LOST
Nothing Strenuous

Stew was finishing his second helping of pancakes when he heard a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” Stew said with his mouth full. He went to the front door and opened it to see his friend, Marc, standing on the front porch.

“Good to see you walking around, Stew.”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s good to be walking around. You want to come in?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re just finishing up breakfast.”

Marc followed Stew to the kitchen and greeted his parents.

“How are you doing, Marc?” Mrs. Kasey asked.

“I’m good.”

“Would you like some coffee? I think there’s a cup’s worth left in the pot.”

“Oh, no, thanks, Mrs. Kasey. Actually, I was hoping to get Stew out of the house.”

“He just got home the other night. He doesn’t need to be out of the house just yet,” Mrs. Kasey chided.

“Mom, I can make my own decision about that. Dr. Kaufman said I couldn’t do anything strenuous. She didn’t say anything about going out. I’ll be fine.”

“Now, listen…” she started to argue but was halted by her husband who simply put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. She pursed her lips and turned her back on her son as well as her husband.

“Go ahead, Stew,” Mr. Kasey said. “Don’t be gone too long. Okay?” to which Stew nodded in agreement. “And nothing strenuous.”

“Alright, Dad. I’ll be back this afternoon. I’ll bring my cellphone.”

As Stew walked out the door, Marc paused and looked back at Stew, “What was that all about?”

“My mom doesn’t want me living in Charlotte anymore.”

“Because of what happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Where does she want you to live? Here? With them?” Stew’s only response was to raise an eyebrow. “No way! Is she going to start wiping your butt, too?”

“Marc, quiet down.”

“I’m sorry. Hey, here’s what you do—you move into my apartment building. I’ll talk to Mr. Fratelli and see if he’ll swing you a deal. You change your phone number to one that’s unlisted. Don’t give out your address to anyone. Let the newspaper know that, too.”

“Umm, they’ve already found another person.”

“What?” Marc asked in disbelief. “They gave your job away? That’s not right.”

“My mom did it. They called while I was in the coma and she told them I was moving here and not going back to work.”

“But wouldn’t you have to tell them that? Don’t you have to sign something?”

“I guess so. There’d have to be. Wouldn’t there?”

“Yes. So, when you come back to Charlotte, you go and tell them you’re not going anywhere. I’m sure they would understand that you have the lady from ‘Misery’ for a mother.”

“She’s not that bad. She’s just over-protective.”

“Okay, maybe she wouldn’t break your legs to keep you home, but she would think about it.”

“Let’s go before she comes out here and breaks your legs.”

“Where’re we going?”

“I don’t know. You wanted to get me out of the house.”

“Oh yeah. How about going downtown for awhile and then Haps for a burger and a Cheerwine? I haven’t had a Haps burger in a long… long time.”

“Sounds good. You want to see a movie afterwards?”

“Sure.”

Stew and Marc spent a couple hours browsing the shops in downtown Salisbury before stopping for lunch. They were enjoying their burgers and sodas when the barista from the coffeeshop next door recognized them as she walked by.

“Hey, fellas. I haven’t seen you two in awhile. I heard about you being attacked, Stew. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Alice. It’s good to see you.”

“Say… a few months ago, there was a guy asking about you. In fact, you had just been in here, with your parents, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, I remember. It was my birthday. Was it that guy with the dog?”

“No, he didn’t have a dog with him. He said he was a friend of yours. Did he ever replace you?”

“I’m… not sure,” Stew replied, hesitantly. “What did he look like?”

“Well, early thirties maybe. White guy. Slightly above average height. Very striking. His eyes. Wow. I,” she sighed, enjoying the memory, “don’t remember anything else.”

“Hmm… doesn’t ring a bell.”

“I didn’t tell him anything. I thought it was a little weird.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Take care, boys. I’ve got to run. Stop by sometime.”

“We will,” Stew returned. “Bye, Alice.”

As she went inside the coffeeshop, Marc turned to Stew an asked, “Who do you think it was?”

“I don’t know. Had to be someone from Salisbury that I knew.”

“Someone from school?”

“They’d be my age, not early thirties.”

“A teacher?”

“They’d be older than early thirties.”

“Maybe Alice misjudged the guy’s age.”

“Yeah, she must have. It’s still odd.”

“Maybe they found out you were famous and are trying to jump on the Stew Kasey bandwagon.”

“Dude, I’m not famous and I don’t have a bandwagon.”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet. Yeah, that’s a big yet. I don’t want to be famous. Becoming famous makes you stupid. Well… I shouldn’t say that. It’s like, ‘Here are your faults. Here are your faults on drugs and alcohol, exposed for the entire world to see. Any questions?’”

“That’s about right. Speaking of fame, what movie do you want to see?”

“Ummm… have you seen the new vampire flick yet?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. It was like 90210 with fangs.”

“We’ll just figure it out when we get there. Hey… I have an appointment in Charlotte Thursday with the Neurologist. Would you be able to take me?”

“Sure. What time?”

“I have to be there at ten-thirty.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll pick you up at nine. That’ll give us plenty of time.”

“Sounds good.”

Stew and Marc had been friends for most of their lives—ever since Stew punched Steve Trexler in the stomach in the first grade for taking Marc’s “Batman” lunchbox. No one could separate them from that point forward. In the rare instance that Stew was doing something that didn’t involve Marc and was sent to detention, Marc would purposely get himself sent to detention with him.

The two friends continued talking as they finished their lunch, laughing and reminiscing over their childhood together in small town Salisbury. When nothing was left of their meal but the paper wrapper the burgers came in and the empty fry trays, they threw the trash away, got in Marc’s car and went to the movies to take in an afternoon of cinematic escapism.