Archives:
March 16-March 22, 2008
March 16, 2008
“So, you weren't kidding about the store being messed up,” Chang says, following after me as I lead the way into Mom's store.
“Oh my God,” Emma follows him up.
A new roof is in place at my mom's bookstore to be, but it looks like a lot of the remains of the old roof are still lying about on the ground, covering turned over book shelves and water-stained cardboard boxes. The floor is a mess with rubble and puddles of melted snow. I'm glad Matt and Julie will be joining us later on too. It looks like we could use any spare hand we can get.
“The new roof is supposed to be solid,” I offer weakly, walking further into the store. “And Mom's got a lot of new stuff on order. So she's on an upswing.”
“Might have to re-do this floor,” Cameron says. “Definitely going to need to repaint the walls.”
“Got the paint right over there,” I say, swinging my arm out toward a near wall, with cans upon cans of paint stacked on top of each other. “There's supposed to be some spackle somewhere too.”
“I don't even know where to begin with something like this,” Emma says.
“Well, for now, we're just looking at it,” I say spinning the ring of keys my mom gave me, over my index finger. “Mom's tied up until noon, so I just told her we should look at what we're dealing with before we get to work. I think she's got a plan, though.”
“We'll do whatever she says then,” Chang says, pushing one stray box a little with his shoe, as he looks around the store. “We'll do whatever it takes.”
March 17, 2008
“This one will still spin,” Chang says, giving a spinning display for greeting cards a slow, squeaky turn.
“Garbage,” Emma half sings. She sits on a stool, sifting through boxes of office supplies, working on register tape at the moment.
“I don't know,” I say, watching as Chang continues to spin it. “We could probably still use it. I mean, it's a part of the store, not merchandise.”
“But it's supposed to be a part of a new store,” Emma says. “That belongs in a place that's been open twenty years.”
“I think it might sort of fit,” Chang says, stopping the spin at last. “I mean, you think about it—people who are looking for books these days are usually going to go to Amazon first, because they'll find anything they want there, and it's usually cheapest. And if they don't want to wait for a book to come in the mail, they'll hit up one of the big chain bookstores.”
“So you're saying my mother's business is going to fail?”
“I'm saying that she's going to have a very specific clientele,” Chang corrects me. “A sort of clientele that might like rusty displays, and water-stained bookshelves.”
“I don't know that that clientele exists,” Emma says.
We each give her a look.
“What? I wouldn't want to hear that thing squeak while I was shopping.”
Chang casts a thumb toward Emma. “Now she's saying your mom's business is going to fail.”
“Tell me about.”
“I'm not sure I like you guys ganging up on me.”
“Ah, you like the attention,” Chang says, setting the display aside, and picking up the box cutter next to him.
The front door of the store opens, the bell feebly announcing the return of Matt, Julie and Cameron.
“All right,” Matt says, coming in and holding open the door. “Take it straight back, nice and slow.”
“Why are we carrying this again?” Julie grunts, holding one end of a large wooden bookcase.
“Because your boyfriend's an ass?” Cameron asks, making her way in with the other end.
“Make that all boys,” Emma says, heading over to lend them an extra hand.March 18, 2008
“Is this right?” Emma asks, writing in the air with her finger as she stands just inside the front window of my mother's store.
“Looks right to me,” I say, looking at the backwards outlines of letters in the glass, proclaiming the name of the store.
“I always get confused with this stuff.” She lets her hand drop, and grasps the handle of her paint brush. “I thought Julie was going to paint this.”
“You could wait for her. I don't think there's a rush.” Cameron and Chang ran out to grab lunch for all of us. They left a half hour ago, so they really should be back any time. I think Emma and I were each getting a little restless just waiting around, which was what brought us to our early start at the window.
“I think this brush is too big,” Emma says, as she starts to fill in the first stenciled letter.
“We could wait.”
“It just doesn't seem like it's going to fit in the letter right—like those little points at the end.”
I put my hand over hers on the brush. “You've just got to finesse it.” The bristles smear a bit of black outside the lines. “It probably doesn't have to be an exact fit.”
“It's not going to look professional if it's not exact.”
“We could wait.” I keep my hand over hers, and relax my palm, so it presses against the back of her hand.
Emma turns and looks at me.
The door to the stock room opens behind us, and Mom comes out laughing. “Sorry,” she calls back, before closing the door, a shoebox tucked beneath her arm. She points a thumb behind her. “Nobody told me we had a romance blossoming here,” she whispers.
“What do you mean?” I ask, taking my hand away.
Emma sets the brush back down in the paint can.
“Matt and Julie. I thought you said they were just friends now.” She looks behind her, and goes on whispering, “I just caught them making out in the back.”
Emma swirls the brush around the paint. “Funny how some people just keep coming back together, huh?”March 19, 2008
I lean against the railing on the back porch, looking out at the yard. There's a big puddle taking shape in the grass, from melted snow and the day's rain. I remember seeing that puddle out here year after year, as sure a sign as any that spring has taken hold.
I hear the door slide open behind me, and, for no real reason, am expecting to see Emma. I'm a bit disappointed when it's Mom who comes out, cradling a mug of hot chocolate.
“Hey Mom.”
“Hey Preston ,” she says, before taking a sip. “Out here reminiscing?”
“Something like that,” I say, looking back out at the yard.
“They just broke out the Monopoly board inside there,” Mom says. “You should join in.”
I turn, peering in the kitchen window. Emma's inside there, with Cameron, Matt and Julie, setting up the board, counting out play money. “Yeah, I probably will soon.”
“I have to say it, Preston ,” Mom goes on, “I'm kind of amazed by how much work your friends have got done. I was going to hire help, but I doubt things could have gone any better if I did.”
“Yeah.” My eyes settle on Emma. Her hair is barely even pink now, starting to fade back to blond. Matt says something that makes her smile, then giggle for a second. I wonder what he said. I shake my head, turning back. “So it seems like you and Dad have been getting along well.”
“We have,” she nods, looking past me, in a far window, peeking into the parlor of the house. Dad's there, and I have to squint for a second to see Chang sitting there with him. I've noticed them talking a couple times today. “I don't know,” Mom continues, “I think sometimes people just need some time. A break from things, so they can put their lives in perspective.”
“So you think you have things in perspective now?”
She shrugs. “I like to think so.” She blows on the hot chocolate, sending the steam flowing over the brim, into the chilly air. She looks at me out the corner of her eye. “What do you think?”March 20, 2008
“You smoking now, champ?” Matt asks, coming out to join me behind the store.
I shrug, blowing out a stream of smoke, as I flick ash from my cigarette. “Here and there—not a lot,” I half-apologize. I want to explain about Dave, and how he gave me the pack before he died. Matt would understand, but I find myself disinterested in telling the story—disinterested in feeling sorry for myself.
“Guess things change,” he says, eyebrows up. “Speaking of which, things are really coming together in there, huh?”
“They are,” I nod. “I can't thank you enough for all the help.”
He waves a hand. “I probably broke something for everything I fixed in there. Shouldn't thank me.” He kicks at a pebble on pavement, sending it out into the beat up bushes dividing this lot from that of our backdoor neighbors. “This week's been fun, though, huh?”
I nod, smiling. “Yeah, it's been good.”
“I don't know what it is,” Matt says, shaking head, “but there's something about being back in Shermantown with you and Chang, and spending this time with Julie. It just feels right—you know what I mean?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
The clouds are starting to part overhead, and the sun's breaking through. I have to squint for a second in the light, before stepping to the side.
“I'm thinking about proposing.”
“What?” I laugh, and the cigarette slips out of my mouth. “Shit,” I say, swiping at the sparks on my jacket.
Matt laughs too. “Julie—I'm thinking about asking her to marry me.”
“Are you serious, dude?”
Matt cracks a smile, running a hand over the deep stubble on his cheek. “I don't know. It's just something that popped in my head a few weeks ago. And I told myself it was probably stupid, and we'd probably just end up fighting when we were back in town here.”
“But you guys haven't been fighting.”
Matt shrugs. “It's just a thought.”
I step on the butt of the cigarette, smothering what's left of it. “It's a thought.”
The back door opens up, and Emma and Julie are there. “It's heavy lifting time,” Julie says. “You guys had better get in here.”
“Call of duty,” Matt says, patting me on the back.
I nod. “I'll be right there.”
The clouds shift some more, and all of a sudden, it's a sunny day. I don't know how long it will last, but for the moment, it feels pretty good to be a little too warm in my spring jacket.
I take the pack of Parliaments from the inside pocket of my jacket, and head over to the green metal dumpster. I prop open the top, and let the cigarettes fall out. I hold the empty pack in my hand, and let the top of the dumpster drop shut. I put the pack back away where it came from, and follow the others inside.March 21, 2008
There's a knock on the door. Before I can answer, it opens up, and Emma steps inside, wearing a dark grey t-shirt and blue and white checkered pajama pants. “OK for me to come in?”
“Yeah, come on in,” I say, setting my book down on my lap.
“I'm not waking you up, am I?”
“Na—I was going to finish reading this chapter before bed.”
Emma sits down at the edge of my bed. Her little t-shirt sneaks up on her back, flashing some skin as she sits, before she tugs the bottom back down to its place. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me come home with you for this week. You didn't have to let me—”
“Hey, you're the one doing me a favor here. Me and my family—”
“Yeah, but I needed this,” Emma says. “Really. I needed to get away from everything at Taylor , and out of my own head—this was perfect.”
I look down at the cracked spine of my book. “Well, I'm glad you had a good time.”
When I look up, Emma's smiling. “You're a good guy, Preston .”
I look back down, smoothing out my comforter beneath my palm. It's too warm for the comforter now, and I wish I had taken it off the bed before I climbed in tonight. I follow the creases and wrinkles with my eyes, until I come to Emma's leg.
“I don't think I told you that enough.”
I'm not sure what she means. I'm not sure if she's talking about when we were together. I wasn't such a good guy then, I know, fooling around with Veronica. Maybe she's talking about these past few months at Taylor .
There aren't any answers in her eyes. Emma's eyes are closed when I raise my own to meet them. I close my eyes as she leans in and kisses me.
It's a soft, quick kiss. Not long enough to really think about it. By the time I open my eyes, she's already pulled away. Her lips shake with the smile she's holding back, before she gets up and turns around. “Good night, Preston .”March 22, 2008
“And who had the fish fry?” the waitress asks, scanning the table.
I raise my hand, “Right over here.”
“You know, your breath is going to stink from that,” Cameron says, eying the platter of haddock and fries before me.
“I think I'll take my chances,” I say, watching as the waitress gives my father his prime rib. I'm happy to see my mother sitting next to him, and to listen to the two of them go back and forth about how my father should be eating more heart healthy foods at his age.
I've noticed Chang gravitating toward my father—our father, the last few days. Chang hasn't said much to me these last couple days, and it's all got me wondering if my father let his secret out of the bag. I feel like he should have told me if he was going to do that. But then, I suppose it's none of my business.
“ Preston doesn't have any sense of his own breath,” Emma says.
“Excuse me?”
“I just remember this night freshman year, when we went out to Luigi's,” she says, “and you were just craving garlic knots.”
“Who doesn't like a good garlic knot?”
“The point,” Emma goes on, “is that you don't so much as put a stick of gum in your mouth, let alone brush your teeth, before you start coming on to me that night. It was disgusting.”
I look down at my fish. “Well maybe you should have said something.”
“So everyone,” Matt calls out, “I've got a little announcement.”
Everyone at the table turns, as he stands up. A lot of the people from tables around us start watching too.
“I've had a really great time this week,” Matt says. He's more dressed up than the rest of us, except Dad, who came right from work. While the rest of us wear the same clothes we had on, working at the store, he stopped home and put on a red button up shirt and khakis. “And sometimes a week like this will help you put some things in perspective.”
To my side, Emma drinks deeply from her glass of water.
“Anyway, being with everybody, back here in Shermantown, got me thinking about where I come from, and what's important to me. Sleeping in my own bed at night. Hanging out with my best friends. And more than anything else,” he puts a hand on Julie's shoulder, “there's you, Julie.” Before I'm sure of what he's doing, Matt drops to one knee, and sticks his hand in his pant pocket. A moment later it's back out, with a little black box in it.
Julie covers her mouth with her hand.
Matt pops open the box. “Julie, will you marry me?”
Julie stoops, half falling off her chair as she bends to hug Matt. They turn their heads, a touch awkward, to kiss. “Yes,” she says softly after first, then repeats it louder, “yes.”
My father claps his hands together, beginning the applause that spread around the table, then, seemingly, through the whole restaurant. Julie turns a deep shade of red, and Matt rises, lifting her in his embrace, before he sets her feet back on the ground..