Make Me Believe

by Karen Ferry

  “What’s your name?” I ask the man.

  He narrows his eyes at me, unwilling to answer, but then he coughs and says, “Carl.”

  I nod and reach out my hand to him. “I’m Daniel.”

  Carl hesitates for a couple of seconds, but just as I think that he won’t shake my hand, his right one reaches to mine, and he grips it.

  His grip is firm. Not what I expected.

  “Hi, Daniel,” he says, his voice gruff. Maybe he doesn’t speak much?

  We nod at each other, and I loosen my hold from his before standing up. Seeing the confusion in his eyes, I quickly pull out my wallet, grab a couple of notes, and hand them to him.

  “Nice to meet you, Carl,” I say, patiently waiting for him to take the money. When he doesn’t, but merely keeps looking confused, I bend down on my knees and put them in the small tin canister in front of him.

  Just before I move to straighten up again, my eyes meet his, and the shock I see in them embarrasses me.

  “I hope you have a good day,” I say quickly, and then walk away from him. I haven’t moved more than a few paces before I hear a quiet, but heartfelt, “Thank You” behind me. I half-turn my head and nod, acknowledging him, but I don’t slow down. I look down as I move closer to Emma, and once I’m standing next to her, I sense her gaze lingering on me. Crossing my arms, I ignore her and stare straight ahead, my jaw clenched.

  “How much did you give him?” she asks me quietly.

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. He needs the money more than I do.”

  “It matters a lot to him,” she replies, but I don’t answer. What is there to say, anyway? There’s a part of me that wants to satisfy her need for answers . . . but I’m still feeling rather embarrassed. I don’t want Emma to think that the gesture I just did was more than it was: one human being kind to another . . . to one less fortunate in life than me.

  Silence descends on us again, and I’m glad that’s the case. I don’t want to answer all her questions right now. Even though it feels as if they’re screaming at me, demanding me to pay attention.

  Chapter 14

  Thoughts run wild inside my head as Daniel and I leave the train and walk towards the bookshop. This boy puzzles me more and more, and even though a small part of me -- the cynical part -- scoffs at the gesture Daniel just showed to that homeless guy, another part of me is going all soft and gooey. And that’s the part of me that I need to watch out for; it doesn’t matter how attracted I am to him. I have to remain firm and stand my ground, keeping emotionally detached.

  Because if I don’t, and we end up becoming involved -- as in, dating each other -- I have a feeling that when I share all of me with him the disgust on his face will break me. Yes, here’s a guy who will have that kind of power over me. And I won’t risk my heart. I have to remember to keep it under lock and key.

  A particular calm settles over me when we draw nearer to the shop. It always has that effect on me, because I feel safe here: I’ll be at work, and no one is able to tell anything about me for as long as I’m here. There’ll definitely not be any uncomfortable questions for me to answer. Here, I’m simply an employee, and, at the end of the day, the goal is to keep the customers walking away happy and satisfied with their purchases. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s simple, really.

  I have a feeling, though, that today won’t be like that because of Daniel.

  Mentally shaking my head, I open the door and call out, “Hi, Mr. Andersen.” Checking the clock on the wall above the desk, I sigh quietly in relief. Five minutes before we officially open. We made it.

  Mr. Andersen looks up from the till and smiles warmly at us. “Emma, Daniel . . . hi. Daniel, are you ready for your first day?” he asks him eagerly. It’s nice to see him so enthusiastic about the fact that he now has two young people instead of just me, but it’s still strange he didn’t tell me about Daniel being my new neighbor before I left on Saturday.

  I quickly look at Daniel who smiles and nods at his uncle and I walk closer to my boss.

  “Mr. Andersen, I’m sure you’re aware of Daniel asking me to be his tutor, and you should know that I’ve said yes.” I hesitate but find my courage when Mr. Andersen just keeps smiling at us. “However, I don’t feel comfortable being paid as if I were here full time when, in fact, I won’t be. So we need to work on our schedules.”

  “Now, Emma . . . ,” Mr. Andersen begins, but I don’t let him finish.

  “I’m sorry, Sir, but it just doesn’t sit well with me,” I try to explain, straightening my back.

  Mr. Andersen frowns for a while, but finally relents. “Alright, Emma. Why don’t the two of you have a chat about it and then let me know your decision by the end of today?”

  I smile, relieved, and answer, “Thank you. We will.”

  A bit of an awkward silence descends, and I’m not entirely sure why that is. Maybe it’s just me, so I turn to Daniel.

  “Ready to get started?” I ask him expectantly.

  I can’t quite understand the closed-off expression on his face, but at least he answers me, saying, “Sure.”

  “Let’s get our things put away, and I’ll show you around, then?” I continue, and he nods. Turning back to Mr. Andersen, I say, “We’ll be out in a few.”

  He picks up a stack of books. “You know Mondays are usually pretty quiet, Emma, so take your time. I’ll call out for you if I suddenly find the shop filled with customers, all here to be guided to the lands of glory,” he answers brightly, and I laugh.

  “Right,” I chuckle, and leave him with his books. Daniel follows closely behind me, and I really need to talk to him about the appropriate kind of space the rest of us prefer to have around people, but I hold my tongue. Usually, it bothers me to no end when people can’t seem to understand that standing too close to another human being is far from polite, but, somehow, feeling Daniel’s warmth behind me isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s because of the delicious manly scent I can smell; it’s hard to define, but it’s kind of woodsy and warm . . . comforting, I suppose.

  Maybe it’s just your hormones running amok, the small voice inside admonishes me, but I ignore it. I prefer my other theory.

  Opening the door to the back room, I say, “Okay, this is off-limits to all customers. Well, you already know that, of course.” I walk the few steps along the narrow entrance before it opens up to the small room. I point to the left, and explain, “As you can see, we have a small kitchenette here where we can make a pot of coffee or tea whenever we feel like it. There’s also a small refrigerator for our lunches or . . . you know, whatever.” I walk to the round table standing at the end of the room with four chairs surrounding it, and after I’ve put down my clutch, I look over my shoulder to find Daniel perusing the small bookshelf situated on the far right wall.

  “Sometimes, publishers send us an early printed copy of future releases so that we can read them and decide if we want to feature it in the shop. It’s a nice benefit, really. It also gives us the chance to service our customers better,” I explain when I see him holding a copy of the highly famous -- and notorious -- “Fifty Shades of Grey” by E. L. James, and he looks up at me, a small smile on his lips.

  “I didn’t know my uncle read romance novels,” he murmurs, before he puts the book back on the shelf.

  I hesitate but then blurt out, “He doesn’t. I do.” Seeing the question in his eyes, I amend, “Well, sometimes I do. I may not be a romantic as such, but I do like reading about it from time to time. Fantasy and historical thrillers are what I prefer, though.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  Avoiding his gaze, I look down and pull out my keys from my clutch, pretending to find the right one to my small compartment.

  “Hmm,” Daniel muses, but I still don’t look up. I feel embarrassed, when, in fact, there’s no reason to be. Everyone needs a bit of romance in their lives. I just prefer to keep it in the fictional world instead of the real one. It’s nice reading about true love, the strife the character
s in books go through in order to get their happy-ever-afters when the actual reality is that people rarely find it -- and then keep it -- in this modern day and age.

  “I can’t say I’ve read many romance novels,” Daniel’s voice breaks through my inner musings. “But at least now I know who to ask if I want some recommendations.”

  Hearing the teasing note in his voice, I narrow my eyes before raising my head to glare at hm. “Well, I’ll ask my friend Suzy: she’s a romance addict.”

  “Mm-hmm . . . ,” he simply hums, but I don’t take the bait.

  “Okay, we leave our bags, and whatever else we want to, here and have a key to lock it. You never know if anyone wants to try their hand at shop lifting,” I tell him and gesture at the ugly, white closet taking up the most of the wall to the left. I shrug. “It’s not exactly a beauty to look at, but at least our things aren’t easy to steal.” Reaching my right arm towards him, I continue, “Give me your backpack and I’ll get our things locked away.”

  Daniels does as I ask, and after it’s taken care of, I put my keys in my right back pocket. “Right then. I’ll give a tour of the shop.” I smile reassuringly at him, and he walks closer to me. So close that I have to tilt my head back to keep my eyes on his. What is he doing now?

  His face moves closer, and I widen my eyes, surprised by his bold move.

  “Please go easy on me,” he finally says, and I cannot overlook the nervousness emanating from his body. He’s wound so tight I am pretty sure that one false movement will make him explode. In what way, I don’t entirely know, but I don’t want his first day here to be a bad one. Surprisingly, despite the fact I don’t really know him yet, I’m beginning to realise how important this is for him. I want to see him succeed, and I will do what I can to help him.

  “Don’t worry,” I answer quietly. “I don’t bite.” Well, not if people don’t want me to, but I don’t voice that little tidbit of information out loud.

  Daniel takes a deep breath, holds it for a couple of seconds, before finally releasing it.

  “Good,” he says and nods once. “Then please lead the way, Miss,” he says, and holds out his left arm towards the door to the shop, indicating that I should go first.

  “My, my, my, I’m quite impressed with your gentlemanly manners,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood, and it seems to work, because he chuckles. Warmth spreads in my body, because when he does that? His eyes get a certain twinkle in them, and I find that I’m almost unable to resist the pull of them. Almost.

  As I turn to leave the room, he mutters, “Yeah. That’s what they all say . . . ”

  My step falters, but I pretend to ignore what I just heard. My curiosity is piqued, though: who are they? I don’t have time to ask him, so I decide to let it go for the rest of the day. I’m quite sure, however, that I won’t be able to keep my stupid mouth from doing just that at some point. And soon.

  Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I never followed the rules, anyway. Why start now?

  It’s been a few hours, and Daniel seems to be happy about working at the shop. Well, it’s hard to tell, really, because, as usual, he doesn’t say much. I’m starting to get used to it, though, and it’s quite nice. The fact that he isn’t a chatterbox but only speaks when he has something he feels is important to say relaxes me, actually. I’d like to know what goes on inside his head, though, because he may not say much, but that doesn’t mean he hides his emotions; he’s like an open book. When I showed him the bookshelf with all the classical literature, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and it was difficult to pry him away from them. I have to admit that seeing this made my lady bits tingle a bit.

  Yes, guys who love books are, apparently, also quite a turn-on for me. Who knew?

  It’s getting close to lunchtime, and I’m trying to come up with some sort of excuse about why we shouldn’t have lunch together when Mr. Andersen unknowingly comes to my rescue.

  “Daniel, what do you say the two of us go over the business side of the shop while Emma takes her lunch break?” he asks Daniel from the front desk.

  Daniel’s sitting in one of the armchairs, his nose stuck in a book, and I can’t stop my lips from pulling up in a smile. He looks so cute. Hang on: I don’t do cute, do I?

  Mr. Andersen frowns, and repeats, “Daniel?”

  Still no reply. Wow, that boy definitely knows how to keep the world from interrupting when he’s absorbed. Shaking my head, I walk to him and tap his shoulder with my right index finger. He jumps, and I snort.

  “What?” he asks, looking from side to side before tilting his head back to find me standing behind him looking down.

  I smirk. “Your uncle asked you a question, Daniel. Don’t you know it’s rude not to respond?” I ask him teasingly.

  Half turning in his seat, he looks around my body covering his view, and he apologises, “Sorry, Prof, I got lost in a book.” His ears are turning red, and seeing that, my stomach does a scary flip. My body seems more and more eager to get to know Daniel on a more intimate level, but that wouldn’t be wise of me. I can’t deny, though, that experiencing these feelings -- no matter how much they unnerve me -- is kind of uplifting.

  It gives me hope that maybe, one day, I will no longer be so afraid of intimacy.

  “No worries, it happens to us all,” Mr. Andersen beams at him. He’s been quite chipper today, and I’m guessing it has a lot to do with Daniel being here.

  “What did you say?” Daniels asks him and stands.

  “I merely suggested that we should let Emma take her break now and go over a few of the business things being a bookshop owner entail,” Mr. Andersen replies.

  Nodding, Daniel answers, “Sure,” and, giving me a small smile, he walks to the front desk, the book he was so absorbed in tucked to his side. I tilt my head a bit, trying to see the title, but his hand and fingers cover most of it, and I can’t make it out. I’ll have to ask him later.

  “I’ll just grab my purse, and then I’ll be off,” I say to them and move quickly to the back room. I hurry to unlock the door and head inside to do just that. Opening the closet to retrieve my purse, I can’t ignore the butterflies erupting in my stomach. Quickly scanning the contents, I find the folded note I wrote last night, and a sense of dread overcomes me.

  I can’t avoid it anymore. Inside that piece of paper may lay the answer to fixing me . . .

  Satisfied, and, strangely enough, feeling less anxious of what I am about to do, I close the closet doors, lock them, and leave the room. Walking quickly to the entrance, I glance at the two men, and, when Daniel looks up from some papers lying on the desk, frowning, I give him a small wave, but I don’t stop.

  I don’t have time.

  If I stop, I’ll chicken out, and I mustn’t do that.

  I have an appointment with a psychologist to make.

  Chapter 15

  Setting up the appointment with the psychologist -- one Katherine McGregor -- was easier than I thought it would be. And yes, I like the fact that, based on the name alone, I will be pouring out my thoughts, my life, really, to someone who seems to be British. That’ll probably make it easier for me. I hope. Seeing as it’s the summer holiday for many, she is able to fit me in for later this week.

  Shite. I’m really doing this.

  Well, I have to. If I don’t, I’m pretty sure the nightmares will end up taking over my life completely, and I can’t say I’ll enjoy that. I won’t like having to spill my secrets to a complete stranger, either, but maybe I’ll feel differently once I get started. One can only hope that she’ll be able to help me.

  And if she can’t? Well, then I guess that’s that.

  Walking back to the bookshop with a small skip to my steps, I can’t deny that taking this first step is a relief. I guess I should thank Suzy for that. Munching on a sandwich, I sit down on a nearby bench and pull out my phone to do just that.

  Me: You’re the best friend ever. xxx

  It doesn’t take long for her to respond.
r />   Suzy: Not that I would ever disagree with that sentiment, but what brought this on? xx

  Me: I did like you asked: I have a meeting with a psychologist this week . . . x

  She doesn’t text back right away, but I can’t really say I’m surprised by that. Checking the clock on my phone, I quickly eat the rest of my lunch before I have to head back to work. Finally, I see the screen on my phone light up with a new text.

  Suzy: I’m glad. And maybe, once you’ve had a few sessions, you’ll stop avoiding your issues and talk to me as well. ;-) x

  I smile. How can I not?

  Me: I promise I will. Got to get back to work now, lovely. TTYL. xx

  As I finish typing my last text, I realise how frustrating it must be for Suzy to be my friend sometimes. For her to stick around, to keep from asking me any sort of questions about my past must be more than a little annoying, and I resolve to ask her out for dinner soon.

  All sorts of emotions seem to wage war inside me: anger, trepidation, relief, fear, all leaving me unsure about how to handle them, so I stop a little distance from the bookshop to put myself together; I take a few deep breaths, let them out slowly, and shake my head. I have to get a grip before seeing Mr. Andersen and Daniel again.

  The sound of a new text message distracts me and I quickly open it and smile when I see Suzy’s sent me a big heart emoticon with the words I love you -- Always & Forever xx on it.

  “Damn it,” I mutter, and quickly put my phone back in my clutch. I don’t need more of that touchy-feely stuff right now. But seeing and reading these texts warm my heart. Why that girl is still single, I will never know. She has the biggest heart in the world.

  Grabbing the door handle, I push it open and walk inside my favourite place in the world, ready to face whatever the rest of the day has to offer once again. Satisfied to see quite a lot of customers, I hurry to the staff room to get rid of my things and back outside to help Daniel.