Finding Mitty.

Chapter 7: Schrödinger's Dad.

Schrödinger's cat: a cat, a flask of poison, and a radioactive source are placed in a sealed box. If an internal monitor detects radioactivity (i.e. a single atom decaying), the flask is shattered, releasing the poison that kills the cat. The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics implies that after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead. Yet, when one looks in the box, one sees the cat either alive or dead, not both alive and dead. This poses the question of when exactly quantum superposition ends and reality collapses into one possibility or the other.

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The sound of the intercom cut off my unremitting train of thoughts about what exactly my mom intended to tell me that she didn't want my sister to know. I got up from the sofa on which I was previously lying horizontally like at some shrink's office. I walked to the door and buzzed my visitor in silently because I already knew who he was. Then I went to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee, my fourth one today, and it wasn't even noon. It wasn't the after effect of the death of a loved one but feeling lost that was eating away my attention. I couldn't sleep, but I wasn't really awake either. It was a state of perpetual limbo. I might as well have been a lamppost.

The door opened and Todd stood there looking at me with his pug eyes. He came inside and hugged me tightly, so much that my head was almost buried completely in his curly hair, the ludicrous smell of coconut shampoo filling my nostrils and almost suffocating me.

"You okay dude?" He asked as I pulled away.

"Yeah. I've accepted it." I said nodding. I had. I had accepted that she was gone, it was numbing, but I didn't know what else to do.

"How's Odessa? Where is she?"

"She's inside, sleeping. I didn't wanna leave her alone for a while. She's more rattled than anyone else." I told him as we sat on the small round dining table I'd bought from pottery barn.

Almost all my essential furniture was from pottery barn, and then some. I looked around my apartment as I poured Todd some coffee, it was a small apartment, but it was still big by New York standards, and it was filled with what Hernando liked to call "unnecessary stuff".  I used to love all my stuff. It was supposed to be a reflection of me. The apothecary coffee table, all my Chinese lamps, the little Buddha and Samurai statues, the zen paintings I bought online, the Justice League themed pillow set, etc. all supposed to bring peace and comfort to my home. But now I was realising what Hernando meant. All this stuff, it wasn't helping me through my loss, but my friends were. I'd realised that I was just another slave of consumerism, believing all the stupid crap the Television threw at me. All I craved for right now were my friends and my family, my real home, where I had so many good memories. That looked like my only salvation right now.

"So w-when's the funeral?" Todd asked sipping his coffee. I'd zoned out again.

"Saturday. You know, I'm thinking of going back to St. Louis after that, after the funeral."

"Oh. For how long?"

"I don't know. I just need to go back. And I'll take Odessa too; it'll be good for us."

"But what about your work Walter?"

"Oh to hell with my work! I'll take some sick days. I don't like that boring job anyway!!"