The wind all but blew Tabitha into the small bookstore. Flyers in a rainbow of colors fluttered wildly in protest as the wind tore against their thumb tack bonds on the corkboard by the door. Leaves scurried into the store as she quickly shut the door behind her. She turned around slowly trying to remove the long strands of hair that had found their way into her mouth and eyes and resituate her scarf. Smiling in apology to the assorted customers that looked at her now, Tabitha tried to get her bearings.
Weaving her way through the huge wooden bookshelves she caught sight of a worn arm chair tucked into a nook towards the back of the store. Sitting down heavily, grateful for its refuge, she rested her hands on the thick arms trailing her fingers softly over the balding green corduroy
Tabitha opened her eyes slowly, pulling focus on the titles surrounding her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the first one from the shelf that caught her eye: “If You’re Sad and You Know It, Clap Your Hands.”
“Back again, eh Tabby?” The voice had come out of nowhere, but it was familiar enough by this point that it didn’t make her jump.
“Yeah, so? “ She tried desperately to make her voice sound belligerent, but couldn’t help punctuating with a smile.
Tabitha looked up and locked eyes with a man who looked like he belonged on an Ivy League college campus somewhere. He gave the impression of being a solid block of brown. Tousled brown curls faded down into his brown cardigan which melded into his brown tweed pants. It was only his eyes and his shoes that gave him away. Bookending his appearance with bright blue and orange.
She hated that she had to be in this section and he had come to know this fact well.
“Come to make fun of me again Bryce?” Again, she couldn’t quite keep the smile out of her voice.
He chuckled, “Me? I’m entirely too nice a guy to make fun of you Tabby, you know that. But you’ve not started clapping yet, so perhaps you’re looking for a different book? How about this one?” Without really looking he grabbed another book off the shelf and handed it to her.
"When Depression is Your Friend: How To Bilk Sympathy From Friends, Family, and Co-Workers” Her eyes narrowed as she read the title. “Oh, so now you’re trying to insinuate something instead of just being obnoxious?”
“Ah, you give me far too much credit Tab. I’m just here to help you wade through the next section of books. Maybe one of these weeks, you’ll actually find what you’re looking for.”
This time she had no trouble keeping the laughter out of her voice as she lowered her eyes to shield herself from his vision. “That’s just wishful thinking at this point Bryce,” she muttered.
He pulled the book from her hand and let it drop softly on the fluffy armchair, simultaneously reaching for another. This one he read aloud, “’From Delinquent to Diva: How to get your Bling on a Budget!’” He managed to deliver this title with such seriousness that she could not help but laugh out loud.
She collected herself again and paused to look at him. Tabitha found that he was looking back at her with such compassion in his eyes that she was momentarily stunned. How could she keep doing this every week? Coming back to this same bookstore, looking for some semblance of sanity. Looking for anything to latch on to, something to give her a way to make it through the oversaturation of her life. Where do you start when all you’re looking for is the perfect sentence to make it all make sense? Because until recently when ever morning held a tidal wave of sensory overload, it had all been manageable. Sure she was snarky and bitchy and wielded her words like a whip, but it was manageable. And she found that mostly, people loved her for her quirks rather than not.
For the last several months, every Saturday, she had been at this bookstore. Looking for the perfect words, the perfect way to organize those words and the perfect intonation to them to say to herself over and over again so that all doubt would be stamped out of existence. So she could be left with the confidence and purpose she had known for so much of her life.
Bryce had emerged from the shadows one afternoon, his blue eyes playful and his orange shoes the very tip of his idiosyncrasy iceberg. He had handed her a book, this one carefully chosen, which she took with some reticence, but still with a glimmer of hope. She had ended up on the floor from laughing so hard after that one: “If Life’s a Bowl of Cherries, You’re Not Drinking Enough Manhattans.”
And every Saturday since then he had found her, in this bookstore, in this section, in this chair. So far he had helped her get through most of the self help section of the bookstore. She had begun to wonder what was going to happen when they ran out of books. Maybe they could move on to the travel section in the next row. But then she’d have to leave her chair. Maybe she’d just start over.
Just as Tabitha had settled herself back into the chair, swinging her legs over one broad arm, Bryce arrived with a whole armful of books and plopped them in her lap with a smug look of self satisfaction on his face.
“Wha-?”
“Well, I’m tired of this hunting and pecking routine you’ve got going. So I thought I’d introduce a little efficiency to the process by bringing you several at once.” He looked so proud of himself that she grimaced in response.
“No? Hmmmm…”
He grabbed a handful of books for himself and sat down on the floor in front of the chair and started going through each one, reading it aloud and then tossing it over his shoulder:
“If You're Waiting For Your Prince To Come, All You'll Get are Frogs"
“Go from Doormat to Dreamgirl in Five Easy Steps!”
“Turn Dump City into Trump City!”
“Get a Life, Not a Job!”
“I Moved Your Cheese Because You’re Too Fat”
“Learn How to Change the Locks: When Loving the One You’re With Just Isn’t Enough”
“Are you Sure It’s Not Time To Think About Settling?”
“Fairytales Do End: It’s Called Adultery”
She started to protest but she was caught so completely by the books titles that she just sat there getting buried deeper by the books he was so nonchalantly throwing over his shoulder directly into her lap. He finished his pile of books and turned to look back at her with a huge smile on his face. It took her a moment to realize that she was sobbing. Tears oozing down her cheeks as if they were being squeezed out of a toothpaste tube. His smile vanished.
“Oh, Tabby, I’m so sorry! I was just trying to keep you laughing. To show you how silly these books are. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He was facing her now, kneeling at eye level with her, his face so apologetic and earnest that she had a hard time looking away from him. In a split second she just decided she didn’t care anymore. In one brief moment she released the strangle hold she had on her life, her emotions and just let it all go. Her sobbing increased as she fell to the side awkwardly, trusting that he would catch her before she toppled, books and all, onto her face onto the floor. He did and she leaned heavily into him.
She let it all gush out of her. As if her tear ducts were some central line to her own private reservoir of feeling. She had committed fully to just letting it all come now. Letting herself cry for as long as she needed it. But then, out of nowhere, she found herself laughing. He tensed underneath her, thinking perhaps that she was renewing her overflow of sadness. Suddenly though, those tears of pain and loss and fear were converted to tears of laughter, joy and discovery. She took one deep breath and let out the loudest laugh she’d ever heard or uttered. Pulling back from his arms to meet his confused eyes, she continued to giggle.
“Are you ok?” he asked cautiously.
“I’m hungry”
His face melted into a smile at this response as he cupped her cheek for a moment. Bryce stood up slowly to give Tabitha a chance to regain her own balance and then gently pulled her from underneath the hill of books under which she was buried.
She laced her fingers into his as she met his eyes.
“I like your shoes.”
They both grinned and made their way back out into the wind.
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