Chapter One

The Story Collector

It was a year of change for me, the year that she came. Now, I’m not one for change, I never have been. I like to have things a very specific way, done just how I want them to be done. Generally, that’s how my life has always been. My parents bred me to be a businessman, just like my father and his father before him. Before she came I’d never really thought of myself as anything else. Why should I? I had money, I had a great job, and as far as I knew, I was happy.
She would later tell me that happiness is something that can’t be measured in any real way. To be happy, she said, is something of the moment; for to experience all ranges of emotions is to truly live. Living is what is most important in this world. I didn’t understand it when she said it, but that was her philosophy. What was even stranger was my desire to understand. I wanted more than anything to understand her, to understand why she was the way she was.
Well, don’t let me bore you. Like most things in this world, time is money, right? Anyway, there’s no better way to start this than to start from the beginning. I was 29 at the time, only a few weeks from my birthday. It was a Friday night and my friends had all gone out. For some reason I didn’t want to go. Most of them were married anyway, and the only reason any guy wants to go drinking is to piss off his wife. I didn’t feel like hearing them bitch about their spouses, so I told them I didn’t feel well. Later that night, maybe around nine, I decided I did want to go somewhere. I ended up choosing a local family diner that was fifties themed. After ordering a burger and basking in my own self-pity, I happened to glance over at the table next to me.
That’s when I saw her. She looked like an ordinary woman. Perhaps in her early twenties, she had long, honey blonde hair and auburn eyes. The irony of such a classic-looking woman in a fifties style restaurant did not evade me, but then I began to look closer. Next to her sat a yellow backpack and a green carry-on. Maybe she was traveling? She might have even been new in town. I thought to myself about how I had just spent the last few hours envying my married friends and took a deep breath. I decided I would talk to her.
“Hi there.” I said, awkwardly. I wasn’t used to initiating conversation. She looked up from the newspaper she was reading and smiled.
“Hello.” She replied.
“You look like you’re new here.” I said, pointing at her bags. “Are you from out of town?”
“I guess you could say that.” She said. “I’ve never been to Seattle before.”
“Well,” I said, pleased with myself that I was right. “It’s a beautiful city. You know, besides the rain.”
“I had heard about that.” She said, nodding.
“Where do you come from?”
“Nowhere.” She said.
I laughed. “Yeah, I feel like that too sometimes. I’m from L.A but I don’t like to talk about it.”
She nodded, but didn’t laugh. At first I wondered if I had said something wrong, but then she said, “Why don’t you sit down?”
I gladly accepted the offer. Taking a moment to collect myself, I looked down at the newspaper she was looking at and frowned. The page was open to the obituaries. Shrugging to myself I reasoned that she had meant to turn to another page. Why would anyone look at the obituaries?
“So you’re from L.A?” she asked. “What brought you to Seattle?”
“Well, work, to be honest.” I said, shrugging. “After I graduated from college I got a job with a corporate office that produces parts for computers. Shortly after they promoted me and wanted me to go to the Seattle office.”
“So you’re a businessman.” She said. “How interesting.”
I paused, struck by the tone in her voice. The phrase ‘how interesting’ was one I had never heard except with sarcasm or fake interest. I had been on many dates where the phrase ‘how interesting’ was used. Yet she said it with a tone that indicated nothing more than what the simple phrase really meant. She seemed genuinely interested.
“Yes, I am a businessman.”
“What else do you do?” She asked.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, what do you do besides work? For example, one man I met who was a businessman also loved to quilt. He was too embarrassed to tell his friends, but he had a real passion for it. He would make them and then donate them to homeless shelters. That was in New York.”
I was lost for words. A man who quilted? My better masculine judgment told me not to express my shock that men were capable of doing things like quilting, but the look on my face must have given me away.
“It’s not a bad thing, you know.” She said smiling. “He wasn’t gay, he just liked quilting.”
“Of course.” I said. “Whatever floats your boat.”
She smiled again. “So what else do you do?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, I go out with friends sometimes or visit my family. Sometimes I go swimming. I used to be very good at chess and hearts, but that was a long time ago. I’m sorry, I’ve been talking to you all this time and I still don’t know your name. What is your name?”
“Andela, but most people call me Ana” She said simply. “And yours?”
“Roger.” I replied. “Roger Wick. Nice to meet you, Ana.”
I offered my hand and she took it. About this time the waitress came with my order, and I nodded in thanks. “Did you order anything?”
“Oh yes,” She said. “I ordered quite awhile ago, so I’m already done.”
“And you’re here still?” I said. “Where are you staying?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I hadn’t any plans.”
“No plans?” I said, inwardly shocked. “Well, I might suggest the hotel down the street, they’ve got a really great brunch.”
“ I don’t think I’ll be staying in a hotel.” She said. “I don’t have much money. Besides, there’s nothing better than sleeping outside.”
“Outside?” I said, sure that my tone now fully indicated my shock. “You mean on the street? You couldn’t do that, it’s so dangerous.”
“Why?” She asked.
“You could get raped, or mugged—you have to be careful in cities like this. I mean, we may not be New York City, but we’ve got our fair share of criminals.”
She smiled. “You seem awfully worried about me considering you’ve known me for ten minutes.”
I didn’t know what to say. I had only known her for ten minutes, yet the thought of her sleeping on the street was unbearable.
“Come stay with me then.” I said, avoiding my better judgment to just walk away. “I have a spare room, you can stay for as long as you’d like.”
She looked at me for a moment, considering, and then said. “Alright.”
“You know you really shouldn’t be accepting offers like that.” I said, inwardly torn. “What if I were a murderer?”
“Are you?” She asked.
I frowned. “No.”
“Well then, I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

* * * * *

When I brought her back to my apartment, I was a little embarrassed that I had come across so needy. My embarrassment prevented me from wondering why Ana had nearly slept on the street that night. The next morning, however, as if waking up from a hangover, I suddenly began to wonder who exactly I’d let into my apartment.
When I got up, she was already awake and sitting on my couch, looking at a book. It was a book I kept on my coffee table, which was a photo album of my parents and my early childhood. I wasn’t sure why I kept it there, except that my mother had made it for me and given it to me on my 25th birthday. I often had guests at my apartment, whether it was my friends or co-workers or family, but no one had ever looked at it before.
I walked over to sit next to her. She looked at me and smiled. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I replied. “Looking at my photo album?”
“Are these your parents?” She asked, pointing to a wedding picture.
“Yeah,” I replied. “They were married in 1969.”
“When were you born?”
“I was born in 1976, I’m not the oldest in my family I’m actually in the upper middle. I have six siblings.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Six? Tell me about them.”
I paused for a moment. “Well, the oldest is John. He was born in 1970, so he’s 35. Since he’s the oldest he’s a partner with my father right now in the business my family co-owns. It’s a manufacturing company that produces parts for household appliances.”
“Really? Did John get the job because he was the oldest?
“Yeah, pretty much. It’s okay though, most of us other kids didn’t want it. John just always knew he would get it, and that’s how my parents have treated him since he was a kid. I guess he probably was put under a lot of pressure, but that’s just how things were. My parents had our lives in mind since we were born.”
“Did all of your siblings follow their ideas?”
I smiled to myself, and motioned to take the book from her. “Here, let me show you.”
I flipped to a picture at the very back that my mother had included. It was a picture taken six years before when the seven of us had come together to celebrate our parents’ 30th wedding anniversary. It was one of the last times all of us had been together in one room.
“This is John, he just had his first kid, three months ago. A little boy.” I said, pointing to a stern looking man with brown hair and green eyes.
“He looks a lot like your mother.” Ana said, smiling.
I nodded and then pointed to a woman with blonde hair and brown eyes. “This is my older sister Eve. She’s 33 and a doctor. My mother wanted her to be a doctor because she always wanted to be one. My mom is really smart, but was a housewife all her life. That blonde hair isn’t real, she’s dyed it since she was 14.”
“Does she have any kids?”
“Yeah, she’s got a little girl who is two, I think.”
I then pointed to a picture of myself. “This is me, six years younger.”
Ana smiled. “I see. You look very much like your father. You have your mother’s eyes though.”
I nodded, pointing over at a smiling red-headed woman. “That’s Samantha. My mom calls her ‘our little surprise’. The red hair is real, my mom’s mom had red hair and my dads grandparents had red hair. It looks like we adopted her, and because of her personality it feels like we did too. She married young, she has three kids now and she’s 27, she’s actually pregnant in this picture with her first son.”
“What did your parents want her to do?” Ana asked, looking up at me.
I shrugged. “Sammy was the only one my parents didn’t have any ideas for. They thought she was a boy, and were going to name her Samuel. She became a kindergarten teacher and she loves it. She loves kids.”
Ana pointed at a girl with dark hair and bright eyes. “Is this the next one?”
I smiled. “Yeah, that’s Veronica. She’s 24 now and she’s in Law School. She did modeling for awhile, but she decided after undergrad school she didn’t want to pursue it. I think she might be close to finishing school now, actually. She’s the perfect lawyer, but my parents raised her that way. God, I haven’t talked to her in almost a year.”
“She is very pretty”
I nodded. “It’s a good thing she’s not really interested in guys, otherwise my Dad would have gone crazy the second she turned twelve. Thirteen different guys asked her to prom and I have to admit I was jealous I didn’t get that kind of attention from women. Still don’t.”
Ana smiled. “She’s not interested in men?”
I paused. “Well, I don’t know about that. I think she’s just too into her work to be interested in any sort of relationship.”
“I bet this one is next.” Ana guessed, pointing at a skinny brown-haired boy.
I laughed. “James has grown so much since this picture. He’s 22 now, just graduated from undergrad school. He’s our little computer geek, and he’s done very well with it. He has a guaranteed job with a video game company to develop and program video games. Can’t remember the company, but he starts in a few months. He’s got a serious girlfriend, I think they might get married soon. It might be the first time I’ve seen all of my family since this picture was taken.”
“Really?” Ana asked. “That’s a long time to go without seeing them all together.”
I shrugged. “John was the last one to get married, and it was the year before this. Sammy got married when she was 19 and Eve when she was 23. I don’t think Veronica wants to get married, and Molly…”
“Molly is the youngest?” Ana asked, picking up on my pause.
I pointed to a girl with black hair and bright green eyes who was dressed in black and wore thick makeup. “Molly is 19 now, but she doesn’t look much different. She’s our rebel.”
Ana grinned. “I think I can tell. She was 13 in this picture?”
“Yeah. Oh, she does have maroon streaks in her hair now and a lip piercing. I don’t think it looks too bad but my mother almost had a heart attack when she saw it.”
“What do your parents want her to be?”
“They want her to get into business also. My mom always wanted one of her girls to do business. Molly has other ideas.”
“Does she go to college?”
I shook my head. “My Mom tried to send her to college, but she doesn’t want any part of it. She’s an artist, she’s been working for a tattoo place as an apprentice and sells artwork on the side. She’s very good. It’s my mom’s worst nightmare, but she cares too much about her kids to disown her. She just complains to me about it and calls Molly to try and entice her into going to school. Then Molly calls me and complains about my mother.”
“You and Molly talk often?”
I nodded. “I love all of my siblings, but Molly was always different. It’s hard being the youngest, and most of my other siblings didn’t pay much attention to her. She didn’t take me moving to Seattle very well, but she calls me at least once a week since I moved. Me and Sammy are the only ones who aren’t judgmental towards her.”
I paused for a moment, and frowned. “You didn’t honestly want to hear all that did you?”
“Of course I did.” Ana said, and I could tell she was being honest.
I looked at her, then, and remembered my earlier thoughts. “Ana, you keep asking me questions about myself, but I don’t know very much about you. Why were you going to sleep on the street? Do you have a job here in Seattle?”
She smiled. “Most wouldn’t consider what I do a job.”
“What do you do?” I asked, intrigued.
“I collect stories.”
I frowned. “You what?”
“I collect stories. I’ve talked to many different people all around America, and I collect their stories. There are a lot of fascinating people, you know.”
At this point, I was completely lost for words. I began to wonder if she was mentally stable. A story collector? It was then that it dawned on me I had been telling her quite a bit over the twenty-four hours or so I had known her.
“Are you collecting my story?”
She nodded. “Is that okay with you?”
“Well, er, I don’t have much of a story.”
She shook her head. “Everyone has a story.”
“I guess, but my story isn’t very interesting.
“Why?”
She was good at catching me off guard. I didn’t have a compelling reason why my story wasn’t interesting.
“It’s just…not.” I said pathetically.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s interesting or not. It’s a story, and it means something. Everyone’s story means something.”
I was impressed. “Everyone?”
“Everyone.” She nodded.
“Where do you collect these stories?”
She smiled at me, and then leaned over to grab her carry-on, which she had left in the living room the night before. She opened the zipper, and I saw that it was divided between notebooks and tapes.
“I tape-record at least part of the story.” She said. “Some people are more willing to talk to me rather than to a recorder. Some feel embarrassed that others might hear them speak about their story. Others want to record all of their story, because they want their voice to be heard.”
I gaped at the contents of her carry-on, realizing that she wasn’t joking when she said she had met a lot of people.
“How many have you collected?”
“I think so far I have about 246. You would be 247.”
I blinked several times. “H-how long have you been doing this?”
“Since I graduated high school. I’m 25 now.”
By this time I found myself feeling a strange mix of horror and curiosity. Even Molly had made something of herself with her art, surely Ana didn’t think that going around collecting stories was a worthwhile affair? Did she plan to do it her whole life? How did she make money? How did she live?
“I do often work, also, if you’re wondering.” She said, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s a great way to collect more stories. I don’t need much to get by, as long as I have enough money to feed myself that’s all I really need.”
“You’re amazingly humble.” I said, frowning to myself. “I could never say the same thing.”
She smiled sheepishly. “Never say never. Didn’t your parents ever tell you that?”
I rolled my eyes. “You seem to be well versed in middle-class parenting. What kind of stories do you have in here, anyway?”
“All kinds. All different in one way or another. Would you like to hear some of them?”
“Hear them?” I asked, appalled. “Aren’t they personal?”
“Of course.” Ana said. “What else would they be?”
I shook my head. “Wouldn’t I be intruding by hearing them?”
“Not at all.” Ana said. “They’re meant to be heard, and they should be. There’s a good chance you will never know these people in your lifetime, but their stories should live on. Life is not necessarily mortal. After all, we pass on more than just genes to our children.”
Still frowning, I happened to glance at a clock.
“Shit, I made a lunch date with a partner at 11:30, I need to get going or I’ll be late.” I said, realizing I had a half hour to change into good clothes and get there. “But we’ll continue this later, okay? There’s an extra key in the jar over there, if you want to leave and come back, I should be back in the late afternoon.”
She nodded, and continued to look at my book while I rushed to my room to get ready.

* * * * *

When I came back, she was gone, and I worried feverishly if she would come back. My thoughts were soon interrupted, however, when I received a call from my mother.
“Darling, Molly’s at it again. I can’t get a hold of her, and I’ve been trying for two days now.”
“Well, mom, maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you.” I said, still wondering about Ana. I walked over to the jar I had pointed out with a spare key and was slightly relieved to see that she had taken it.
“Don’t say things like that, Roger, I won’t take this. She may be over 18 now, but she’s still my daughter and I will not take this.”
“I know, mom.” I said, as I always did.
“When was the last time you talked to her?”
I thought for a moment. “Actually it has been awhile. She usually calls me once a week, but I think that last time I heard from her was a few weeks ago.”
“I swear, Roger, that girl is going to give me a heart attack one day. You don’t suppose something is wrong, do you?”
I honestly didn’t know, but I said, “Look, mom, I’ll try giving her a call. She’s probably fine, maybe she’s just been caught up with work, or maybe she’s been feeling sick. There’s a lot of sickness going around, they’ve been talking about it on the news.”
They hadn’t actually talked about sickness on the news, but my mother took the bait. “Oh, yes, I suppose I remember that. Well, Roger, please call me if you get a hold of her. If I don’t hear from her in a few days I’m telling you I will call the police.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, mom. Love you.”
“I love you too, darling.”
I clicked my cell phone shut and wondered to myself if Molly really was all right. Picking up my phone again, I dialed Molly and was disappointed to only hear her voicemail. Again, I picked up my cell phone and this time dialed Samantha.
“Hello, you’ve reached the Johnson residence, may I ask who is calling?” A tiny voice from the other end of the line said.
I smiled. “Tyler, how are you, buddy? It’s Uncle Roger.”
“Hi Uncle Roger!” Tyler said, his voice suddenly excited. “Are you coming to visit us again?”
I laughed. “One day soon, okay? Is your mom around?”
I heard shuffling, and lots of noises of little voices. I heard Tyler shout ‘Uncle Roger is on the phone mommy!’ and a squeal from what I assumed was Heather, Tyler’s three-year-old sister. I heard some whining, that would probably be Noah, age one, protesting to the noise.
“Roger?” I heard finally. “What’s up?”
“Since when do you have Tyler answering the phone like a little butler?” I asked, teasingly.
“I didn’t teach him that.” Sammy said, clearly amused. “He learned that in kindergarten.”
“Kindergarten? What the hell are you teachers teaching kids these days?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. How to chain smoke, not to use a condom, and just for fun we get them drunk and teach them how to cure a hangover.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even though she was clearly calling me old. “Things just aren’t like the old days, huh?”
“No kidding. No one ever taught us that stuff, we had to figure it out on our own. What the hell is up with that?”
“Sam, you’re one of a kind.”
“So what’s up Roger? You sound like you called me about something.”
I nodded into the phone. “Yeah, I sort of did. Have you heard from Molly lately?”
“No,” Sammy said, and I could hear the concern in her voice, “I really haven’t. I was going to call mom, but I didn’t want to worry her.”
“Well, mom already called me asking about it. She said she’ll call the police soon.”
Sammy sighed. “I’ve been trying to call her all week. Every time I get her voicemail. I even left a few messages. By the way, it’s Vi’s birthday today.”
“Damn it, why do I forget every time that hers is so close to mine?”
Sammy laughed “You’re a man, you forget everyone’s birthday. That reminds me, I should call John and remind him, I’m not sure that Carol knows everyone’s birthday yet.”
“What about James?”
“No, Jamie is the only man I’ve ever met who remembers those types of things. I guess it makes sense since he has a photographic memory.”
I thought for a moment and then remembered something I had told Ana earlier. To this day Sammy is the glue to our family and is the only sibling who calls everyone, and often. For this reason, I knew she would know more about my siblings than I did at the time. “James and Lily, how are they doing?”
“Oh, just amazing, Roger, he can’t say enough good things about her. Their third dating anniversary is in a month and he’s planning to propose. How exciting is that? We’ll have the family back together again.”
I nodded into the phone again. “That will be interesting. I haven’t seen some of you guys since…well since mom and dads wedding anniversary.”
“It has been a long time.” Sammy agreed. “Who besides me have you seen?”
“Just you, Molly and mom and dad. I haven’t even met Eve’s kid since she’s been in Florida."
“Nor John’s kid. By the way, his name is Alan.”
“Well, he’s three months old. Lucy is what, two?”
“Three, actually, as of two months ago. She and Heather are only a month apart.”
“Crap.” I said. “I’m a terrible Uncle. Weren’t we talking about Molly?”
Sammy laughed. “Yes we were. I just don’t know, Rog, what can we do? We’re not in L.A we can’t just go look for her. And you know Molly, this isn’t the first time she’s done something like this.”
“Yeah,” I said, slightly disappointed. “I guess we’ll just wait it out.”