- FALL 2009 -
"How do you expect your parents to make profit if you eat all the strawberries?" He perched the milk crate over his hip. He made a point of not needing a bag for his weekly restock of goods to take back home and that the crate had enough room for what he needed.
I pop the stem off my mouth and place it in the cup I'd been using to dispose of them. "People see me enjoying them, they buy the product." I shrugged, the braid draping down my arm bouncing off. "Easy marketing. I don't see you doing anything to help your parents."
He wore a cocky smirk, the heavy crate now reclined against the table in front of me. Stubborn boy. "Don't need to, I just exist and the money comes in."
"I see why strip clubs aren't necessary in this town. Just put up a table and smile for cash." My parents had just finished charging a customer for their basket of fruits, my mother coming up behind me to pinch my cheek before returning over with the customer's change.
Sundays were something I dreaded for a long time growing up. The sheer thought of having to wake up before the sun even planned on making its appearance made me want to crawl into a hole and die, especially since I had school the next morning. It wasn't until I was well into my high school years when I learned to appreciate the early start of my day and helping out my parents with their produce stand.
I grew more acquainted with the community and their contributions to every Sunday farmer's market. Their dedication to it made me look forward to it every week, along with the prospect of getting to see my friends without the excuse of school getting in the way, not that that ever stopped us anyway.
He adjusted his posture, both hands now working to support the heavy weight of his crate, refusing to admit a bag would help him out. "It's worked out just fine." His hair fell over all the right places on his face, just a few signaling it was time for a trim, but he swiped them back over his head before I had time to focus on it any longer.
I tossed him a spare strawberry from the small box where we kept them in the stand, him catching it expertly between his teeth and dropping the crate in the process, all its content spilling all over the floor.
I walk out of my seat and crouch down to him by the ground, gathering all the books, bread, coffee ground packets, and the additional plastic bag carrying all the produce he'd just bought off my parents, who argued he didn't need to pay for it, but he insisted.
My parents adored him, and everyone around here for that matter, but my relatives held him dear to their hearts for reasons unknown to me, but I couldn't really blame them. He made it easy to love aimlessly and recklessly.
"I'll be the judge of that." Our eyes catch each other briefly as I hand him a copy of his next read, Catcher In The Rye, and we stay like that for a beat before it's gone.
"Are you gonna pay up anytime soon?" He refers to my drainage of the strawberry bin, but I stayed lost in the moment.
Our knees are barely a centimeter apart, but he makes a point to keep them that way. I could put money on the fact that his knees were growing numb just like mine were, but I couldn't bring myself to be bothered by it.
I think back to what I brought with me on the drive back from our house. "I got enough to cover a book and maybe a cup of tea, if I'm lucky."
My parents wouldn't notice if I was gone. It wouldn't be the first time I took a leave of absence in the middle of a busy day to go grab some tea, maybe hide in the bookstore to take an impromptu break when it got overwhelming.
He got up first, putting the milk crate down over the table to offer his hands to me. The softness of his touch was not unfamiliar to me, but it always felt new in some ways every single time.
"Consider me the lucky one." I took the crate from him and took off before he had time to catch up and snag it from me, hoisting it over my shoulder instead to help bear the weight better.
I looked back over my vacant shoulder and caught his doting eyes admiring me from a number of steps behind, only putting one foot forward to follow me when I gave him a smile that suggested he moved along.
For once I didn't look back any more knowing he wasn't far behind. I didn't need to when I could feel his presence occupying every one of my senses as he caught up.
I didn't have an ounce of doubt he would always be there.
He always was, after all.
- NOW -
The smacking of my lips made them feel almost too brittle for me to press them together again, but enough to wake me up.
Directly in my line of vision are the glow in the dark stars I refused to tear down even after surpassing that phase of my life when they were a staple in my room. They were blurry at first, but my vision cleared sufficiently for me to notice the shadows casted around them by the light bleeding through the curtain.
I followed the light pooling in, noticing how it was brighter than I expected and turned on my side to check the time on my phone, seeing how I'd missed all seven of my alarms and slept through what was supposed to be a decent time for me to get ready for my first day of work.
"Fuck." I sway my way into a seating position, rushing a text to Barbara apologizing for being late, which she responds seconds later that it's no problem at all
My guilt still drives me to scurry into the bathroom, encountering a sleeping Robyn sitting on the toilet seat with her elbow perched over the counter supporting the weight of her body.
I smack the side of her head, her whole body jolting with a weird noise coming from her as she confusingly looks around the room until her eyes land on me.
"How long have I been here?" She grumbles, her yawn making her limbs shake.
"I should be asking you that." I take my toothbrush and dampen it before loading it up with paste, wetting it again and brushing my teeth.
"What time is it?" She hoarsely asks this time, gathering paper in her hands to wipe herself slowly. "Did I wipe?" She follows with, shrugging and going for the wipe anyways.
"Just past 10." I spit out the toothpaste, giving her a look as if to urge her to move so I can relieve myself.
"I sat here at eight-ish. I think." The freckles on her nose disappear in a scrunch of her face, reaching below the counter to spill two ibuprofen pills and cupping enough water in her hand to swallow them both.
She'd gone out of town last night with her friends and didn't come back until just a handful of hours ago, stumbling through the door while dad had his morning coffee. It was comical how she had her own place but chose to stay over at our parents most of the time, more so now that I was back.
Robyn had a similar loft apartment to Jace's above his bar, and they just so happened to be neighbors. I had the option to move in with her, but with how much shit I came bearing with in my bags, it was a safer bet to move into a place where I had enough space to put my things away until I found a place of my own.
It wouldn't take me long, but after losing most of my stuff in a nasty divorce where we failed to sign a prenup, I needed the money from my job at the store to get me back up on my feet after paying my lawyer for doing such a mediocre job at mostly siding with Bradley's lawyer and causing me to lose most of my belongings in one go.
"Is mom home?" I yawned, leaning against the door with my arms crossed. "I need a ride."
"The bookstore's like a block away." She deadpanned.
"I'm late."
"By the time I get my car up and running you're already-"
"Fine!" I didn't have the energy to banter with my sister after sleeping less than a handful of hours myself as well. "At least tell me she left breakfast made before going to the farm."
She shrugs. "I would assume so."
After a fair shower to wash off the excess hangover (byproduct of my reinstatement to Martini Tuesdays with Eloise and Jace), I skimmed through my closet and chose the first pair of mom jeans my hands grazed over, pull a pastel yellow cardigan and white t-shirt to go underneath, sneaking into Robyn's room to steal her pair of clogs and nearly rolled down the stairs before I wasted another second overthinking what I chose for work.
It was a last minute call, but my job back in the city refused to allow me to work remotely, despite the fact that it consisted of my ass warming up a chair for eight hours a day wrangling up payrolls and getting cross eyed with so many Excel spreadsheets.
I'd excelled as one of their most decorated employees in the accounting office I worked at, but it appeared to my boss that it was nonnegotiable I'd email her all the company files I frequented via email, nor joined in on meetings through videoconference.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my letter of resignation drafted up for years in a hidden folder from my husband. It was an ongoing discussion in my household and drove us into countless arguments where I'd end up staying over at a friend's, or a hotel, to avoid any more of Bradley's conflict, and him God knows where.
I'm not stupid enough to know now what his whereabouts were at the time, but it stung less to dust it under the rug and mark it as another chore to forget with passing time, only to repeat the cycle over and over again.
He didn't deserve the right to cross my mind nowadays. Not with the way he took my trust and used it as a wipe to clean up the mess he'd made between another person's legs in the bed we'd made.
Just as expected, over the stovetop were two plates wrapped up in aluminum paper, each labeled with mine and Robyn's nicknames. It wasn't out of character for my mom to be treating us like she would in our youth. For the past week she'd been whipping up all sorts of recipes I was sure she'd never cooked before in her life, but was now rejoicing in doing with her boys around.
I swipe the plate and locate the umbrella by the main door, shouting over my shoulder a quick goodbye to Robyn before stepping out into the misty day, a few drops of water dampening my hair as I skip over the puddle at the end of the short staircase.
I took my usual route from when I was growing up here — a shortcut through Crook and Farley without forgetting a sharp left at the end of the street to get to town square just steps away from the store's entrance.
Upon my arrival I gathered my surroundings and let them sink in. Blanchard's Den just four doors ahead, and a direct view of Siesta Villa from across the street whenever the wind blew a certain direction and cleared the branches of the honey locust tree beginning to blossom in the spring air from blocking my line of sight.
Delilah, I recognized from my graduating class, finished brooming what looked to be a welcome mat in the entrance, smiling and waving at the tall figure inching closer to the bed and breakfast, but I turned to open the door before catching who it was.
The yellow door cracked open just enough to let myself in, the bells chiming over my head catching Barbara's attention from the front desk and greets me with her mellowed crooked smile.
"You made it." She rounds the corner and pulls me into a hug, surprising me while my hands still lingered at my sides, which I awkwardly peeled out and wrapped them around her back to not appeal as insensitive.
She was giving me a job on a last minute call, after all.
"It was a late night." She pulled back, her short height making my own five feet and two inches seem like a novelty. "It won't happen again, I promise."
"Oh, darls." She waves off. "We're lucky that you're even back. You get a free pass to go crazy for a month at the very least."
I wouldn't tell her, I didn't have the heart to, but hearing those words from someone who's not in my immediate circle was like a chain I didn't know was strapping my limbs to my body breaking off and falling to my feet.
I didn't know how to explain to her they were something I wish someone had told me before I disappeared for so long, so showing up on time from now on and putting in my best work to keep this shop afloat would be my best compensation.
"Right," I huffed out a small laugh, tucking my hands into my pockets. "Where do I start?"
"Baron already restocked a few sections, but we got a new shipment for contemporary fiction," She curled her finger for me to follow her into the back room. "You can get started on those and go from there."
Barbara's family had been in the book business for as far as I can remember, which isn't much, according to Robyn, but I was certain she'd been around longer than my own parents even fathomed the idea of getting together. Her own parents ran the place until she took over when I was around middle school, and had employed a lot of my friends growing up for summer jobs, myself included.
I spent countless days and nights here just going through homework whenever I deemed it too early to get home, or whenever she'd get a new book in stock and ask me and Callum to check it out for her before she put it up on the shelves.
There was a specific corner in the back where she'd always set up some pillows, sometimes even blankets if it got too cold, and we'd read until our eyes burned, or until either one of us fell asleep. I was the first to go out most times, leading to him giving me piggyback rides to my house with me drooling or my head slipping off his shoulder.
That wouldn't be an issue, given everyone was easily convinced with anything I suggested to them recently.
I take out a book to save up for the window display and stock up the rest, carrying the box filled with clearance books over to the table by the register and neatly organizing each one by color coordination — some by alphabetical order if I was able to, some not.
"Some things never change." Startled, my hand slammed over the stack of books I had been shifting. I turned to stand straight, coming face to face with Callum who was standing on the opposite end of the table and I failed to notice until now.
"Old habits are hard to break." I smile awkwardly, my eyes dropping to the book I just had in my hands and reaching over with a single digit to line it up perfectly with the rest. I can breathe now.
"Hey," he breathed out.
I lifted my gaze, watching his head fall to the side in the slightest, his lips curling upwards. "Hey, you." I exhaled back.
After being hyper aware of how many corners in my life he took up, I was pleasantly surprised when I lost track of him at some point during the night last week.
We successfully avoided each other for almost two weeks now — not that it was intentional on my end, but I can't say I'm relieved nor mad about it. I needed to think, and being around him it felt like he could pluck out every one of my thoughts with little to no effort, more than I could begin to grasp myself. My lungs fell short, and I was caving into my realm of will he or will he not? Will I or will I not?
I didn't sleep that night after he disappeared on us. I didn't sleep at all every night after that. I replayed every second and how I could've changed my reaction, made it better for all of us to show how I really was happy to see them, but they all played it the same, and ended in me walking away the same way I seemed to keep doing.
He was still so beautiful. The years really did him and many of us wonders, as Robyn's words were, but they suited him in ways I never imagined they would.
Seeing life pass us by in pictures and videos didn't do any justice to seeing him in this light. I wondered if he thought about the same thing.
"I didn't know you-" He shook his head, stuttering. "if I'd known-"
"Jesus, Callum." My hand shot up to swipe over my eyes, a distinct laugh falling from my lips. "I know we're walking on eggshells, but we don't have to avoid each other."
When my hand fell to my side, I leaned on the table with my hip. His lips folded, shaking his head again. "I didn't mean to." He kept his eyes on me, his tone softer. "I meant to say I'd have dressed better."
I hadn't studied more than his face until he brought it up, my eyes dropping to notice the black top he sported and-
"Animal print shorts your thing now?" I teased, my arms crossing over my chest.
"Only when I have to do laundry. Mornings are a hassle." He hooked whatever he carried under his arm, leaning his weight on the pillar next to him.
"Only you would make leopard print fancy."
"Thank you." he said earnestly. "I might have to raid your closet, though. Jace's selection of clothes is growing limited from his corner in my closet whenever he stays over."
"I'm sure mine's no better." I pick up my box from the floor, walking off with hopes he'd follow me over to the counter where I slide the box over the surface and circle the corner, the counter working as a barrier between us. "What brings you here?"
He picks up whatever was under his arm, waving it. "I get my paper here every morning." It slaps it on the counter.
My brows scrunch. "Don't they deliver that anymore?"
His lips smacked together. "Budget cutbacks." His eyebrows shot up before they dropped.
"Ah."
"Yeah." He nodded.
Time stretched between the two (or possibly three) feet between us and twirled around us in tangent with the Adrianne Lenker tune playing on the speaker.
"Listen-"
"Look-"
I point at him. "You go."
"Sundays are kinda busy for me with the market and all, but I'd been meaning to ask if you'd still be around then." It dawns on me he might still be under the impression I'm here temporarily, but I set the clarification aside for a later conversation. Not that we'd ever run out of things to talk about. "At the market, I mean." He adds.
Sunday farmers markets were a town tradition that dates back to the early days of this place's origin. We gather in town square every Sunday from early hours in the morning until just before sunset, or until we sell out of whatever we're selling.
My family owns a chunk of land just by the town's border where they had all sorts of crops to sell since before my mother was even born. The idea was for it to be continued passed on to every generation, and so far my parents have excelled at keeping the business alive.
They're in charge of the produce section, but you can find just about anything every Sunday. Eloise's family sold fabric rolls that came in handy for upholstery, seamstresses around town, or even different craft ideas locals came up with for town parties. Jace's family churned this town's finest butter, one you could only find at the market if you were patient enough to wait until then to restock. You wouldn't get better toast than the one that had his family's butter spread over it.
Callum's family dedicated their time to their food stall and never missed a Sunday. Their main dish was always their meatloaf with white rice, but my vote was always on their freshly squeezed raspberry lemonade.
I'd spend every Sunday in my parent's section helping ring people's loaded baskets, bagging everything up for them, or driving up to the farm to get more stuff if we ran low on stock too early.
Robyn and I would switch shifts every Sunday too, but I never had any complaints as long as I had my pint sized lemonade with me.
"Are you sure you want to hear me yap?" There it was. I saw the hope flash in his eyes when he straightened up and wiped the underside of his nose, trying to be nonchalant about it.
He grinned, and my god was he a sight for sore eyes. "All the yapping you want, yeah."
"There's a lot to go over, though." I raised my eyebrows in a challenge. We had so much to unpack in more ways than one, but I'd do with a simple conversation if it was all he was willing to give me. I was grasping at crumbs of him everywhere I went.
He snorted. "Believe me, I know."
I glanced around for any customers, taking their distraction to go over the wall by the office food and dragged my finger over the calendar, going as far as checking my text exchange with Barbara and frowning when finding she never sent me an official schedule.
I look up and find him leaning his torso over the counter with his weight resting on his elbows, eyes pinned on me and every subtle movement I make. "Barbara hasn't given me my schedule for the week, but I'm sure I'll be free after I'm done helping my parents at the market if I make it." Or at least I hoped. I really was craving his parent's lemonade again.
He patted the counter, setting the paper down. "It's set." He pushed himself off with both hands, fisting one of them in his pocket and slapping $2 in front of me and walking off, his eyes still trained on me. "I'll look forward to seeing you hogging strawberries again."
He was at the door, the bell chiming over his head where he ducked down to evade the low built doorframe. "It was never hogging!" I yelled out, catching only a note of his laugh that stayed with me throughout my whole shift, harmonizing all of my thoughts.
Every now and then I'd fight the urge to look and distracted myself with rearranging books into different sections, dusting shelves, even making calls to publishing companies and confirming pending orders for the week.
In between those gaps of sanity, I'd look over to where I'd get a perfect eye shot of Siesta Villa across the street whenever I was lucky that the tree branches weren't in the way. The place was running in full swing — the curtains spread open to allow the light to bleed into the cozy reception area.
There were so many splashes of color compared to how I remember it, but it still held that warm, fuzzy feel to it that could never go away even with time. I told myself it had nothing to do with its new owner, according to what Eloise informed me when telling me about our friend group's jobs, but who was I fooling?
I stepped outside at one point when the store had emptied out, perching my hand over my eyes when the light reflected over the wet pavement. I watered some plants and fixed up the benches in front of the store, as well as wiping down the windows although Barbara told me to not work myself out too hard.
It got warmer out, but everyone pointed out how the temperature hadn't changed since the day began. I didn't trust good ol' Wren's thermometer skills that well, but every other person in this town seemed to still.
The warmth spread all through my chest and into my arms, shooting down my legs and reaching the very tips of my toes — tingling.
I reach for the handle, about to walk inside when I will myself to look over my shoulder where he'd disappeared to earlier for the day.
It was impossible to miss him in the group of people that surrounded him — another group of tourists, I suppose. His attention was drawn to anything but the people in front of him, but rather fixed on me.
I exhaled a sigh at the same time he drew in a single breath, a small wave accompanying it.
The warmth outside was growing to be overwhelming.
I returned the gesture, willing my feet to move one in front of the other inside the store.
By the end of the day as I locked the store, I caught him from the corner of my eye walking down the block in the direction to where I remember his parents' house was.
His head hung low between his shoulders, his hands dug deep inside his pockets. He smiled to himself more notably, something I envied with how exhausted and desperate I was to take a shower and turn in for the day. I wasn't even gonna bother with having dinner.
He was dapper, and the thought alone made me smile to myself, but in true Callum fashion, he must've felt me light deadweight from a mile away and shifted his head in my direction.
"Sunday." He mouths, raising a finger at me to make a point out of it.
I mirrored him, my keys swinging over my knuckles. "Sunday."
***
"I don't get it." The young girl says, skimming through the book just to go back and patting the back cover's synopsis. "What's the point of liking a book of the main character's a little shit, you know?"
"That's what makes it beautiful." I reinstate, my back to her as I unload another shipment out of the dozen we got at the cusp of dawn.
It was a busy morning, and a terrible day for it to be so. Of all days, today wasn't the day for my new boss to tell me she wasn't sure when I was gonna be able to clock out, especially with how much clientele we were getting thanks to the farmers market happening just outside.
"How can somebody call a book like this beautiful?" She scoffs, and I look over my shoulder as she places it back on the shelf, moving onto other classics I didn't particularly enjoy as much as the one she just left behind.
She was a tough one, but according to Barbara and her other girls, it was my enthusiasm over these reads that kept customers coming back for more recommendations. Her recommendation table was emptying out almost every time I'd put notes about my favorites, but I didn't like to let it get to my head. I had a heart for literature, but it wasn't something I flaunted around. It was just a hobby.
"The author shows a heartbreaking empathy for the main character for the way he copes with growing up in a world where he continuously gets betrayed by authority figures in his life." I gather a new pile of reads, a Coco Mellors novel, and place a few with the cover facing my way.
A distasteful laugh falls from her lips, a dead giveaway that my words are flying right over her head. I wasn't ready to give up.
"He's a dick." I side with her, stepping her plate and deciding to level with her rather than playing the enemy. "He's a posturing hypocrite, a liar, and a scum." This perks her attention. "But weren't we all exactly that when we were kids?"
"I wasn't." She responds, and I raise my eyebrows.
"I highly doubt that you weren't a sixteen year old girl who wasn't on the verge of a breakdown every ten seconds."
She looks down at her hands, her head lifting to gaze at the red covered book again.
"He may complain throughout every chapter, but the association you gain in the book when you put yourself in his shoes makes you see it in a different light." I shrug. "Hell, I hated the book the first time I read it."
"You've read it more than once?" I hear the shock in her tone, and nod.
"Catcher In The Rye was assigned to me in school, which for starters, isn't the best option for a middle school teen still figuring out how the fuck a tampon even worked." She laughs, spinning to lean against the shelf opposite to me.
I mirror her, blowing off a strand of hair strewn over my face. "I gave it another try in high school for an essay I was assigned and I understood it a bit better, but the harsh slap didn't make me hate it any less than I already did."
"That bad?"
"It's rare you find a teen who enjoys being faced with a lot of their realities in one book, much less someone who's complaining continuously and you see yourself in them in more ways than one."
"Yeah." She was no older than 18, I knew what it was like to be in her position. I read dozens of books by that age, most of which I didn't pick up again until later in life and ended up loving them when I saw how far I'd come in my appreciation for the lines in between each sentence.
"Look, I'll tell you what." I scanned the aisle, seeing Barbara at the end of it giving us a soft smile before she walked away, leaving us alone. "Give it a try, on the house."
"I can't do that." She shook her head vehemently, resisting my kindness.
"It's okay." I took the book from the shelf and held it up between us. "When you finish, come back and tell me what you think. Do you like coffee?"
She shyly looks up at me. "I prefer tea."
"My kind of girl." I grin back, her visible nerves dissipating slowly. "We'll have some tea and discuss it. I can see why people hate this book so much, but I wanna hear your thoughts and if you hate it, you can return it. if you don't, I'll show you more stuff I think you'll like too."
I can see the wheels turning in her head, but I know it won't take much for a girl her age to turn down a free book. I wasn't sure what she'd do with it, frankly. She could look up a review online, study it, and claim everything she read as authentic to her opinion, chug a free cup of tea and move onto her next free read coming off my paycheck. It was a risky bet I was putting myself in, but my gut told me to trust her regardless.
I was this girl at some point too.
"Okay." She says, her frail hands slowly taking the book from my hand and biting her lip. "I'm gonna..." She points over to the next aisle, silently telling me she'll continue scanning the store and I nod.
"I'll be here all week." I call out as she turns the corner, Barbara's figure coming into sight as she joins me in putting up the last of the books on the shelf, taking the box from me to break it up and hooking it under her arm.
"How many more books on the house until your paycheck looks like a tip jar?"
Our shoulders brush together as I sidestep her to walk out to the main room, her trailing not too far behind.
"I thought you were keeping count." I threw at her, for which she laughed.
Working for Barbara has been one of the easier adjustments in my return. For starters, she's treated me just as she would when I was one of her regulars, if not with even more care now that I've seen life outside of what I thought was a bubble of a town.
I never particularly hated living here. Like every teen, or most, I imagined my life taking off and being able to look back at it from behind a podium and be grateful of my upbringing and the quaint life I lived prior to achieving all my goals.
I'd have checked every one of my list of things to accomplish before turning thirty. Get my degree, marry what I once believed was supposed to be the love of my life, have a home, have stable relationships, network and grow my resume, and return home.
That last one seemed unobtainable for a better portion of my time in Chicago. I'd been convinced that if my life was so much better and full of opportunities in such a big city where every door kept opening for me, what was the point in returning to a place where my future would remain undetermined by comfort?
I hated feeling strapped to my comfort zone, yet I let so much of the love I carried blind me of most things.
I gave up the level of friendship I had with my people in Oregon for people who would prefer the wine drunk version of me who would giggle to inside jokes I never fully understood. The girl who appeared to have every aspect of her life figured out and under control, when really she was barely aware of where she stood half of the time, let alone how transparent her glass roof was.
It was all under a microscope the entire time, but said instrument was always put aside by the people she presumed she trusted the most with the promise she was smart enough to understand the circumstances and to cope with it like every other growing adult.
I had a mother, a father, a sister, an everlasting friend group, and an unfulfilled love.
These were the purest kinds of strings that continuously pulled at my heart and brought so much into perspective, one that opened my eyes into realizing I'd lost my girlhood to a man who chewed me up and spit me out like I was made of plastic.
That eighteen year old girl still lived in me somewhere deep down, and she could feel so much more openly than the thirty-one year old woman I was today. She was unapologetic, sincere, and lively. Beyond her youth, truthfully.
I wanted her feet to touch the burning concrete she once walked on once again. I wanted her hands to feel the hands of those who'd brushed the envelopes sent in her time away. I wanted her to be young again.
There was so much I hadn't had time to process myself in the rash decision to pack whatever I had left and run back here. The inevitable crash would come, but I was taking in every day as it came, and until then, I wanted that girl living inside of me to appreciate my slowing pace back to its original course. To breathe pure air and feel like herself once again.
"You good to keep an eye on the store while I pick up Talah from her friend's?" Barbara carefully asked, her words almost frail with her normal timid nature.
"Sure." She smiled, leaving me behind the counter to ring out another customer while she grabbed her purse and bid her farewells, going on her way.
I pick up my phone and shoot out a text to the first person in my messages list with how much we've been going back and forth throughout the whole week.
Please tell me there's some toast waiting for me when I get there.
Delivered 2:34pm
Lou
That busy?
Received 2:36pm
Won't be out for another while. Barbs just left to pick up her daughter.
Delivered 2:37pm
Lou
I'm OMW.
Received 2:38pm
It barely takes the doorbell two minutes after the text for it to ring loudly, the sound of bangle bracelets and a tote bag two sizes bigger than her torso covering Eloise's front as she waltzes into the store and lands a take out plate for me on the counter.
"You could've just been straight up and said you were starving." She takes off the aluminum foil over it, opening it for me and handing me an ice cold raspberry lemonade. "Jace wanted to deliver it himself, but he's wrapped up with Mrs. Bales again."
"Has he realized she's about four decades over him?" The focaccia bread stuffed with turkey ham, lettuce and tomato fills my palate, the garlic butter only intensifying the satisfaction of my stomach's grumble.
"She probably has him in her will at this point." She rests her weight on the counter, glancing around the store with her own lemonade in hand. "What time were you supposed to be off?"
I hummed, wiping off the butter spread on the side of my lip. "Undetermined, but I promised Cal to be at the market before it was over."
She cups her jaw, facing me. "You two talked?"
"Briefly, but yeah." I washed down a mouthful with some of my drink. "Has he mentioned anything?"
"Not particularly, but he seemed off." I hummed again, not exactly sure what to say. "You ran into each other?"
"He came in earlier to get the paper and ran into the surprise that I worked here now."
"Oh, yeah." She laughed, her perfect denture lighting up the room. "He was doing his little puzzle thing earlier in his booth."
"Puzzle?" My brows scrunched.
"Crossword puzzles?" She shrugged. "Or word search, I never know. They changed every other day."
"Since when does he do those?" I asked.
She stared at the ceiling pensively. "Since his grandpa passed. I think he kept getting the paper in the mail and felt bad to cancel the subscription so he just took the rolls in and skimmed through a few until it became his thing."
My heart sank. "Pops died?"
Her face fell, the realization dawning on her. "You didn't know?"
The sensation crawling up my spine made my skin prickle, my eyes feeling heavy with grief at the sudden news.
Callum's grandfather, Gerald, had been one of Callum's favorite people, if not the most important figure in his life for as long as I remember. We'd spent most of our time together at his house, their bond being so profound that his grandparents had a room set up for their only two grandchildren in their house. I hadn't driven or walked past since I came back, but I made a mental note to do so sometime soon and pay my respects from afar.
Gerald and his wife Romilly welcomed me and my friends with open arms every single time we'd come over, even going as far as calling my parents and letting them know I was there when I'd fall asleep on his couch when Cal and I would do movie marathons and I wouldn't blink an eye open until the next morning.
Callum's parents were always there, and they were just as important, but the relationship between him and his grandparents was something beyond any of our understanding.
"You mentioned his booth?" I diverted the conversation, figuring it's hitting too close to home for me to burst into tears over something I lost the right to become this overly emotional over after leaving him behind as well.
"P, babe." She deadpanned, her hands slapping the surface with mock disappointment, or true one. "We need another wine night to catch up."
"Sure, after I get over this hangover." Just then, Barbara comes through the door with Talah's arm intertwined with hers, their adoring mother-daughter giggles filling my heart.
"Sweet Eloise," her demeanor only glows even more radiant if possible at the sight of one of her favorite customers. She pulls her into a hug. "I see you two are catching up."
"Just delivering lunch to the tourist." My shoulders shake with a laugh. "I'll be on my way." She turns to blow a kiss at me for goodbye, but Barbara speaks first.
"I'll handle the store with Talah for the night." She nods her head over to the gathering by the market, her eyes softening. "Have fun, but don't make me regret letting you go early by not getting me some of those apples from your stand!"
I see Eloise rejoice with this, her hands clasping together by her chest. "I won't let you down, barbs. I'll get you a basket of our finest granny smith by tomorrow morning"
"That's what I like to hear." Her warm presence swims across the narrow room and back to her office, resuming the job she put on hold before leaving.
Eloise's deep exhale pushes my own thoughts to the back of my head. She draws her attention to me, folding her arm over her stomach in offering.
"What are you waiting for, troubled one?" I let a laugh fall from my lips, hooking my arm around hers and let her drag me out of the store.
The sound of children's giggles filled the air with purity. My eyes wandered around the sidewalk to see them running around with paper airplanes and bubbles flying around them as they played hopscotch painted on the pavement, their parents watching from a nearby bench with adoring smiles on their faces.
Leaves crunched under the soles of my shoes as Eloise dragged me around like a rag doll like she has this entire week, her enthusiasm over my return practically oozing out of her pores every time her eyes catch me in the same room, almost as we if haven't been texting until our eyes bled every single day since the high school reunion.
We reached the first tent, Ivana's flower stand drowning out the table on the far corner where she sat with a book in hand on her stool. Her eyes lifted, her beaming smile greeting me before I even reached her.
"I heard rumors, but those never die around here. I didn't know what to believe." She put her book on the floor by her bag and rounded the corner to pull me into a small hug. "How's life?"
A disbelieving laugh escapes me over her shoulder, but I mask it the best I can to my abilities.
"As good as adulting can be." She scans my frame, squeezing my shoulders before letting go.
"Never a dull day." Her eyes light up, like an idea burned up over her head and she nearly falls over, turning over to the mount of hundreds (possibly thousands) of flowers up for sale.
"How long have you had..." My hands gestured to her stand. Eloise was still behind me chit chatting away with another bystander.
"Not long ago. A year, maybe?" Her eyes squinted in thought, a shrug following. "I thought the market needed a little pick-me-up since the flower shop is closed on Sundays and Greta thought the idea was great to keep sales going even then."
Greta was our local florist, another town legend. I'd gotten flowers to and from her shop for years and knew her service hours were somewhat unorthodox, but it made me happy someone else noticed the spirit it brought onto people to receive even the smallest petal.
"Here." She reaches over and hands me a small bouquet wrapped in brown paper. "There's some coronations, a peach garden rose or two and lena scrotch broom and pincushion protea." She peers up at me. "And I just realized you probably have no idea what any of those are."
"You lost me at crotch broom." We burst into a fit of laughs, the bouquet shaking in my arms.
"Scrotch." She corrects, only making us laugh harder. "Keep those, on the house."
No, Vani." I reached into my purse. "I insist."
She shakes her head, clasping her hands behind her back. "Consider it a welcome home gift. We could use more of you around here more often."
My features soften as I take in her words. "Thank you. I've missed this place too."
We say our goodbyes, Eloise already leading the way when Jace suddenly appears at my side, draping his arm around my shoulder and kissing the side of my temple with a resounding grunt of satisfaction that makes me laugh. I cast my eyes up to him, a shit eating grin plastered on his face before he keeps our pace up with Eloise's as he pulls my face to hide in the crook of his neck.
"When are you gonna tell Lou to let her off her leash?" Eloise whirls her head around with a scowl that makes Jace mock a bite at her, their banter giving me room to put my wariness aside.
These were my people. They knew me better than I knew myself.
He smelled just as musky and sharp as he did in middle and high school, only this time his persona and physical attributes matched the scent he carried.
"She's let me stop for social interactions, but I'm not much of a golden retriever like her." I let my head rest on his shoulder, sighing. "Don't tell her that, though."
"Wouldn't dream of breaking any of my girls' hearts." Despite Eloise's steps furthering ahead of us, Jace swerves us to a stop, completely leaving Lou on her own devices as she chats to herself and anyone who's willing to join her and yap their day away.
"Mister and misses Blanchard, how do you do?" He greets his parents formally, the latter who roll their eyes and turn to me with hearts in their eyes. "I just wanted to show Miss Adler none of you kicked the bucket while she was gone."
"Jace!" I lifted my head off his embrace, slapping his chest, turning to his parents. "I'm so sorry."
They wave it off. I truly don't even know why I feel apologetic over it when his parents are well aware of his personality, especially how his father passed it down to him. His mother is immune to it and ignores it half of the time, but on the other half she decides to join them, which is never good for someone who's not used to the Blanchard's dark humor.
"Not your fault, sweetie. I missed my chance at asking for a refund from the hospital when I had the chance." Mr. Blanchard only nodded in agreement at his wife's words, and I got to give it to them how committed they always are to it. If you didn't know them, you'd be convinced they weren't lying.
The rest of the pathway is empty for us to continue, for which Jace says, "You go ahead, I'll stick here to help."
"Please," Mrs. Blanchard pleads, her hands folded in prayer. "Take him with you. we get enough of him already. It's nice to get him off our shoulders every once in a while. More so now that you're back."
"Hey!" Jace protests, but I pinch his side. "This is the face that makes you a steady living."
"And the same face that keeps scaring customers away." Mrs. Blanchard turns to me. "Join us for dinner tomorrow. We're making fettuccine with alfredo sauce, your favorite."
"Me and my tupperware will be there." Jace exclaims.
"We were talking to Perry."
"We come in a package deal." He shrugs, turning without leaving them room to retort and walking us forward.
I feel every stare falling on me and they all morph into a single magnifying glass I can't escape from. My head's still comfortably tucked away on Jace's shoulder, but it doesn't stop the repression from creeping in.
I wasn't used to the scrutiny of each stare, but it made me hyper aware of the importance of my return to these people.
It also reminded me of the impotent I felt at times. I had nothing to offer unlike before. I came with a single luggage carrying my clothes and an empty void in my chest that progressively grew with each block I crossed of this town.
In hindsight I was happy. It was inevitable to feel that way in this place, there wasn't a corner you could stand on where you couldn't feel the love oozing out of people and not let yourself be affected by the contagiousness of it all.
It was confusing to feel as though you're a stranger to a place that knew you so well. I was transported back to different times and spaces of my life where their smiles brought me joy and a bashful sensation I failed to achieve anywhere else, but the questions of whether or not they anticipated my departure sooner or later lingered over my head.
I would look at my reflection in the mirror and count back with my fingers until I would find myself in another light. I would stretch the skin where it'd crinkled over the years and shake my body to rid itself from these thoughts, but nothing came.
I've made it redundantly clear to myself that I was capable of being loved. That I was capable of loving in the same way I was being showered with.
In a simple math equation these doubts would cancel themselves out to the average person, but it somehow wouldn't in my mind.
The woman staring back at me in the mirror wondered the same things I did. She rewinded every moment happening in her everyday life and scrutinized every detail to see what she could've done to make it easier for her to understand who she was.
I was stuck in a point of my life that felt like I'd rushed things and made rash decisions over things I felt at such a loss of control and now that I finally have the liberty to say and feel what I was entitled to, I couldn't find it.
All I saw was the eighteen year old girl that would read the final pages of a book to see how the book would end before she'd dive into it. It made me question whether or not I'd impulsively fast forwarded to the very end of the film based on my own life to see if this would bring me the ending i sought for myself, or it would backtrack me nine steps until I packed up my bearings and started out from scratch elsewhere in search of the woman I was compelled to be.
All around the market I kept catching whiffs of a scent I knew I recognized from a memory stored in the far back of my mind. It was one of those things I knew by heart like a song I'd keep on loop for months until I got tired and moved onto the next.
It followed me aimlessly until I found myself standing in front of a table covered on a beige cloth with no sign on it.
I scanned the premises and found tin cans wrapped in white paper with handwritten notes on it with different descriptions I had to squint my eyes to focus my vision to clarity.
Noticing the handwriting from a mile away, I darted my eyes up to find him. Sitting on a foldable chair with his newspaper in hand and a pen in the other, he catches me staring.
"Didn't think you'd ever make it." He scrambles to pluck a few cans away from where they were scattered.
Jace had gotten distracted along the way by Mrs. Brown's cookie stand, a few cheek pinches that glued him to his spot as she basically shoved all sorts of flavors she had available down his throat for feedback for her next baked batch.
"Apparently I tend to do that a lot lately." I stay standing in front of the table, his hand discreetly moving the lit up candle behind the rest of the stack.
I noticed the word search he was just working on before folding it over the table to focus on me.
"Eloise failed to mention this..." I flag my hands over the table filled with dozens of candles.
"It's not something I go around parading about." He shies, scratching the back of his neck.
"Yeah, clearly." I chuckled, both of us rotating our faces to stare around at the busy market. As he's distracted with scanning the growing crowd, I crouch a bit to read along the different candle names.
Peach Fuzz. Carolina Lavender. Dusty Pages. Amongst so many more.
"Can I...?" I point to the last one.
"Of course." He sat up straighter. I take it between my hands and unscrew the metal lid, taking a sniff and immediately shooting my memory to my earlier shift at the bookstore, the scent of worn in pages washing over me. "How did you start?"
"It's a long story." His nervous ticks have never been misable to me. The scratch of his thighs over his jeans, the nervous laugh, or the crinkle by his eye becoming more prominent. "I started in college for a business simulation project, but didn't really sell until I came back home."
"What's the theme?" I asked, taking another tin, Senior Pillows, and breathing it in. Tea tree reminded me of my shampoo, it felt the most soothing to me.
"Um," he searched for his words. "Stuff that makes me happy, I guess. Just things that remind me of certain moments in my life or places I love — people, even."
I kept stacking a few closest to me, keeping track of the ones I'd definitely bring home with me.
The next, Romilly Swings, took me back to mornings at his grandmother's house. The countless afternoons we'd all spend by the porch swing gossiping about the latest drama going on around town while his grandmother fed us to sleep, only to wake up the next day sprawled all over their living room and starting over again.
"These are mine." I slid the stack in front of me to him, only for him to return them in the exact same form with a rejecting shake of his head.
"My welcome gift to you."
"Absolutely not." I refused. "We're not doing that."
"I can't let you spend your first paycheck on me when you're barely less than a month into your job."
"I already spend half of it giving off books to people 'on the house' in exchange for their reviews and returns for more sales for Barbara." My lips vibrated with a tremor or humor, my hands already fishing for cash from my pocket.
"Perry." He said sternly.
"I'm just supporting local entrepreneurs." I took out the small roll of money I carried with me secured with a rubber band. It was barely $40, but it would probably do. "How much?"
"What are you doing next Saturday?" He asked back instead of answering my question.
"How much?"
"What do you think about a hike?"
"Is $40 good?"
"I don't take cash." He says, my shoulders sagging in defeat.
"What's it gonna take for you to take my money?"
He gave it some thought, or maybe he didn't and was just trailing along with my question to keep me standing here longer than I should. I didn't mind either way.
"If you want to splurge on me so much, let's have lunch after our hike and you can pay." He proposed. "Since you're feeling so generous with your income, of course."
"I never said yes." The mere thought of the horrible rash I'd get with my workout shorts on such a long hiking trail was enough to make me groan like a child. "Level with me here."
"I am leveling with you." He pushes, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I just wanna talk to you."
"About...?" I trailed softly. It was a stupid question on my end, but it rushed out before I had a moment to process it.
"Just...life?" Silence follows. "That sounded a lot better in my head." He chuckles. "I wanna get to know you more. Again."
I frowned. "But you do know me."
"There's a lot I don't know about you anymore." I forced myself to look at the candles in my hand.
There was so much of our lives that slipped through the cracks that I'd naively convinced myself we were still the same people we last saw each other as. With thirteen years stringing us together in the distance, and in my thoughts, I deserved to lend myself the opportunity to get to know the man he'd grown to be. The woman I'd grow to be.
Maybe this hike would give me some perspective and drive (or walk) me in the right direction of what it was that I was looking for in coming back here.
"I'll ask Barbara for the day off." His bashful smile was back, the same one that made me at ease. "You'll have to deal with the repercussions of her by asking for her to let me off the hook on her busiest day of the week."
"I'm sure she'll understand if I tell her you'll be spending the day with her favorite customer."
The glasses on his face complimented his features under the masked sunlight that was coming from all ends of the tarps hanging from the light poles. His eyes glistened more, if possible, the small layer of glass moisture emphasizing the prevalence of pure blue covering his irises; his index finger obstructing my view momentarily when he reached over the middle of his glasses and adjusting them over the bridge of his nose.
He caught my staring, his soft stare fusing with the same warmth of the wax dripping down each of his candles. I dropped my eyes, much to my dismay.
"What?" He asked, his voice pulling my attention back to his face once more. Was he always this alluring?
"You have glasses now." I pointed out the obvious, my fingers twiddling with each other on my front until I pulled them behind my back to conceal the build of nerves bubbling up my every sense. Callum had that might. All it ever took was one glance and he had me in the palm of his hands.
His laugh was velvety. "That I do." He pulls them off, giving them a small inspection before wiping his eyes. "Haven't had them for long. Reading was getting a bit iffy without them."
"Already?" I teased, taking them from his hands without thinking about it first and propping them over the bridge of my nose, the ends of it tucking themselves on the back of my ears and resting there snuggly. They almost were a perfect fit. "Jesus Fuck, Cal."
"Yeah, yeah. Give me." He reached over to strip them off, but I stepped back.
"How often do you wear these?" I spun around, testing my vision. They weren't really that bad, but for once I felt more like myself than I had in the two weeks I'd been here.
"Doctor said I'm supposed to use them daily-"
"But-"
"-but I only really need them for reading." I finally slightly bent over the table for him to take them off directly from me rather than me just handing them to him, the pinch of his fingers over the midsection making our skin graze. I pursed my lips, shutting my eyes to avoid his piercing stare.
He lets the glasses slip from my face agonizingly slowly, my pulse practically audible to me as they fall from me and go back to frame his face. He dips down to match my position, his lips curling up.
He positions them, still crooked. "Good?" I shake my head, my hands working on their own accord to adjust them until they line up perfectly. Smiling, he adds. "They suit you better, in my opinion."
Our eyes narrow in unison — in challenge, but we both break. "I like you in them."
He hums in question, and I hum back in agreement.
"Doctor's orders." I throw back.
He nods. "Noted."
We return to our previous positions, somewhat sheepish over how comfortable we got in our short encounter.
"I have one request, though." I tell him, watching his playful demeanor return.
"What's that?" He bounces on the soles of his feet, sniffling.
"I'll need a ride home after we wrap up for the day." I whirl my finger around to gesture the whole event. "My parents are going back to my aunt's for a concert in the city and my body can't take another mile long walk."
He delights with hilarity at my fatigue, nodding. "I'll pick you up from your parents' stand in about a half hour."
"Perfect." I smile at him. picking up my candles, I allow myself another look at him. "See you then."
He winks, smiling back. "See you, lo-Perry."
***
Thirty minutes couldn't go by quicker.
I lost track of how many times I checked my watch for the time, only to be disappointed every time I'd see there was still far too much time left to go.
The day had come undone fast up until the point where he told me he'd come looking for me in a half hour. I got distracted by it. I kept getting lost in it every time a customer would come up to me to ask even the most mundane questions, or just to say hello.
"You've barely touched those berries, bug." My mom squeezed my shoulders, coming into view when she peeked her head over my shoulder. "Did they come out sour?"
I shook my head. "I'm saving some for a midnight snack." My parents weren't dumb enough to fall for my partial lie, but she nodded anyway.
"Well leave a few out to the side in the fridge. I'm making jam for some pancakes tomorrow morning." My mouth salivated at her words.
I pop a strawberry into my mouth as she walks away, rejoining my dad where he sat scrolling through his phone, his whole demeanor visibly relaxing when my mom sat next to him, kissing her temple before they both gave their full attention over to whatever he was reading now.
"Uber for Perry Adler?" My eyes widened at the government name, my body loosening when I was faced with a tight lipped smile Callum standing straight before me. "Hi, Debra." He grinned adoringly at them, reaching a hand over for them to shake. "Nice to see you, Rich."
"Here to charter our girl back home?" I stepped by my dad's side to pick up my stuff, making sure to grab Barbara's apples and my bin of strawberries along with them.
My dad hooked an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me to him with a kiss landing on the top of my head.
"I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing the poor lady had to take such a long walk back there." They all laughed. We all knew the walk was barely a five minute stretch.
"Always a gentleman." Both my parents hug me, promising to blow up my phone with concert content. "Be good, kid."
"Always." I joined Callum, walking in utter silence until reaching the sidewalk where he put down the folded table to fish for his keys in his pocket.
"You got the truck?" I gasped, staring at his '88 sage green pickup Ford truck parked right around the corner.
He looked in the direction I was staring at. "It was a tough bargain with Barry, but yeah."
I remember vividly the countless arguments he'd have with our mechanic to let him buy his truck off of him, but Barry was persistent in not giving it away just for Callum to run it into a curb. It wouldn't be the first time, which gave him a good enough reason to hold onto the ride for another while.
I helped him load up the truck and join the passenger seat, settling the seatbelt as he started the car and got us on the road.
It was a particularly slow ride the entire way with the windows rolled down, driving past familiar houses I kept listing off the top of my head from my vague memory, one of them being his grandparents' old place.
I bit my tongue from blurting out an apology for missing their passing, but I relished in the comfortable silence we'd adopted in the short ride to mine.
When he throws the car in park, I stay sat with my hands folded over my lap. I stare at the peeling gel manicure covering my nails, not helping my cause by plucking into it further.
"Thank you." I spill out, reaching to grab onto the door handle.
"Let me walk you up." He unbuckled his seatbelt and left his seat just as I did, reaching my side as I got off and got to the passenger floor before I could and took a few of my things to help with.
We unload everything over the kitchen counter after letting ourselves in and I followed him back to the door, thanking him once again for his help and wishing him a safe drive back home.
I watch him skip over the steps at the end of the porch, casting me another glance, like he was about to say something, but decided against it at the last second.
He saddles into the driver's side of his truck, a big sigh escaping him in the process. He shuts his eyes mid exhale, readjusting his glasses over his nose afterward.
"Hey, Cal?" I call out, his perceptive eyes darting back to me with his hand hoisted over the steering wheel.
"Yeah, P?"
I fold my lips into my mouth, leaning my head against the threshold. "I've missed you."
The way his eyes shifted in a quarter of a second was almost palpable to me in the distance. I could almost trace the lines of his expression with my eyes closed, like it was burned deep into my being.
He mirrors me, his head slumping back against the headrest with an expression I can't read this time, quietly replying, "I've missed you too. More than you know."
___________
a/n: their silent love keeps me up at night. the next chapter is so silly and adorable, i'm looking forward to it <3
thank you for all the love with this story🥹