A Short Walk to the Bookshop

by Aleksandra Drake

  "I liked it," Richard said, flipping through the pages and looking a little embarrassed. "It took me a couple tries to get through it, but I liked it once I got invested."

  Richard and Paula had never had their summer romance. They made eyes at each other every time they were together, but nothing had come of it. Not yet anyway.

  "I loved it right away," Paula piped in. "Wickham totally fooled me. What an asshole."

  There was something surreal about sitting at that table and bantering about Pride and Prejudice, while it seemed like everything else in my life was in an uproar. Although everyone at the table was aware of what was happening to me, no one said anything about it. Out of politeness or just to give me a break from thinking about it, I didn’t know. It was good though. I was content.

  "Stephen, I want to know what you think," I said. He looked up, almost a little bit startled at being called on. Like, being a teacher, he wasn't used to it. His expression made me laugh.

  "It wasn't as bad as I'd feared."

  Richard scoffed.

  "Did you really think it would be bad? It's like...the most famous novel ever," Paula asked.

  Stephen gave a small, chagrined smile. "Okay, alright, it was fine. It was good, in fact. Jane knew how to write a story, that much is evident."

  It ended up being pretty easy to play along as if I'd read the book. I'd seen enough movie adaptations to be able to fake it. Diedrich actually played it off very well, I highly doubted that anyone would guess that he hadn’t read the book recently. He leaned back in his chair, his crossed arms his only concession to his discomfort at socializing in a group.

  I made a silent promise to myself to definitely read the next book, come hell or high water.

  "So listen," Paula said a bit later when the conversation had devolved into a debate between which adaptation was better, the Colin Firth miniseries or the 2005 movie with Kiera Knightley. "As I was reading, my niece asked me what was up and I told her about the bookclub. Long story short, she wants to join. I told her I didn't know and I'd have to ask since right now it's all adults. She's fifteen, but pretty precocious. She wants to be a writer and she already reads well above her grade level. Anyway, I told her I'd ask."

  It was quiet for a moment while everyone considered. Athena got up and paced around my chair for a moment before sitting down again.

  "I'd feel bad saying no," I said after a pause. "I mean, if she wants to. It seems wrong to tell a kid no you’re too little to read books. You know?"

  Richard nodded slowly but the other men were reticent. Diedrich was the first to speak.

  "I suppose, if you’re here, Paula, to act as her guardian while she's here, that would be fine. We will have to take care with our book selections to be sure that she's not exposed to anything too adult," he said.

  Stephen nodded. "I'm not against it. It seems that 'the more the merrier' has been proven in this case so far," he said, with a glance at Paula and me.

  "Oh good. She'll be so glad to hear it. I asked her, in case you all agreed, what kind of book she'd like to read to give her a vote in our decision. She said she didn't mind whatever we chose as long as it wasn't too long. She's got schoolwork to keep up with as well."

  "Well," Stephen leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think novels are the way to go for the time being."

  Several eyebrows rose at this statement coming from Stephen but no one was bold enough to say anything.

  "And since last season was a romance, my vote this time is for science fiction."

  "1984?" Diedrich asked

  "Or The Time Machine!" Richard exclaimed. His face had lighted up at the mention of sci-fi.

  "Why do you say 1984?" I asked Diedrich.

  He chuckled. "I happen to have several copies of that one on hand, for sure."

  After a bit of back and forth it was ultimately decided that going for the book Diedrich had on hand was the path of least resistance and paperbacks were distributed.

  "Hey, before we go..." Richard said as we started to gather our things to leave. He looked in my eyes and laid his hand out on the table as if to take mine. I touched his fingertips and he continued "I don't mean to bring up unpleasant stuff, but I think it's important for us all to let Sparrow know that we are here for her."

  "Absolutely," Paula said immediately.

  Stephen nodded in his way and even placed his hand on my shoulder. I had to hold my breath to keep from crying, and I felt my face growing red.

  "You've changed the whole attitude of our little community here at Chapter One, Sparrow" Stephen said, oddly serious even for him. "We care for our own, here. And you're one of our own now."

  I swallowed thickly, blinking back embarrassed tears and feeling very hot. Paula smiled and leaned over to kiss the side of my forehead, rubbing my back for a moment before diffusing the overwhelming attention on myself by reiterating how excited she was to bring her niece in the winter. The bubble broke and everyone was back to themselves again and I was able to release the air I'd been holding in my lungs.

  When everyone had left, I helped Diedrich close down shop, wiping the table and counters with a damp rag and pushing in chairs.

  Going upstairs to Diedrich's apartment in the cool dark was as casual and comfortable as coming home. Diedrich kept such simple, easy routines, it was so effortless to meld into them, losing myself in the quietness of his life.

  In the morning, we had coffee and toast together, and I walked down to the shop with him and he saw me off to work. I loved working the opening shift at the grocery store. Dew still coated all the windows, blurring the view so that the world outside was in soft focus and inside I was free to enjoy soft rock hits of the late eighties while counting change.

  Paula was there with me that morning, sweeping around the new display of fresh corn. Heather was upstairs fighting with the computer, and Paula and I shared a silent appreciation for the fact that Heather and her stressful energy were tucked away out of sight at least for the time being.

  “So did you do the thing with the chocolates?” Paula asked.

  I laughed. “Felt like an idiot, but yeah. He looked at me kinda funny, like he was flustered. But no bites.”

  “Well, I mean there’s no clearer way of telegraphing your desire than seductively biting into a chocolate. Ball’s in his court now.”

  I shrugged, closing my register drawer. “Honestly, I don’t mind being in limbo with him. I know he likes me, and that’s good enough for now. Maybe one day he won’t have so much reason to worry about being so cautious with me.”

  When the first customer of the morning came in, I hurried to tidy up my checking line, preparing for the small morning rush that happened every weekday. Living in a bedroom community meant that, every day, there was a short period of time when everyone would hurry in to pick things up or do business before commuting to work. Then again in the evening, when people stopped to pick up groceries on the way home. The long lull in the middle was when we would see the people who spent their life in the town, the regulars.

  I was in the middle of ringing up a bottled coffee and a box of donuts when I caught sight of him, but it was like I could feel him even before I saw him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of black hair, and a familiar gait. I knew the way he walked. I knew the way he stood.

  I glanced up before I had a chance to think better of it. My blood ran cold. He was looking right at me. Of course he was.

  His lips parted to speak but I abandoned my spot, turning on my heel and nearly running to the stairs. I could hear him behind me.

  "Hold on just a second, I’m sorry." I heard Paula saying to the customer she’d been helping. As I pounded up the stairs I heard her again. "Sir, you can't go up there. Employees only."

  "I just need to speak to Sparrow." His voice made my stomach turn and, standing in the doorway to Heather's office, with an annoyed and confused look on her face, I thought that I was going to throw up on the floor. My body was so
weak. In moments of crisis it was the first thing to fail on me, filling my throat with bile and making every muscle seize up uselessly. I was no match for him, or for anyone.

  "Call the police," I managed to stammer.

  "What?"

  "Call the police," I repeated, my voice choking in my throat as panic clawed at me.

  She hesitated, so I lunged over her desk and grabbed the old fashioned corded phone on the other side of the desk, punching in 911.

  "Sparrow, what's going on?" She yelled, jumping to her feet.

  "Sparrow!" I heard him bellow at the bottom of the stairs, along with sounds of Paula attempting to block his path.

  Heather seemed to begin to understand then and she fled from the room to join Paula in the stairwell.

  "Sir, the police are on their way. Don't be an idiot." Heather's business-like voice was authoritative and only someone who knew her rather well would be able to hear the taint of fear in it.

  Adrien cursed and there was a loud crushing sound. Then nothing. I was alone with the sound of my breath, a horrifying staccato that shook in my lungs.

  "I’ll cover the registers. Go up to Sparrow." I heard Heather say, as if from far away.

  I wanted to be grateful for Paula's presence, the windswept look of her hair and the concern in her face. It was hard to see her through the blinding realization that I was absolutely useless.

  "He ran, didn't he?" I asked.

  "Yes, he's gone. It's alright."

  I wanted to punch the wall. A white hot rage, the likes of which I'd never felt before, bubbled over inside me. My face burned hot and Paula's arms thrown around me were the only thing that held me together.

  "What's the matter?" she asked. "He's gone. It's okay now."

  "He got away." It felt like a shriek but came out small and resolute. "He got away. Again. He was so close and I let him get away."

  The police arrived minutes later. Three of them in their black uniforms and stupid utility belts swarmed me like a bunch of self important bees. Laura wasn't one of them. I looked the strangers in the face and recounted the story and, when they brought me downstairs, I saw the hole that Adrien had punched in the wall. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it as I passed.

  Diedrich was there. He'd been kept from coming upstairs and he looked furious about it. Laura had been there after all, and she had both hands on his shoulders, preventing him from running to me.

  "Sparrow!" he shouted "What happened? I saw the police cars..." He looked frantic.

  "Did you see him?"

  "I didn't see him. I didn't see him." He sounded like he was begging forgiveness.

  "Sir, we are taking her to the station for further questioning. You are welcome to follow." Laura said with irritation in her voice.

  The rigmarole at the police station was so boring that it was easy to check out of the whole process. Papers were shuffled before me and I repeated, again, what happened. Experiencing something like that, then immediately retelling it like a story over and over left me with a strange feeling that it was all made up. Like it hadn't actually happened. It was just a story I was telling myself.

  The only thing that felt real was that hole in the wall. He kept leaving traces of himself behind.

  "Did he hurt you?" Laura asked.

  "He didn't touch me. I saw him and ran upstairs." I said, though it did feel very much like he had touched me. It felt like he was still touching me even there in the station. It felt like his hands were all over me.

  Diedrich took me home with the care of a new father, shuffling me into his car and up the stairs and into bed.

  "Are you alright?" he asked. "You’re doing the stone face again. I don't know what to do."

  "I'd like to talk to my mother alone."

  He looked afraid, but when I asked him to leave, he did. I sat up in the middle of his bed, wrapped in the blankets that I knew to be soft and warm but couldn't quite feel just then. I thought my mom wouldn't answer, the phone rang five times, but then she did.

  "Hey baby," she said cheerfully.

  "Mom, Adrien came to my work today. I saw him."

  "Did he see you?" The change in the mood of her voice was so dramatic and sudden it sounded like she had handed the phone to another person. "Come home. I can keep an eye on you here. Come back," she said.

  "No." The offer that would have been so tempting before was hollow now. "I don't want to. I'm tired of running away from him and hiding. I have friends here. A life."

  "It's not safe. You can't be alone in that house with him so close."

  "I'm not in that house. I'm staying with ...a friend,” I said, feeling bad now for not telling her sooner.

  "Your bookshop guy," she said.

  "Diedrich."

  "Diedrich, right. And he can protect you?"

  I sighed. It would be nice to say yes, and in truth a part of me did believe that he could. As if, somehow, just his presence would act like a shield around me. I felt safe here, like this little apartment was closed off from the rest of the world.

  "He wants to," I answered.

  "Your room here is just as you left it," she said. "I would like you to come home. I had hoped that you were so busy with your new friends and job and that's why we hadn’t kept in touch as much lately."

  "That was why." I said "But I'm not coming back. Not yet. I just wanted to let you know what was happening."

  "Well thank you for letting me know, but I'm not satisfied. If you won’t come home, then I want to hear from you every morning and every night. Do you understand?" she said with caring irritation in her voice.

  "Yes mom. I'm going to go now. I’m really tired."

  She said she loved me and let me hang up. I normally felt better after speaking to her, but this time I only felt conflicted. It would be a good idea to go home. Adrien would likely follow me, right back into the jurisdiction of his parole officer and the police force that was familiar with his particular brand of bullshit. I could move back in with my mom which was, by all accounts, a less tentative arrangement than crashing at Diedrich's already cramped place for an indiscriminate amount of time. And I had less guilt about inconveniencing my mother than people who had no real obligation to me, frankly.

  The thought of leaving Diedrich behind, though, was unthinkable. He was so much more than simply a balm for my trauma. The rhythms of his life and his gentleness had become essential. I would miss him. I thought, even if none of this shit with Adrien had ever happened, if I had come to West Bend to take care of grandma’s house, completely unburdened by any of this, I would still have fallen in love with him. He embodied a strain of masculinity that I'd never seen before and would not have even truly believed in if I hadn't experienced it. I couldn't let him go now.

  Which was to say nothing of my other friends. Although Diedrich took up the most space in the front of my mind, his presence was supported by an entire community which, small as it may be, had adopted me in all my broken weirdness. I couldn't just go back to Texas, not only because I didn't want to, but because I would be missed here. For once in my life it didn't feel narcissistic or self aggrandizing to acknowledge that I inhabited a unique position in a group of friends that wouldn't be able to be filled by anyone else.

  This was my town now. Adrien was the one who needed to leave.

  "How is your mother?" Diedrich asked, appearing around the door frame with a steaming mug of tea. He sat down on the edge of the bed and handed it to me.

  "She wants me to go back to Texas."

  "Oh," He said with a careful lack of expression.

  "I'm not going to. I'd rather stay."

  He smiled, placing his hand on my ankle as I stretched out my legs across the bed. "I would miss you."

  "I would miss you too." I said, sipping the tea. "I'm worn out. Is it okay if I sleep till dinnertime?"

  "Do you need me to stay or..?"

  "Go back downstairs and sell your books," I said. “He can’t get up here without you noticing.” He seemed rel
uctant, but he did leave me alone to curl up in the middle of the bed, pulling the blankets up over my eyes.

  Where once sleep had been my perpetual enemy, in the next few weeks I found that I could sleep any time I wanted. I could take a long nap in the afternoon, wake up for dinner, and go back to bed with Diedrich at the end of the day. I was safe up there in that second story flat with the one door and the windows too high to see in from the street. Occasionally I would have nightmares of Adrien climbing up the outside walls, lizard like, with backwards knees and all-seeing eyes. I would wake up with a start and my head swimming and stagger to the bathroom to be sick. Invariably, Diedrich would knock softly on the door moments later and, with his bleary nighttime voice, ask if I was alright and bring me mint tea to settle my stomach. We would sit together on the cool bathroom floor until I was certain I wouldn't throw up again, then he'd help me to my feet and take me back to bed, placid and passive as a sleepy child. In the morning I would wake up slightly when he attempted to slip his arms out from around me and sneak off to work, but only enough to smile when he pressed his lips between my eyebrows in goodbye. Then I would sleep until noon.

  I was too scared to go back to work. I tried it, once or twice, but I was useless there anyway. I could hardly tear my eyes away from the door and walking past the fist-sized hole in the wall on the way up to the break room made me feel sick. Finally, Heather had pulled me into her office and told me to go home.

  "Your position is on hold," she had told me, "until you are ready to come back."

  Demoralized, I'd walked across the street to Chapter One with my lunch bag untouched. I'd lost three jobs in this exact way in the past. My managers were never mean about it. They were always very understanding, in fact. But the cold hard truth of the matter was that no one could afford to pay for me to stand around being consumed with anxiety.

  That autumn, my love affair with naps became a committed marriage. I read all the books on Diedrich's nightstand, getting a little thrill of excitement every time I surpassed his bookmarks. Curled up under the blankets, my head on the pillow that smelled like him, I would pass the hours watching the angles of the sun slanting through the blinds as they shifted in a slow circle.