by Harper Bliss
When she did finally arrive, at the exact time Mia had known she would on a Tuesday—Lou and Amber were like clockwork—Mia couldn’t stifle a smile. She didn’t think twice about how her smile could be interpreted. Whether Lou would take it as a sneer that wasn’t one, or it would throw her back to when she was seventeen. Mia was too fired up by her plans to pay attention to any of that, and was ready to shed the cloak of extreme prudence she had donned around Lou for the past few weeks.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked, after having poured Lou a strong cup of coffee—she knew how she liked it by now, strong and black, just as Mia did. “It’s about Annie’s.”
Lou responded almost like any other person would. Not like Mia’s former victim, always something flighty about her, an invisible shield of caution drawn up around her. At the mention of Annie’s name, Lou’s face actually lit up a fraction.
They sat down and, for the shortest of instances, Mia’s eyes were glued to the glossy skin of Lou’s upper arm.
“The Pink Bean wants a Newtown location. Annie needs something to inject new life into her business,” Mia heard herself say, although it felt entirely different to be explaining this to Lou than to her bosses or even to Jo. To talk to Lou in this manner, without their past standing between them, was liberating—perhaps even a touch exhilarating. Having to cower under Lou’s glance every single day, having to express through her body language how sorry she was—because she wasn’t allowed to say it in words—had been exhausting.
This conversation with Lou was the most relaxed interaction they’d had since Lou had confronted her. Therefore, Mia allowed her glance to drift to Lou’s shoulder line a few times more, allowed herself to be astounded by the magic hue of her skin, by the sheer aliveness in her eyes that grew bolder as Mia reached the end of her pitch.
“You know Annie well. Do you think she would be interested?”
“It definitely beats having to sell, which she is seriously considering, even though it would break her heart.” Lou’s demeanor was much more at ease as well. As if the common goal that had sprouted between them had taken away most of the tension, at least as long as this conversation lasted—which was why Mia didn’t want it to end. She hoped the Pink Bean wouldn’t suddenly be flooded with customers and she would have to rush behind the counter to help out Jo. Sitting here with Lou, their minds churning over the same bits of information and working toward a common aim, made her feel better than she had in long, nervy, self-effacing weeks.
Then another idea hit Mia. “I’m going to have a chat with her very soon. Would you like to come?” Lou arched up her eyebrows. “Only if you think that would be a good idea, of course.” Mia was sure that having Lou by her side would help to put Annie at ease, but she wasn’t sure whether she wasn’t also asking Lou to join her because this refreshing moment of détente between them felt so good.
“I do think it’s a good idea. The whole thing is a stroke of brilliance.” Lou looked Mia in the eye for a second, as if she was trying to find the old Mia in there, trying to gauge whether that younger version of Mia still existed.
“Thanks. It’s really not that brilliant. It’s pretty straightforward, actually.”
“Don’t be so humble, Mia,” Lou said. “It really doesn’t suit you.” She flashed a smile.
Was she cracking jokes now? Mia smiled back. Maybe she should go to a yoga class one of these days. See what Lou was like in front of a bunch of people in downward-facing dog.
“Should we make an appointment or just stop by?” Mia asked.
“I’ll call her,” Lou said. “I think it better to not just barge in. And her wife, Jane, should probably be there as well.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Mia leaned back in her chair. “Any afternoon or evening this week is fine with me.”
Lou looked as though she had just swallowed a joke. There was a glint of mischief in her eye that retreated as soon as it had shown up. “I’ll let you know.” She pushed her chair back. “Should I send you a message on Tinder or are you giving me your number?”
Mia suppressed a chuckle. “You’d have to swipe right first before you could message me on there.” She looked around for a stray napkin, but couldn’t find one.
“Ah, yes.” Lou’s relaxed, jokey mood seemed to be fading fast.
“Just a sec.” Mia headed to the counter, found a piece of paper, and then proceeded to do something she had never believed would happen. She gave Louise Hamilton her number.
“It used to be that the bookshop was our livelihood and made up for the money I didn’t earn with my books,” Jane said. “These days, things are rather different.”
All four of them were having coffee at The Larder and Mia was quickly realizing that the person she would be negotiating with would not necessarily be Annie, but Jane.
“Ironically, monthly digital book sales of Jane’s books are much higher than what we sell in the shop. We have so many authors on offer, but everyone wants to read on their Kindle or phone these days.”
“Not everyone,” Lou said. “I only ever read on paper.”
“Paper books will always remain, but it’s a reality that e-books are quickly catching up. I’m just as guilty as the next person. My wife runs a bookshop, yet I’m reading more and more on Kindle.”
This sparked another idea in Mia’s brain, but she would talk about what she had come here for first.
“I’m an all paper girl,” Mia said.
“Oh, I know that,” Annie said. “You must have quite the collection by now.” She winked at Mia.
“I do. I love books and I love bookshops like yours. They offer something that the big chains can’t. The number of books Annie has personally recommended to me, and the hours of joy she has provided me because of them. There’s just something about the vibe of an indie store like Annie’s. When you walk in, you immediately feel like you’ll be taken care of. It’s also a haven, a place away from modern technology. No phones, no tweets—only prose. I want this shop to go on forever.” Mia threw in a smile. She glanced at Lou for a second and saw her looking back with an amused expression on her face.
“Your passion is admirable,” Jane said. “And we feel exactly the way you do, but unfortunately not enough people have the same kind of passion for bookshops. They come in and run their fingers over the spines for the sensation of having an actual book in their hands, but nine times out of ten it’s more an act of nostalgia than a reason to purchase. People don’t buy anymore. Just the other week, we had a day with no sales. Zero. Nobody in Newtown needed a book that day. Isn’t that sad?”
“Or they got it at Pages,” Annie said wryly.
“Have you ever thought about serving coffee in the shop?” Mia cut straight to the chase.
Jane didn’t seem the least bit surprised by this suggestion. “Of course we have. Everyone is doing it these days, but, in reality, it would be another investment in something we’re not sure we can make work. Buy one of those expensive machines because no one would be caught dead anymore drinking a simple filter coffee, of course. Oh no. And Annie would be spending her time making coffee for people.”
“It has never really been my goal in life,” Annie said. “I know I’m a bit of a dreamer, and it’s coming to catch up with me now, but I’ve always run the shop on expertise and careful curation. Up to five years ago, people actually came in to see what I had selected as book of the week, and they bought it. Books are my pride and joy. Fancy hot beverages not so much. And it’s not as though I don’t want to adapt to save the business, it’s just that we’ve had to ask ourselves whether it would really be worth it, at our age, you know? I think we’ve come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t. Not really.”
“What if someone else took care of all of that for you?” Mia asked.
“How do you mean?” Annie asked.
“The coffee shop where I work in Darlinghurst, the Pink Bean, is looking to open a branch in Newtown. We thought about your shop. It could become a very appe
aling mixture of coffee shop and independent, curated bookshop. A destination, where one business feeds off the other.”
Jane narrowed her eyes, but didn’t immediately say anything. Annie straightened her posture, cocked her head, examined Mia’s face. “Are you pulling our leg? Why would you make us such an offer? What’s really in it for you?” She seemed to have her hackles up—perhaps because she had been made to listen to similar offers one time too many.
“What Mia is saying,” Lou said, “is that we all want for this bookshop to stay in business.”
“We? Who is this we you’re talking about?” Jane’s tone was milder, yet very inquisitive.
“All of us at the Pink Bean,” Mia said.
“And me. And Mom and Dad. All your friends,” Lou was quick to add.
“As for what’s in it for the Pink Bean: a wonderful location that can be much more than just a coffee shop. Which is exactly what we’re trying to make of the first Pink Bean as well. We’re already doing evening events in that one. But this place offers a whole other set of possibilities. And, well, I probably don’t need to tell you this.” Mia held up her coffee cup. “Coffee sells. It’s black gold. People spend much more on coffee than on books these days. In fact, they’d happily buy a latte with all the trimmings that is gone from their lives in a matter of minutes, than a book that will give them hours of reading pleasure. That’s what the world is like these days.”
“Don’t I know it. Some of my e-books cost less than a cup of coffee, and people still have the audacity to complain that prices are too high,” Jane said.
“It’s all a matter of perception,” Mia said. “But what if you could benefit from this, admittedly, somewhat skewed perception in people’s minds?”
“How do you see this working in a practical sense?” Jane asked.
Mia explained the possibilities, which all came down to one thing: a shared space containing Annie’s Bookshop and the second Pink Bean branch.
“Please feel free to think about this as long as you like. I will also happily put you in touch with the Pink Bean owners, Kristin and Sheryl. This was just an exploratory conversation, a pitch made by two friendly faces, although Kristin and Sheryl are plenty friendly themselves.”
“And just so you know,” Lou said, coming to Mia’s rescue again, enhancing her presentation, “the Pink Bean is a gay-friendly place. It would mesh well with what you’ve always tried to do here. Because it always pisses me off when I do end up at Pages that they don’t have an LGBT section. Not even in their big branch in the CBD. I think it’s important.”
“Because that’s not where the money is,” Jane said. “I should know.”
Mia made a mental note to read one of Jane’s books. She had seen them in the shop, but Annie—perhaps out of false modesty regarding her wife—had never recommended them.
“It’s still important,” Annie said. “I agree with you on that.”
“Remember when you gave me The Well of Loneliness when I was eighteen?” Lou asked Annie. “That meant so much to me. Especially then.”
“The good old days, when teenagers came to bookshops and accepted the owner’s recommendations.” She moved her hand across the table and cupped Lou’s in hers. “Of course, you were always much more to me than just a teenager.”
Mia tried to ignore the throwback to Lou’s teenage years. She could only hope Lou had found some comfort in the books Annie had given her, not only regarding her burgeoning lesbianism, but also regarding other, more pressing and painful matters at the time.
“We certainly have a lot to think about,” Jane said. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
They said their goodbyes and when they stood outside Mia suddenly didn’t know what to do. Should she ask Lou for a drink to discuss the meeting? They had taken a taxi from Darlinghurst earlier, but Mia was not going back in that direction.
“So you live near here?” Lou asked.
“Yes. Just a few blocks that way,” she pointed to their left. “Very glamorously above a fish and chip shop.”
“Really? That must be a temptation after you come home from a boozy night out.”
Mia chuckled and before she had a chance to reply, Lou said, “I’d better go,” and started looking around for a taxi.
“Thanks for doing this,” Mia said, seeing the chance of asking Lou for a quick drink slip through her fingers. Perhaps it was too soon. Perhaps this was all she could ever hope for and there would always be a wall between them. “You know them best. Do you think they’ll go for it?”
“I learned to stop predicting people’s behavior and decisions a long time ago,” Lou said matter-of-factly, and whether this was an intentional jibe at Mia or not, it still hit her straight in the gut. “We’ll see.”
A taxi pulled up, Lou gave her a quick wave good-bye, and disappeared into the falling darkness.
Chapter Seventeen
The day after the meeting with Annie and Jane, after which Lou had dashed off in a taxi even though she might have said yes if Mia had asked her for a post-meeting drink, Lou asked Micky if they could have a private chat. If she’d had the opportunity to talk to Micky, and to find out what she knew about Mia that Lou didn’t, she might have been inclined to hang out in Newtown longer last night, but she needed to know first. She needed to know now.
Between Lou’s last afternoon class and her evening one, they ended up at a bar. Wine for Micky, sparkling water for Lou.
“I don’t really know how to broach this topic,” Lou said, “without just blurting it out.” She couldn’t quite meet Micky’s gaze. There was something so vulnerable about making eye contact with someone of whom she suspected she knew all about what happened to her as a teenager. Lou had been uneasy around Micky since Amber had suggested Lou talk to her, and it had been surprisingly hard to bring herself to ask the question. But last night’s stint in Newtown had urged her on. “I know Mia has told you something about our, er, past. And I would like to know what.”
Instant pity in Micky’s glance. Great. Lou was not after pity. She just wanted information.
Micky cleared her throat. “She told me she bullied you during your last year in high school. That there are no excuses for her behavior and that she’s very ashamed of the person she was back then.”
“That’s it?” Lou could hardly believe that was all Micky knew. These were just the simple facts. This was not information Amber would urge her to obtain from Micky.
“That’s all I can tell you,” Micky said, “without breaking Mia’s trust.”
“But you understand the reasons why I would want to know?”
“Of course I do, Lou. And I want you to know. But she explicitly asked me not to tell you because she doesn’t want her behavior to be excused. And she certainly doesn’t want me to make excuses for her.”
Lou scoffed. “That’s because it can’t be excused.”
“I don’t entirely agree.” Micky sipped her wine. One sip clearly wasn’t enough, because she quickly sipped again. “I don’t want to underestimate your suffering and the impact of bullying. And I realize even having this conversation is like skating on thin ice, but I appreciate both you and Mia very much. You are two kind, considerate, thoughtful people with your heads screwed on right. Daughters any mother would be proud of. No matter what happened in the past.” She paused. “It happened a long time ago, Lou. And the Mia you knew then, I dare to guess, is nothing like the person we’ve all gotten to know over the past few weeks.”
“Oh yes, Mia the saint. The new girl on the block no one can get enough of or heap enough praise on. I’m starting to get sick of all of that.”
“I understand that. I truly do. And I was shocked when Mia told me, but I was also surprised by her candor, by her willingness to tell me about that ugly part of her life, of herself. She was a teenager back then, just like you. Someone trying to come to grips with a life that was often hard.”
“Yes, well, that’s not really something I can take into consideration. W
hat she did decimated me. Incapacitated me for too long, because even if it was only for a while in my teens, it was still too long for me. An entire school year, Micky. She waited for me for ten months. She went out of her way so she could bully me, call me names, make me feel so small I just wanted to disappear.”
“I know. And I’m so sorry that happened to you. But that was a different Mia.”
“I don’t understand why she told you.”
“She told me because I asked. Because it’s so obvious that there is bad blood between you. Remember that night at Martha’s when you and Amber tried to pretend she didn’t exist? Amber tells me everything, and suddenly she was so harsh on Mia, telling me to not bring her into Glow anymore, even though she was helping us. That set off quite a few alarm bells. I asked Mia, and she told me. And I’m sorry that I can’t tell you more, but I will tell you this: Mia has suffered too because of this. And I’m not saying you can compare the two, or that her suffering equals yours, because that’s a losing game from the get-go if we’re going to start comparing, but life is more complicated, and people are more complex than the mean teenagers we see them as sometimes.”
“And what am I supposed to do with this information? Amber urged me to talk to you about this, but I’m really none the wiser.”
Micky filled her cheeks with air, then let the air seep out of her mouth slowly. “There’s only one thing you can do, Lou.” She tilted her head. “Talk to her about it.”
“If only that wasn’t the very last thing on my agenda.”
“You’ve been getting on better lately, haven’t you?”
“Getting on? I’ve been tolerating her because she’s helping out my mother’s friend.” Lou finally looked Micky in the eye. “And you, us, the studio. But I don’t want to talk to her. Not about any of that. We had our conversation. I confronted her. I can be civilized to her, but that’s it.”
“And that’s the part I don’t believe,” Micky said. “We wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation if that was all you wanted. You wouldn’t have talked to Amber about her if you didn’t have an urge to truly put this behind you. I think the only way you can even begin to do so, now that you’ve come face-to-face with her again, is by having a conversation. Not a confrontation, but an open talk, where both parties get to say their piece.”