Right Where You Left Me | Reiner Braun

Chapter 4 - In a Blink

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Every day after that one, Reiner had visited me at the bookstore. He offered to meet me when I got off work at Hudson Lane, but I told him that I would rather him not be seen there, for people would be talking- and people talking ruins everything. My friendship with him was like that glade he brought me to on the first fall of snow- better left unadulterated by the eyes of the world.

Reiner would bring food to the bookstore, so we could all eat up at the second floor, the three of us- me, him, and sweet, grumpy old Mr. Pascal. He hasn't suspected a thing between me and the guy he calls Blonde Giant. Because somehow we had learned to put that remarkable evening behind the two of us, without shrouding what we had learned about each other.

I learned that there was a sadness in him that was lurking, like a hurricane in the making. Perhaps he had learned that I was the same. But I wasn't the hurricane. I was the ruins left by it, the mark of a same kind of storm that ravaged my city that did not even get the chance to grow.

Eventually, Reiner and I became friends. And good ones at that.

He had determined what Mr. Pascal liked the first week where he spent five consecutive days at the shop, like a cipher of some ancient code. It took me four years to know Mr. Pascal's reference in food, but it took Reiner four days.

But still, the easiest way to Mr. Pascal's heart was not through his stomach, but through his mind. So calculating and complicated, like cogs in a clock tower. And Reiner wasn't doing very well at that.

"You need to read more books, boy." Mr. Pascal groaned, making Reiner look a bit sheepish for a man his size. We were just done having lunch, and the cloudy afternoon sunshine showered the room upstairs with a wintry glow.

"Look at my lass here- Eden- she's memorized every poem from Lumiere, and she's read a lot from Montblanc to Cassidy." Mr. Pascal continued his chastising. "Do you know how far literature gets you?"

By the quick glance of guilt Reiner shot me to the side, I knew he just stopped himself from making an offensive joke by a thin thread. I suppressed a snicker, turning to the side. His chuckle almost rolled out.

"What's funny?!" Mr. Pascal growled from in front of us at the lunch table. "What are you laughing at, child?"

"Nothing, sir." Reiner said, still trying not to grin, so I looked away and covered my mouth with the back of my hand. He'd tapped me on my thigh from under the table, as if telling me, 'Dude, stop it!'

"Ah, I know what you both are thinking, you young people and your telepathic communication through those modern-day eyeballs..." Mr. Pascal grumbled, pointing his arthritic finger at us. "You think literature is foolish, no? Look where it got this old man reprimanding me for not reading? I should tell you, if it weren't for my crippling age, I'd have become successful in my enterprise. I started late. And your little adventures cannot compare to the worlds I've been to because of books."

"No doubt about that, sir." Reiner cleared his throat, nodding politely. I had tried to simmer down.

"You understand, but you don't agree." Mr. Pascal noted sternly. "The importance of reading is not a debate, Braun."

"No it's not, sir."

"And it seems to me you haven't picked up a book all your sad, miserable life- sentenced to thirteen years to live after inheriting your titan, and having to spend all that time following demands from people you could easily crush like a fly." The old man groaned on, the stinging tone to his voice making me gasp softly. My surprised eyes shot to an even more surprised Reiner, caught off-guard that Mr. Pascal had just talked so bluntly to him. We exchanged a glance and laughed.