by J. J. McAvoy
“Thank you, miss,” Wolfgang thankfully spoke as he took the bag from her hands.
I used that as my moment to walk down to meet her.
“No problem.” She smiled at him before her attention focused back on me. “What were you saying about scuba diving? Isn’t it a bit cold for that?”
“Actually, diving when it is cold gives you better visibility. But I was thinking of going to an aquarium.”
“You can do that?”
“At the right price, you can do anything.” I wanted to bang my head. Now I sounded like a pompous ass.
“Oh, well...I hope you have fun. I was hoping you were free today, but we can go next time—”
“Wait, Odette.” I chuckled. Did she really think I wanted to go scuba diving on my own? “I wanted to take you.”
“Me? But I don’t know how to scuba dive.”
I laughed, it wasn’t really that funny, but her facial expression just made me laugh anyway. Rubbing the back of my head, I sighed, completely giving up. “I was trying to think of some extravagant date to take you on later this afternoon. And I know you said it feels like I am using moves when I do so, but I still want our time to be...memorable.”
“It isn’t already?”
“No, I mean...” Bloody hell of hells! “I’m having a lot of trouble this morning, apparently. I have no idea what is wrong with me.”
“Okay, while you are trying to figure it out, would you like to go to a poetry reading with me?” she asked and lifted a small, slightly crumpled flyer for me to see.
“A poetry reading?”
She nodded. “It’s in a small, independent bookstore. I don’t think many people will be there, so why not be among poets like yourself.”
I was thinking of scuba diving with exotic fishes, the symphony, flying off to some beach with blue waters, something magical, something extraordinary. And she wanted to go to a local bookstore to listen to poetry with me. I smiled, nodding as I took the flyer.
“Yes, I’d love to go. I think this is perfect.”
She might have been perfect, as well.
I felt bubbly—like someone had shaken up a can of pop and opened it inside my stomach. I’d never felt like this before, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it or how to make it stop.
I tried to concentrate on what was in front of me, which was a bookstore by the name of Once Upon A Time. Sadly, it was nothing like the cool, young poetry vibe I was hoping for. I knew it wouldn’t be the most eventful or popular spot in Seattle, but I didn’t expect it to be so dead. Well, at least as close to death as it was. In my mind, I had somehow convinced myself that it would be filled with people around our age, drinking coffee and wearing berets.
Instead, it looked more like a cross between a nursing home and a library. I looked at Gale to try to gauge his reaction to my slight failure of a spontaneous date. Thinking he must’ve thought scuba diving would’ve been a much better idea. However, to my surprise, he was smiling, looking up at the book stacks and the few elderly people walking through in amusement.
“What a perfectly named store,” he whispered to me.
“Huh?”
He leaned over and whispered, “The shelves have written stories, and the people have living ones.”
“Are you here for the poetry reading?” asked an elderly woman with pink-dyed hair and a wrinkled rose tattoo—at least what I thought was a rose—on her wrist as she approached with the help of a walking stick.
“Yes, we are,” Gale answered proudly, causing the woman to smile widely.
“Oh, good. We don’t get many young’uns in here anymore,” she said and pointed to the book at the desk. “Pick a poem and join us by the window.”
“Pick a poem?” I repeated.
“Yes, dear. We pick them from the stacks and then take turns reading. Anything you want is fine.”
“Thank you,” Gale stated, taking my hand, and I tried not to make a big deal out of it in my head again, but that didn’t work. I couldn’t help but think about how causally we just held hands now.
“Are you sure you are okay with this?” I whispered as we reached the first stack of books.
“Why would I not be,” he whispered back. “I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s very interesting. Are you not okay?”
I shook my head quickly. “I’m fine, it’s not what I was thinking, but it’s fine. But if you’re happy, I’m okay.”
“Is that so?” His eyebrow rose. “Careful, Ms. Wyntor, one might think you are trying to sweep me off my feet and not the other way around.”
I rolled my eyes and let go of his hand. “Go pick a poem.”
He chuckled, saying nothing as he turned back to glance through the shelves. And because I was...bubbly, I found myself watching him as he picked up a book and flipped through a few pages, every once in a while finding a verse or passage that caught his eye, and he stood still completely engrossed, the corner of his lips upturned happily.
“You’re staring, Odette.”
I nearly dropped the book I was reaching for. He hadn’t glanced up at me until that moment, looking through the shelves to see me.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I lied, looking away from him as I reached for a book in another row.
Of course, he followed me, leaning up beside me, a grin on his face as he spoke.
“Oh, whose starry eyes peer down upon me,
Black swan,
Young fawn,
Aborning, forewarning the morning dawn.”
I glanced over his arm to see if that was on the page or from his mind, but the book was in another language, so I couldn’t tell.
“Is that what it says?”
Instead of answering, he kissed my cheek and moved on to another bookshelf—and there went a can of bubbles. I took a breath and tried to ignore him.
But the harder I tried, the more...the more I wanted not to.
How had everything changed so quickly?
And how long could it stay like this?
The thing about stories that started with once upon a time was that they were never very simple or easy.
And that is what it felt like being with Gale right now. Simple and easy, and I wanted it to last for as long as possible. But how was that possible? It could be long.
He felt like a normal guy—most of the time.
But he was a prince.
A real-life prince.
“Have you two found one?” the elderly one asked, appearing almost out of thin air.
“I have, but my girlfriend has not, yet.”
My head whipped back to him, but he kept a straight face as he looked to her. “She is too busy admiring my handsome face.”
I gasped.
I shook my head. “I have one. Please ignore him.”
The woman laughed at us, and when she turned to tell the others that we were ready, I shoved my elbow into Gale’s arm.
“Girlfriend?”
“Would you prefer fiancée?”
“Gale.”
“Odette.”
I glared, and he winked, taking my hand into his again, leading me forward. And I followed...happily, bubbly.
Oh God, was this how it was to fall for so someone?
Chapter 22
“Is that your boyfriend?” a young boy, no more than eight or nine, asked her as she gave him the food basket. He pointed straight at me with his eyes narrowed as if I’d stolen from his Thanksgiving Day plate.
Odette glanced over her shoulder at me, looked me up and down once before shaking her head.
“No, I can do much better than him, don’t you think?” she asked him.
I scuffed as the boy nodded happily.
“Edgar. You forgot the cranberries. Edgar?”
“Huh?” I looked at the elderly woman beside me as she held the grocery bag open.
“The cranberries.” She pointed to the array of food in front of me, utterly annoyed at my presence—or lack of presence.
<
br /> “Right,” I said, putting the can into the bag for her.
She shook her head before taking the bag to the donation table. There was no Thanksgiving in Ersovia, but I’d seen the holiday in movies. So, when Odette had invited me to her family’s place to spend Thanksgiving with her, I thought I knew what to expect. But then she gave me a hairnet, gloves, a face mask, and to add to my disguise, Iskandar once again brought out fake glasses for me.
I didn’t argue. I was looking forward to my first Thanksgiving. However, this was nothing at all like the movies portrayed. There were hundreds of people here instead of a large table full of an overstuffed turkey. I was shocked to see how many of them were single women with children, or, worse, children with no parents at all.
Hundreds of canned and frozen foods were donated, and my current job was filling a bag, handing it to a volunteer, and then filling another bag. It should have been easy enough, but apparently, Thanksgiving meal bags were a bit more complicated than I thought. I was always forgetting a can of something, a box of something else, or putting all the somethings wrong in the bag, causing it to rip.
Rippppp.
Bloody hell. And there went another paper bag!
“Sorry,” I said to the volunteers who probably wished I would stop helping right now.
Bending down, I picked up all the cans and stacked them onto the table.
“Having trouble there?” Odette asked from above me, grinning.
“Yes, and I have no idea why! These bags must be defective!”
“Really, is that why you’re the only one with the issue?” she asked me.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t pout.” She giggled, poking my cheek before bending down to help me.
“Careful, Ms. Wyntor, you wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m your boyfriend or something,” I shot back at her as I rose to my feet.
“Jeremy has a little crush on me. I can’t go breaking a kid’s heart.”
“Ah, but my heart is okay?”
“I didn’t even scratch it. You’re fine, you big baby.” She put the cans onto the table. “Come on, let me show you. You have to make sure there is even weight on both sides, or you will rip one of the handles.”
“Does your family do this every year?” I asked her.
She nodded, putting the stuffing box down gently. “Since I can remember. Why? Are you not having fun?”
“Are we supposed to be having fun?” I asked, nodding over to the pregnant woman who was on her knee with two other children, crying over being given groceries. “These people—”
“Are the working poor,” she finished before I could speak. “Why are you so shocked? Don’t ro...doesn’t your family do charity work, too?”
“Not like this.”
“Like how, then?”
“Charity balls or garden parties. A few hospitals or veteran visits. We’re on a lot of boards, too. My mother goes for a woman’s mental health society meeting or something every year with my sister, as well.”
She just looked at me.
“What?”
“So other than the sick, you’ve never spent actual time with your people?” Her eyebrow rose, and even though she hadn’t said anything, a tone of disapproval was deep-seated in her voice and that raised eyebrow.
“Do give me that look. I am a spare. It’s not my job to do any more than what I already do.”
“Oh, it’s not your job to help...hmm.”
I truly did not like this conversation. “Well, tell me then, Mother Teresa, how often are you among the people?” I shot back.
“I volunteer at the Wyntor foodbank every weekend from Thanksgiving to Christmas. That’s how I know Jeremy.” She nodded to the boy, who was still giving me a death stare from his table with other children. “His foster mother brings him and the rest of the kids to stock up.”
“They let her be a foster mother in this country?” The woman looked like she needed more care than the children did. She had to be at least seventy, with gray, wispy hair and a breathing tube going into her nostrils.
“Yeah,” she muttered, filling the next bag. “It’s easier just not to think about it. My father used to say we are here to help, not to judge. It’s not like we are adopting or fostering anyone, so what can we say.”
“True,” I muttered, wondering for the first time what it was like for orphan children in Ersovia. I had no idea how that system worked or if it was any different from here. Well, it would be different from here. Americans were weird almost by necessity. Why they had to do everything differently was beyond me. Even the imperial system here was still confusing me, and I’d been here for weeks.
Rippppp.
“Are you kidding me?” I looked down at the ripped bag again.
“I think it’s you.” She laughed. “Your mind wanders off, and all of a sudden, you don’t realize you are overstuffing or pulling too hard.”
“It is honestly starting to feel demoralizing—”
“Odette?”
At the woman’s voice, she froze, her whole face dropping as she faced the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, skinny woman before us, dressed in a Wyntor Foundation T-shirt.
“Yvonne.” Odette nodded to her.
Where did I know that name?
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here after the women’s—”
“And yet, here I am.” Odette forced a smile, struggling. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here, either, on account of...well, your aversion to this side of town.”
Both women stared each other down, and for some reason, I heard the sound of two lions about to attack, even though it was silent. After far too long a silence, she turned to me. “And who is your friend?”
“Edgar—”
“He’s a volunteer I met here,” Odette lied, cutting me off before I could speak. Turning to me, she said, “Edgar, this is Yvonne. My half-sister’s mother.”
“Yes, stepmother, how do you do?” She outstretched her hand to me.
I wasn’t sure what to make of this situation, so I just nodded and shook her hand. “Well, thank you.”
“Where are you from? I pick up a slight accent?”
“Yvonne, we’re sort of busy here...you know, volunteering. If you’d like to help, there are hairnets and gloves in the back.”
I picked up another bag and began to pack.
“Right, keep up the good work,” she said, and before she stepped forward, she paused and looked back at Odette. “Odette, please answer Augusta’s call. You’re her big sister, so you should take the high road. You wouldn’t want her miserable because of a little misunderstanding.”
Now I was starting to see why this woman was clearly an enemy in Odette’s eyes. Odette inhaled deeply, glaring into the back of the woman before yanking up the bag.
Rippppp.
I snorted, trying to hold back my laugh.
“I think you’re right. We should invest in better bags before Christmas,” she muttered, bending down to pick up everything.
Bending to help her, I asked, “So, you have real-life evil stepmother problems?” I asked.
She looked at me for a moment and just laughed. “Apparently. Are you going to come in on a white horse and save me?”
“Would you let me?”
She shrugged. “How good are you at rescues?”
“I’m sure I can handle it.”
“Odette!”
Both of us jumped at the sound of Jeremy, who poked his head over the table to stare down at us. I couldn’t help it, I glared. This kid was something else. Did he fly over the tables to get here? Had he been watching this whole time? How deep was this little crush?
“How can I help you, Jeremy?” Odette asked, standing taller, her voice sweet. Wasn’t she annoyed?
“Will you play Uno with us?” he nearly begged.
“Sure, come on.” She outstretched her hand to him.
“What happened to volunteering?” I asked as she left me, literally, holding the bag.
Sh
e just winked at me.
“Are you jealous of a kid, sir?” Wolfgang questioned, coming up beside me almost out of thin air.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“And by that, he means yes,” Iskandar muttered, handing off his perfect bag to the volunteer who came to grab it. She frowned, looking at the bag in my hand.
“This one was Odette’s,” I said quickly, but she didn’t seem to believe me, which only made Wolfgang chuckle.
“Shut up.”
“Yes, sir.”
I tried to focus on my work, but I found my eyes drifting back toward Odette. She sat surrounded by children, completely at ease, laughing and playing alongside them. In fact, she was even more animated than they were, doing a little dance when she threw down a card. I wasn’t used to seeing her like this.
She had so many different sides to her.
Each day, she showed me a new one.
Since officially starting this romance of ours, I’d found out she actually loved to dance, and when I said dance, I meant, jump up and hop onto the couch, whip her head in every direction, air guitar solo, dance. She loved anything sweet but fought with herself not to eat it. Apparently, her mother traumatized her as a child with all the lectures she got. She could be loud and carefree one moment, and the next, she was huddled on the couch, barely saying a word, just watching the rain while drinking hot chocolate. Each and every time, I found myself watching her instead of anything else.
Even after days of just talking and talking and still talking, we found more to talk about, to laugh about. I was so used to having Odette beside me now that it was a little odd when she wasn’t there anymore.
Wait—was this love?
I hadn’t even known her for a month.
I couldn’t be in love yet.
Right? Right!
“Sir. Sir?”
“Hmm?” I looked at Wolfgang.
“If you already have something planned, I think we should be aware of it. We are cutting it a bit close,” Wolfgang stated, though I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Planned?”
“Odette’s birthday tomorrow?”
“That’s tomorrow!”
Rippppp.
I waved to Jeremy—a little bit relieved—as he and his foster family left. That was wrong, wasn’t it? But truthfully, I sort of couldn’t wait for the whole day to be over, simply because I wanted to go back and hide away with Gale.