I’m restless. Unsure of what to do, of where to go. The whole thing hurts my feelings, and I’m uncomfortable no matter what. The cats eye me curiously, as if they’re asking me what my problem is. I finally decide to take a break, so I head for the front plot of land. Settling myself into the soft grass, I light a cigarette and beg my nerves to stabilize. It is a beautiful warm sunny day, but there’s a chill in my soul. I can’t enjoy it. I can’t find pleasure in the sun beating down on my head, because all I can think is that Greatma would have appreciated a day like this one. Once more, I feel the tears sting my eyes, and I taste the salt before I realize I’ve begun to cry. Irritated with myself and the situation, I butt out my cigarette and stand up, wiping my eyes. As I make my way back to the house, I begin to think. Thinking about the way Spring brings new life on each flower and tree. The colors in the country are incomparable. Summer brings the crops and gardens, more flowers. It wasn’t a perfect plan since she had a cell phone, but it was a start. I didn’t get a chance to check the recorder on Monday night, so I waited until she went to her exercise class on Tuesday before I got to it. It didn’t take me long to have my worst fears confirmed. His name was Soren Phillipson and he worked at the exercise place. As far as I could tell, they had been meeting about twice a week during the afternoons and this had been going on for about two months. What I didn’t know was where they met. I looked up Phillipson in the phone book and found only one S. Phillipson listed, with an address that I copied down. It looked like an apartment number, but I thought I would drive over there and find out. Sure enough, it was one of those cheap, three storey wood frame buildings with about twelve apartments. I couldn’t see any sign of Sharise’s Explorer in the parking lot, so I walked into the lobby and checked the mail boxes. S. Phillipson was in apartment 303, which I assumed.
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