There was no telephone at the house on the lake. For this, Susannah was extremely glad. The lake and the surrounding woods were all she needed, telephones were man-made contraptions, invented to attempt to still the screaming emptiness inside. Susannah was a cynic. Susannah was alone. Susannah was not happy, although she had a tendency to lie to herself about that.
It was a cool spring morning. Boxes laid strewn about the house, half-unpacked. Susannah had, for the first time, awoken in her house on the lake. She walked to the window and opened it, letting the gentle breeze sweep the fresh air into the kitchen. She looked despondently upon the general disarray of the house.
“Why does starting a new life have to be so messy?”, she asked aloud to the nobody that was her company.
The birds were singing a tune never before heard by Susannah. She stopped for a moment and listened to their melody. Something stirred within her, something hard to explain. She wanted to be able to immerse herself in their song, to belong to the bigger symphony that was leading them on. She sighed and turned to the newly un-boxed coffee pot. She rummaged around the clutter to find the beans, then the grinder. Finally, she had a cup of coffee in her hand and she opened the back door to step outside onto the deck. She stood at the railing, looking at the sun's multi-faceted reflection in the water. A few geese had taken residence on it's shimmery surface and she could see a school of minnows in the shallow water near the shore.
“A boat,” she said aloud to herself. “I need a boat.”
Although she had never even thought about having a boat before, the sudden decision to acquire one did not surprise her. It seemed like the proper response to her viewing of the lake and she determined that she would drive into town that afternoon to see what buying a boat entailed.
She walked the length of the deck, the old wood creaking under her soft foot-falls. Back and forth she paced a few times, until her coffee was finished and she was left with only a beautiful morning and an empty mug. Sighing again, she re-entered the house. She had worked so hard to get here, to get this place she thought would answer everything and now she did not know how to proceed.
All her life, Susannah had worked hard, fought to get what she thought she wanted. But it was all in vain as her life slowly unraveled. She had suddenly realized what she had known all along was true. There is no getting happiness by merely existing to gain a vague sense of success. Even with a good job high up in a publishing company, Susannah was not happy. She had the unfortunate perception of sensing the emptiness in her motions, she was existing merely as a tool for her company. She fought with the management to gain a three-month hiatus and they finally, albeit reluctantly, allowed it. She had a feeling that the break was going to last far more than three months, and had actually purchased the lake house without telling a soul.
Not that there was anyone who would actually care in the long run. Susannah had friends – well, more like acquaintances -- but no one who she would really miss. And that was her own fault; she was so absorbed in her own unhappiness that she could not befriend anyone. And that was one of her deepest regrets, something that she hoped she could resolve. The community that lay just a few miles from her new house seemed like the perfect place to start a new life, and perhaps, learn what it means to know and be known by others.
Susannah went through the motions of dressing and grooming, and then begin to casually unpack a few boxes. The house did not feel like home, she did not feel like she belonged there. She had a growing feeling that she was an intruder, and the rightful inhabitant would come in any moment. The feeling grew to be unbearable and she finally had to stop placing books on what she almost was beginning to believe were someone else's shelves. She looked at the newly-hung clock. It was noon and she decided to drive into town for lunch and to see about getting a boat.
She walked to her vehicle, the day slightly warmer but not at all unpleasant. The sun hung high in the sky and the rays spread out, filtered and dispersed by the growing number of clouds. It would rain that night, or at least she hoped so. She was looking forward to seeing the raindrops elegantly pound out their rhythm on the surface of the water. She started her vehicle and slowly backed out of the driveway, listening to the sound of the gravel shifting underneath her tires.
The drive to Huntington was uneventful as Susannah drank in the sights of the rolling fields in the gentle countryside. The years of living in a steel and concrete world had taken their toll on her mind, and as she gazed across the wide open fields and rolling hills, she felt a sense of refreshment. Huntington was not a very small town, it had the usual shopping malls and chain restaurants, but it was so situated in the foothills of the mountains that it had a charming appeal. It's downtown was cultural and vibrant, and instead of competing with the attractions of nature, the city seemed to complement it. Susannah had visited it a few weeks ago, and therefore vaguely knew her way around the tree-lined streets. However, she was unsure about where exactly one could purchase a boat.
Susannah made her way downtown where she had noticed a couple of restaurants that looked appealing. She decided on an Italian place with an outdoor patio. She was quickly seated and served and she was pleased with her choice of pasta and salad. The garlic bread left a little to be desired, but she did not really care as she was absorbed in observing the people that walked the streets. There were your usual businessmen and women, quickly hurrying from one meeting to another, trying to prove to themselves and the world that they are important people. Susannah remembered that she was once part of that group and suddenly realized that she was free, no longer chained to that system. College kids in trendy clothes lackadaisically strolled by, some holding hands, each with their own destiny, own potential. Elderly couples peacefully ambled past, seemingly unaware of the fast-moving, changing world around them. Busy mothers with rambunctious children hurried by. Some kids, obviously skipping school, loudly rode their bicycles past. Everyone was so fascinating to Susannah, each person with their own thoughts and feelings and their own story.
She finished her lunch and left. She walked down the street to visit a few stores in hopes of finding a few things for the house. She wandered in out of the many little shops, picking out little knick-knacks and the like here and there. She found herself drawn into a quaint bookstore, advertising new, used and rare books. As she opened the door, the dusty smell of books long on shelves hit her. The shopkeeper was a tiny middle-aged woman with glasses almost as big as her face perched at the end of her nose. They were attached to a colorful, beaded chain that draped around the back of her neck. She wore an off-white, loose fitting button-up blouse with lace detail around the neck and sleeves paired with a long, flowing black skirt. She seemed one with the world of literature that surrounded her.
“Hello, how are you?” she said politely to Susannah as she entered.
“I'm well, thank you”, Susanna replied.
“Is there anything I can help you find?” the woman asked.
“Oh, no thanks, I'm just going to browse.”
“Alright, but feel free to let me know if you need anything! We just had someone drop by an entire box of some interested looking useds, but I've not shelved them yet. They're sitting over there by the counter, but feel free to look through them if you 'd like. Have you been in here before? You look somewhat familiar.”
“Well, no. I'm actually new in town and this is my first time stopping by”, Susannah explained.
“Oh, I'm sorry! Well, if you need help finding anything, don't hesitate to ask!”
Susannah thanked her and casually walked through the store, occasionally picking up a book and feeling its weight in her hands. Some were covered in dust and extremely old. She browsed the fiction section, the non-fiction section and then found herself in the poetry, debating on whether or not to get an gently used collection of poems by Emily Dickinson. She hesitated, then walked to the counter with the book in her hand.
“Did you find something you liked, then?” the shopkeeper asked.
Susannah answered in the affirmative and then engaged in small talk about the weather and the town with the lady, who said her name was Georgia. Georgia mentioned some points of interest that Susannah might like to visit, gave her some pointers on the best restaurants and other town-related information.
Susannah thanked her for the helpful insight, hesitated, then asked, “Do you know where I could find a boat?”
If Georgia thought that the question was odd she didn't show it, and merely answered, “Well, what kind of boat are you looking for?”
“I don't really know,” replied Susannah. “Something that would be good on a lake, I guess. Maybe something with paddles? I don't think I want to mess with anything with a motor, so I guess something like a rowboat or a canoe.”
“Hmm...”, mused Georgia. “ I know a guy down on 7th Street who sells camping and hiking supplies. He's got quite the store and I imagine he's got a boat somewhere.”
Georgia gave her directions, and Susannah told her how much she appreciated it. Georgia smiled and told her to come back anytime she had any questions and that she hoped she'd find the town to her liking.
Susannah made her way back to her car, her arms slightly burdened with her few purchases. The clouds that merely spoke of a possibility of rain in the morning now loomed with certainty. Susannah was eager to search for a boat, but reluctant to miss the rain on the lake. She decided to go back home. A cup of tea and a seat by the window overlooking the lake, Emily Dickinson in hand, sounded ideal.
Susannah parked her car in the driveway just as the rain began to fall. The gentle drops fell to the ground sporadically, but began growing in size and intensity. Susannah paused on the threshold of the back door, letting the rain soak her skin. She suddenly remembered her packages and quickly stepped inside. She put the few purchases away and started a kettle of tea. The rain drummed on the roof, a steady, rhythmic tattoo that echoed in Susannah's soul, reverberated throughout her heart. She filled her favorite mug with the hot, fragrant tea and picked up her book of poetry. As she settled into her seat by the window, she was suddenly hit with the possibilities that lay before her. She was starting a new life, she was going to carve out an existence worth the living. She might even have to get a phone, because she may end up having someone to call.
Susannah sighed, contentedly. She gazed through the window, the rain streaming down the pane. The lake seemed to come to life by the millions of tiny splashes made by the falling raindrops. She brought her cup to her mouth, breathing in the aromatic tea. She opened her book, then glanced out the window again. A smile broke forth on her face. Susannah was home.
