“Feel any better?” Michael asked when she reached the landing.
“Yes.”
“Why do you have that?” he asked, motioning to the music box.
“I’m getting rid of it. I don’t want it. The crazy guy mentioned this, too. I think he was the one who left it here.”
“Are you going to throw it away?”
Josie considered the question for a moment. “No, not yet. I’ll put it back in the box in this closet. It seems really old, it’s beautiful, perhaps it’s a keepsake. He might be crazy, but I’d feel bad tossing it in case it belongs to someone.”
“Here,” Michael said, approaching her, “Let’s put it up on the shelf. It will be out of the way.” They packed it in the box and Josie watched Michael push it back on the shelf in the closet.
As he shoved it as far back as he was able, Damien came in through the front door. “Hey guys,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Just putting that stupid music box away,” Josie said, arms crossed.
“I thought you liked it?” he asked, shedding his messenger bag and shoes.
“She did until she found out it came from a crazy stalker who attacked her today,” Michael chimed in, closing the closet door.
“What?” Damien stopped dead from removing his second shoe in shock.
“I wasn’t attacked. Some crazy guy was just talking nonsense at the office supply store. He was the same guy who caught me when I fainted at the mall. He was at the office store and was just saying crazy stuff to me.”
“Like what?” Damien asked.
“Like I need to remember who I am and he can help me and on and on, weird stuff.”
“And he grabbed hold of her and mentioned her nightmares and the music box,” Michael added, “so we know who brought this to the door and we know he’s not only been here at the house but in two other places she’s been. So, he’s stalking her and he could be violent.”
“Really, Michael? Violent? That’s quite a leap,” Josie said.
“Josie, you were shaking when you got home, don’t write this off.”
“I’m not writing it off. I’m just saying he might be unbalanced but not unhinged.”
“Did you call the police?” Damien asked.
Michael crossed his arms in frustration. “Nope, tried to, she didn’t want to,” Michael said. “But I’m insisting that she not be anywhere alone, including here as much as possible, until we know more or this guy crawls back under whatever rock he came from.”
“I agreed to that, yes,” Josie said.
“Yeah, sounds like a plan. I agree we should not leave you alone. But, are you sure we shouldn’t call the police, Jos?” Damien prodded.
“If he shows up again, we will. For now, I’d rather not,” Josie explained.
“Reason?” Damien asked, now removing his second shoe.
“I don’t know. I just, I don’t think he’s dangerous. He seemed kind of…” Josie paused. “Sad, I guess.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “He’s crazy,” he mouthed to Damien.
“I saw that. Let’s drop it. I’m going to order my supplies that I didn’t get when I ran out of the store.”
Josie made her way to the couch and set up shop, retrieving her list and creating her order. She did everything possible to keep the incident off her mind for the remainder of the day and evening. As bedtime approached, she was reluctant to go to bed. An uneasy pall hung over her and she was sure as soon as she laid down her mind would dwell on the incident.
Damien knew her well enough to sense her hesitance and asked if she’d prefer him to camp out with his favorite air mattress in her room. Josie loved how he could sense her moods and told him that she would appreciate that gesture very much.
Even with Damien so close, sleep escaped Josie. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the man, remembered the wild look in his eyes as he begged her to remember, felt his hands grasping her shoulders, heard his voice, feverish by the end. Each time she would snap her eyes open to make sure she was still safely tucked in her bedroom. Sometimes she peered over the edge of the bed to check that Damien was still there.
After hours of fretting, she dozed off, sleeping restlessly, dreaming of the incident with the man, the music box, and a woman named Celine. She walked through the office store, but the aisles became winding tunnels and she became lost. The man appeared begging her to remember her true self. Somewhere the music box played, and she followed its sound. She wound through passage after passage, finding it playing on top of a shelf. She approached it and found a mirror behind it. She looked at the mirror and saw her reflection. But yet, it wasn’t her reflection. “No,” the reflection said, “I am your true self. I am Celine.”
Josie jolted awake, disturbed by the dream. She concluded that trying to sleep was useless. She rose from the bed and donned her robe. Tiptoeing out of the room, she made her way downstairs. She hoped some television would help distract her mind enough to fall asleep.
She flipped through the choices on her streaming network and settled for re-watching a comedy series. The show did little to distract her, only providing background noise for the questions churning in her mind. How did the man even find her? Why did he think she was Celine? Who was he? How did he know about her nightmares? Why did he give her the music box and what did it mean? Was it Celine’s music box? Who was Celine? The questions would not cease racing across her mind.
Her thoughts converged on the music box.
