"Karen?" I'm half asleep when she calls. A quick glance at the clock tells me that it's 4am, and my mind starts to race. Karen has never in her life called me at 4am.
"Thank God you answered." She sounds tired and a little shaky, and I struggle to understand what she's saying in my groggy state.
"What? What's going on?" I'm suddenly wide awake, sitting straight up.
"Look, I'm sorry."
My concern overrides all of the hurt. Two years. Two years since she disappeared. I called and showed up and harassed everyone I knew to harass. Two fucking years she's hidden. There was something about Paris at one point, but no one would say anything, even if they knew.
"Where the fuck did she go?" The anger creeps back as I think about the hell of the last two years. I try to suppress it, knowing that getting into a screaming match with Karen won't bring me any closer to finding Stevie.
"We're in Italy."
"What?"
"Venice."
"Why are you in Venice?"
"Lindsey, Brie is worried. I'm worried. She hasn't done well with this."
"She lost her husband."
"Two years ago! And she's... listen, this may be a lot to ask, but we need you."
"What?" I know I much sound like a moron, but what am I supposed to do? She's saying words but I can't even make sense of them. Go to Venice? What the hell is she saying?
"Listen, if you love her at all, you'll listen to me."
"Now you're going to play the love card? You realize it's been two years? TWO FUCKING YEARS!" I yell, seriously aggravated. "You all shut me out after I did everything I could for her, after..."
"Lindsey, look," she cuts me off before I get too far into my rant. "She didn't want to see you. What did you want me to do? I'm not going to get into this right now. She needs you and you should be here, and there's a flight to Venice in two hours out of LAX. I already booked it for you. Go get on the fucking plane and I'll meet you at the airport."
Venice? What the hell is she doing? I throw myself backward on to the bed, covering my face with my hands, all of the emotions I'd been battling for the last two years flooding through me. I hadn't seen her since his funeral. She was so wrecked, and I felt like my heart was being stomped on. All I could do was hold her that night. Nothing I could say would make it better. Then she fucking left. Now I'm supposed to fly across the world and pick up the pieces? God damn it.
Next thing I know I'm packing a suitcase. What is it about her that makes me to stupid things? Stevie leaves. I love her with everything I am, but every time she can't handle something she disappears. It's like dying over and over again - like having a vital organ tear itself from your body and wander away, not bothering to sew up the gaping wound it leaves behind. That's what loving Stevie is like. But, ultimately, she's as critical to my existence as my lungs or heart, and I know that I need to go. I need her to be okay.
The 15 hour flight is brutal. Even with exhaustion and sleeping pills I don't get any rest, and I arrive in Venice at 6am. Karen looks like she rolled out of bed when she greets me, giving me a loaded smile and holding onto me. I didn't expect any warmth from her, at least not now.
"Thank you, Lindsey," she whispers as she holds onto me, and I can hear the tears in her voice.
"What's wrong with her, Karen?"
"I wish I knew. She never even talks anymore. She won't leave the house. She's too thin. Even Brie can't get through to her - she missed her graduation, Linds."
"She clearly wants nothing to do with me, Karen. I'm not sure why you think that an out of the blue visit from halfway across the world is suddenly going to snap her out of whatever funk she's in."
"This isn't just a funk. I've never seen her like this."
"What do you think I'm going to be able to do?"
"I don't know, Lindsey. You just get through to her sometimes," she says vaguely. I follow her through the street, kind of grateful to be in a place where I can wander around without being stared at. I follow her through the streets until she leads me into a tall, narrow building by the water. After a series of creaky wooden stairs, I'm standing in a stunning room with floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the sea.
It looks like Stevie, but I notice a lack of photos. Stevie always surrounded herself with photos. Memories. She was trying to forget. Karen brings me a glass of water, and I nod my thanks. I hang around the house, dozing for a while. Eventually, Karen comes back out and we occupy ourselves silently.
"She's still asleep."
"It's almost 3pm."
"Yeah well, she's always been up a noon on a good day. You know her better than that, Buckingham."
"Where is she?"
"She's right here," I hear a familiar voice say, and my attention immediately jumps to the doorway.
