Prologue
Prologue
"As you know, I firmly believe that any single tree is more magnificent and captivating than the best sculptural masterpiece ever created by the hand of a woman or a man."
Juniper Capelli zooms her web camera in on the slideshow on her computer screen.
"It's not that I hate people," she continues. "I don't. I have had enough disappointment though for someone five times my age. Twenty going on one hundred. It's really true in my case."
Her screen rotates selected photographs she has taken outdoors. A tortoise treading barren desert. A row of soccer fields surrounded by a bank of evergreen trees. The mountain horizon under a blazing sunset.
"So, I choose to start your video with beauty. Natural beauty. Parks count too, in my opinion. Theoretically, I know nature can be cruel, but in my heart I think it is more serene and decent than anything we find in human civilization. You might still disagree with me on this point. Maybe you have come around? I am not sure I will ever know."
Juniper trains her web camera on her face. She notices her look of dread on the screen and quickly smiles. She tucks her shoulder-length, rainbow-colored hair behind her ears and wipes away a piece of lint embedded in the pale makeup on her cheek.
"I am not going to feel guilty by keeping my location a secret. For all I know, you are not ever going to open this. It will likely wither and die in your inbox. Or be deleted immediately with no regard whatsoever. You are not one to forgive. But there are better angels and I have seen them with you. At times. I am hopeful tonight, as I record this for you, that they win the day. I want you to understand better—even if just a tiny bit better—why I had to leave for awhile."
Juniper takes a sip of sparkling water from a paper cup.
"Are you laughing that I don't have dishes? I am living on paper plates and quite proud of it, actually. It was all I could do to try and afford this casita—it's just this room and what you see behind me. Being fancy has nothing to do with my mission. From my photographs you already know I am out West. The rugged, wild, merciless, and ruthless West. However, that is nearly a third or more of the United States, so it's not enough of a clue for you to find me."
Juniper finishes her drink and tosses the cup over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchenette.
"I don't want to be found. I have something to do and I am bound to do it. Nothing could change my mind. Surely, you know me well enough by now to know that!"
She looks down at her notes and checks off a couple of items on her list.
"The people here don't understand me. My piercings, tattoos, and colorful hair. My free spirit. They see me as a runaway. A lost girl. I make no effort for them to see me as anything else. Their pity and their unwelcome advances are not appreciated. I get more attention than I want. A few days ago I took a giant step with someone here and disclosed my intentions. It did not go well. Shock. A frigid response. And you know what? I also saw fear. Terror even. It ended like that. No answer, no closure. Maybe their being afraid is to my advantage. What do you think? Are you ever going to see this?"
The doorbell rings and Juniper darts out of her desk chair to her front door while the recording continues. She peers through the door peephole, exhales, and returns her to her seat.
"The redhead is bothering me again. He wants me to leave. So I must handle this and stop your video here. Don't worry. I can handle him just fine. But I must say, frankly, that I plead for your goodwill and blessing as I tackle my objectives here. I like to think I am finally being altruistic. Benevolent. All of this is not for me, of course. I am proving that I can give every part of my soul to helping someone I love and cherish."
Juniper's doorbell rings again, followed by the sound of knocking.
"That's all she wrote. Be well. Try to empathize with me. And please, please forgive me."
#
