The Seven Stone Message

It had been windy the day she had returned home, one of the first few nice days that spring. Samantha had her jacket tucked under her arm and two bags of groceries. Climbing up the three steps to porch on her house, she reached for the door handle. Juggling the bags and jacket, she was preoccupied as grasped for the door handle with two fingers. It was only when the door swung slightly open and she had adjusted the grip on the groceries that she noticed Josh’s body lying in the corner of the porch.
When she came back two weeks later, the police had taken his body and the funeral had occurred. The blood had been cleaned up, as well as the groceries she had dropped. She was not sure if her parents did that themselves or had found someone else to do it, some dispassionate third party whose daily routine consisted of sopping up blood and grey matter. Whatever cleaner had been used had slightly discolored the painted boards of the porch. There was a large, irregular spot that was slightly lighter than its surroundings in the corner of the porch. The shotgun and the suicide note were gone. No one had touched the handful of stones from the garden in front of the porch that Josh had weighed down the note with on that windy day. Samantha had only seen it through a blur of tears in those first few awful minutes, and she remembered only a few words like “pain” and “can’t” and “sorry” and “never”.
She shooed her parents out the door, promising to call anytime of the day or night if she felt the need. She told them she was going to be okay, and thanked them for letting her stay at their house the past weeks. She watched them shuffle back to the blue pickup truck, holding on to each other. Her father opened the door for her mother, before coming back around the cab and climbing carefully into the driver’s seat. They both waved as they pulled down the driveway and again she heard them both call out that they loved her.
It was early in the evening when she came back outside on the porch. Samantha lay on the couch for hours and clicked through endless channels, not remembering what was on the last as soon as she went to the next. She didn’t feel like eating anything, and wandered around the house. There were still some Josh’s things she had to get rid of, but she didn’t feel the strength to do it now. She sat on the porch at the table set they had gotten on sale at Home Depot the winter two years back, which was empty save the stones, counting seven of them now. Heavy enough to hold down the single sheet of loose paper, ripped out of the notebook they kept by the phone in the kitchen. They were small round white stones, with striations of black veins that God had made carefully with a very thin paintbrush. They had come from the garden in front of the porch, stone mulch they had a landscaper lay down when they first bought the house so they wouldn’t have to put down regular mulch every year. The seven stones just about fit in the palm of her hand.
Samantha went to work the next day, and the day after, and the day after. She talked with her parents almost every day, and visited them on the weekends. When she was home alone, she often sat on the porch when weather was nice with the seven stones. They made fine company, and Samantha got to know them very well. At first glance the stones seemed very similar, but once she got to know them, Samantha never had any trouble distinguishing one from the other. There was Lenny and Carl, two friends who had known each other since the first grade, up through high school, and even went to the same college together. They livened up any discussion, kidding each other constantly and always telling stories of the misadventures of their youth. There was Dana, the voracious reader in the group, always trying to engage someone in a discussion or a debate about current events. Celi was a vivacious teenager, infatuated with all things Disney, and all things pink and girly. Wilbur was the oldest of the seven stones, prone to periods of great silence and reflection but a tremendously interesting conversationalist once Dana got him talking about world history. Scott was the hands on type, happy when he was working on keeping the garden well kept and even happier when he was hunting and fishing. Robespierre was the poet, visiting the U.S. from his native France. He was happy to soak in the culture of this new land, although his sensitive nature was bruised occasionally when Lenny and Carl would tease him about his accent.
Samantha kept going to work and visiting her parents. As the summer went on she went through Josh’s things, donating his clothes to Goodwill and getting rid of his toothbrush and razor from the bathroom. She spent a lot of time with the stones, laughing the Lenny and Carl and working on the garden with Scott. She liked to hear Celi sing her favorite Disney songs. She spent many a late evening with Wilbur and Dana discussing how today’s politicians should learn from those of the past. Robespierre’s English improved dramatically, and he was even able to teach Samantha some basic French. The summer faded away into the fall, and Samantha had to put a jacket to spend time on the porch. Fall was creeping into winter when Robespierre, with a heartfelt sigh, announced it was time to go back to Paris. His visa was expiring, and although he loved the time he had spent in America, it was time to go home. Samantha was sad to see him go but understood how he felt. The stones and she staid up until it was very late, talking and laughing. Samantha’s fingers were numb from the cold and she had to go to work the next day, so she bid them goodnight. Robespierre made her and the rest promise to visit him in Paris in the spring, and they were happy to accept the invitation. When she came back the next evening, there were only six stones. It was getting too cold to stay outside for very long, but the remaining six were more comfortable there as opposed to inside. Samantha visited with them as much as she could stand the cold, going back inside to warm herself and dream of their trip to Paris in the spring.