died in a hit and run about ten years ago.”
“How old was she?” Polly asked sadly.
“I don’t know. Couldn’t have been more than 11.”
This knocks the wind out of Polly and she has to stop on the other side of the bridge. Alex doesn’t say anything. She’s grateful.
“That’s so sad,” she whispers. Alex does, however, gather the blonde girl into his arms and lets her cling to him. This is what he loves most about Polly. It’s her ability to care about a girl that she never met. She must feel some sort of connection to the girl through the clearing, he think.
“You don’t have to take me there, if you want it to just be between Maria and you.”
“No. I need to share this with someone. Especially now.”
He nodded and they detached from one another. They didn’t hold hands this time as Polly hiked up the hill, Alex in tow. She split off from the trail and headed into the woods. Alex followed behind loyally. Finally, she pushed some of the foliage out of the way and they were in the clearing, a spot so beautiful that the photographs didn’t even compare to it. Alex let out an audible gasp as he walked around the perimeter, hugging the tree line. He was afraid to disturb the perfect, serene setting that lay around him. This was Polly’s secret place. He couldn’t soil it in any way. He watched as Polly sat down in front of the cross and tossed the name painted on it.
Maria Dolores Power.
“She had nightmares,” Alex said, kneeling beside his friend.
“What?”
“Maria, she used to have nightmares. I remember that much. She was kidnapped as a toddler and ever since then, she’d had nightmares every night. The doctors tried to give her all kinds of treatments and drugs. None of it really worked. But, when she died, everyone had this candlelight vigil thing at the school. We all said goodnight and sweet dreams to her,” Alex explained.
“Nightmares,” Polly mumbled, tracing Sweet dreams with her pointer finger. The pair fell silent as this new information hit the younger of the two. “She would’ve been my age then.”
“What?”
“You said she was 11 when she died 10 years ago.”
“I did.”
“Then she would’ve been 21. We would’ve been the same age.”
Alex nodded solemnly and replied, “I suppose you’re right.”
“I wonder what she would’ve been like.”
This causes the pair to sink away from one another, and just sit, thinking about the woman that Maria could’ve been. She could’ve been a painter, or a baker. She could’ve become the first woman president of the United States. She could’ve been a writer who wove tales together intricately that it brought the reader to tears with her talent. She could’ve cured cancer. She could’ve been a housewife who raised 3 kids, all with her eyes, and she could’ve been a spinster. She could’ve sang songs that saved lives or she could’ve just worked at a minimum wage job for the rest of her life, just barely scraping by. She no long had any of these options. She was dead, long gone and buried in a cemetery. Her family must’ve grieved as Josh’s had, Polly thought bitterly. Whoever did this to Maria’s family, and more importantly Maria herself, deserved the lowest level of hell imaginable. The more she thought of it, the more the anger boiled inside of her. She rose to her feet, grabbed the nearest fallen tree branch and smashed it against a tree trunk.
Alex stared, alarmed at Polly’s sudden anger. He let her smash things, glancing wearily at the cross, worried that Maria’s wooden monument would be next. But it doesn’t fall victim as Polly finally falls to her knees, crumpling as she puts her face in her hands. Alex can just barely hear her soft sobs.
He gets up and walks to her, sitting with her. She doesn’t curl into him as she normally would, but she does lean into his touch as Alex drapes his arm over her shoulders.
“How could they? Just leave her there to die?” she sobbed, finally collapsing into Alex. He let her cry into his chest, her make-up mixing with her tears and leaving wet marks on his shirt. He didn’t care. Here was his best friend, crying into him over a girl she’d never met. She never ceased to amaze him.
“I don’t know, Polls. I really don’t know.”
“Did they ever catch the bastard?” she asked a while later after she’d calmed down a slight bit. She hiccupped and clung to the fabric of Alex’s shirt.
“No,” he replied reluctantly. This didn’t send her into another fit of sobs like he expected. She merely shook her head and looked up at him. He brushed the hair away from her face.
“Thank you, Lex,” she whispered and somehow, a few moments later, she’s asleep in his arms. She was an amazing creature, taking him by surprise every day.
“This place,” he said, holding out a photo. It was the photo of Maria’s cross. Even though she thought of this place as a sacred, private place, she was more than willing to share it with Alex. Alex, the one person she trusted with her life.
“Come on,” she said, holding out her hand. He looked down at it as she waggled her fingers at him. He took it and allowed her to lead, walking alongside her. They said nothing as Polly lead on, humming tunelessly. Alex didn’t ask any questions and Polly didn’t try to make any excuses. They walked in perfect harmony, hands intertwined like anchors to one another. Polly takes them to the elementary school and slows as they cross the playground.
“I’ve been coming here for a while now,” she explained, walking along the chain link fence that ran parallel to the creek. The creek was drier than the last time, but that was probably because of the dry, hot weather as of late. She ran her free hand along the fence until it was interrupted by the wooden bridge.
“What’s so special about it?” Alex asked. If it had come from anyone else, she would be insulted and feel like they didn’t understand. But it was Alex. He cared. He truly was curious. He wanted to know why she was so attached to this place that she had over a hundred photographs of the same trees, the same cross, the same oval-shaped clearing.
“It’s peaceful. It’s just me and Maria there. No one bothers us. No one expects anything from us.”
“Maria,” Alex said softly.
“Yeah. That’s whose name is painted on the cross. Maria Dolores Power.”
“I knew her. Or, well, I knew of her. She was a sweet girl. She died in a hit and run about ten years ago.”
“How old was she?” Polly asked sadly.
“I don’t know. Couldn’t have been more than 11.”
This knocks the wind out of Polly and she has to stop on the other side of the bridge. Alex doesn’t say anything. She’s grateful.
“That’s so sad,” she whispers. Alex does, however, gather the blonde girl into his arms and lets her cling to him. This is what he loves most about Polly. It’s her ability to care about a girl that she never met. She must feel some sort of connection to the girl through the clearing, he think.
“You don’t have to take me there, if you want it to just be between Maria and you.”
“No. I need to share this with someone. Especially now.”
He nodded and they detached from one another. They didn’t hold hands this time as Polly hiked up the hill, Alex in tow. She split off from the trail and headed into the woods. Alex followed behind loyally. Finally, she pushed some of the foliage out of the way and they were in the clearing, a spot so beautiful that the photographs didn’t even compare to it. Alex let out an audible gasp as he walked around the perimeter, hugging the tree line. He was afraid to disturb the perfect, serene setting that lay around him. This was Polly’s secret place. He couldn’t soil it in any way. He watched as Polly sat down in front of the cross and tossed the name painted on it.
Maria Dolores Power.
“She had nightmares,” Alex said, kneeling beside his friend.
“What?”
“Maria, she used to have nightmares. I remember that much. She was kidnapped as a toddler and ever since then, she’d had nightmares every night. The doctors tried to give her all kinds of treatments and drugs. None of it really worked. But, when she died, everyone had this candlelight vigil thing at the school. We all said goodnight and sweet dreams to her,” Alex explained.
“Nightmares,” Polly mumbled, tracing Sweet dreams with her pointer finger. The pair fell silent as this new information hit the younger of the two. “She would’ve been my age then.”
“What?”
“You said she was 11 when she died 10 years ago.”
“I did.”
“Then she would’ve been 21. We would’ve been the same age.”
Alex nodded solemnly and replied, “I suppose you’re right.”
“I wonder what she would’ve been like.”
This causes the pair to sink away from one another, and just sit, thinking about the woman that Maria could’ve been. She could’ve been a painter, or a baker. She could’ve become the first woman president of the United States. She could’ve been a writer who wove tales together intricately that it brought the reader to tears with her talent. She could’ve cured cancer. She could’ve been a housewife who raised 3 kids, all with her eyes, and she could’ve been a spinster. She could’ve sang songs that saved lives or she could’ve just worked at a minimum wage job for the rest of her life, just barely scraping by. She no long had any of these options. She was dead, long gone and buried in a cemetery. Her family must’ve grieved as Josh’s had, Polly thought bitterly. Whoever did this to Maria’s family, and more importantly Maria herself, deserved the lowest level of hell imaginable. The more she thought of it, the more the anger boiled inside of her. She rose to her feet, grabbed the nearest fallen tree branch and smashed it against a tree trunk.
Alex stared, alarmed at Polly’s sudden anger. He let her smash things, glancing wearily at the cross, worried that Maria’s wooden monument would be next. But it doesn’t fall victim as Polly finally falls to her knees, crumpling as she puts her face in her hands. Alex can just barely hear her soft sobs.
He gets up and walks to her, sitting with her. She doesn’t curl into him as she normally would, but she does lean into his touch as Alex drapes his arm over her shoulders.
“How could they? Just leave her there to die?” she sobbed, finally collapsing into Alex. He let her cry into his chest, her make-up mixing with her tears and leaving wet marks on his shirt. He didn’t care. Here was his best friend, crying into him over a girl she’d never met. She never ceased to amaze him.
“I don’t know, Polls. I really don’t know.”
“Did they ever catch the bastard?” she asked a while later after she’d calmed down a slight bit. She hiccupped and clung to the fabric of Alex’s shirt.
“No,” he replied reluctantly. This didn’t send her into another fit of sobs like he expected. She merely shook her head and looked up at him. He brushed the hair away from her face.
“Thank you, Lex,” she whispered and somehow, a few moments later, she’s asleep in his arms. She was an amazing creature, taking him by surprise every day.