A Short Walk to the Bookshop

by Aleksandra Drake

  "It's not your fault,” he said, but I'd heard it so many times it didn't really stick in my mind. It just kind of slid on through.

  "I know," I said blandly.

  "Do you?" He was ducking his head down, looking at me, trying to make me look at him.

  "What can I do? What do you need me to do?" he asked after a long pause.

  "I wish I knew. I'm sorry I'm difficult."

  He did hug me then, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and squeezing. I didn't know how to react except to chuckle weirdly and lean into him.

  "I think it will help just knowing that you know," I mumbled.

  "Is this why you haven't been sleeping? Have the packages been coming for long?"

  I nodded, nudging my nose against the crook between his neck and his shoulder. If he didn't move from this position for the rest of the night I might have been able to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Sparrow sighed, her body growing heavier against him. That subtle shifting of weight, the way he could physically feel when she let go of the stress in her muscles, was the only way he could know that what he was doing was helping. There had been a sick feeling in his stomach ever since she'd grown agitated in his car. At first he had feared that he had overstepped some boundary without realizing it, making her uncomfortable. But that sick feeling had only gotten worse, twisting in his stomach painfully when she explained what was happening to her.

  It had been going on for some time, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt that she'd been suffering silently the whole time. Had he not made it obvious that he was there for her? That she could come to him for anything?

  The warm sigh against the skin of his neck was plenty to soothe his wounded ego. After all, she had every reason in the world to be wary of men. Whether he liked it or not, he would always represent a threat to, not only her, but any of the millions of women who'd been punished for their trust in men. And yet she sank against him.

  He held her until she straightened up. She was so pale she looked almost translucent and so tired.

  "Was the trip to the ledge too much?" he asked.

  "No." She was emphatic. "No. I'm glad that I went. I love my friends."

  Even in this dark moment, her face lightened slightly when she looked up at him. He had to wonder what she would be like if this man had never targeted her. Looking at her now was like trying to look through a dirty window. There was color on the other side, vague shapes and the impression of movement, but everything was clouded over and hidden.

  His heart ached. There was nothing he could do.

  It was getting late, and he knew she had to sleep. Whether she was able to or not, she had to try. But as he gravitated towards the door, she grew more and more frantic. It was kept in check, but there was a jerkiness to her movements, a wildness to her eyes. As he stood in the threshold to the outside, her fingers were white where they gripped the door frame.

  "I don't.." he began, chewing the inside of his cheek anxiously. "I don't want to frighten you, or overstep my bounds."

  She stared at him and the muscles in her neck worked as she gulped.

  "Would it help if I stayed?" he forced the words out. Not because he was less than fully willing to sleep on the couch, but because he knew his offer could be misinterpreted in a way that could make her feel even worse.

  She stared at him, her lips parting, then closing again.

  "I ..." She looked away.

  "It's fine. I just needed to ask. To make sure."

  "I don't want to be like this. Needy, you know?"

  "Based on what you've told me, I don't think you’re overreacting. Not at all. And if having someone here, just so you aren't alone, will help you get some sleep then I can do that. I wish there was more I could do."

  "I don't know if it will help." She said, "but can I try? One night?"

  He could swear that the quilt she brought out with the set of bedding to put on the couch was handmade. Diedrich traced a finger over the imperfect stitches as Sparrow fluttered around the living room trying to make it more comfortable for him. He would have slept on the floor for all he cared. But she was adamant that he have an armload of pillows and two separate blankets.

  It was obvious that she was nervous. She seemed preoccupied with the worry that she was a burden on people, but how many times could he tell her that it was fine and that he was happy to do it before she would think that he was too eager? So he let her flutter without comment.

  "I have a spare toothbrush," she said.

  Diedrich chuckled. "You do?"

  "It was cheaper to get a three pack,” she mumbled.

  Not long later, with a new toothbrush placed next to his belt on the coffee table, Diedrich leaned back into the pile of pillows and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to listen to the faint rustling sounds of Sparrow changing her clothes and getting into bed in the next room. He closed his eyes and furiously wondered why his heart rate was so high.

  He hadn't slept anywhere but in his own bed for over twenty years. That was all.

  The springs in her bed creaked.

  He slept lightly, waking at least once to the sound of her feet quietly padding to the front door and trying the lock. He laid there, frozen still, pretending to be asleep. If she needed him, she would ask. After a moment, she went silently back to her room.

  She must have fallen asleep at some point because she wasn't up when Diedrich sat up in the morning light, rubbing his neck. He'd hoped that she would be awake. What was he supposed to do in her house with her still sleeping? Sliding his feet into his shoes, he wandered towards the large bookcase. There was a lot to be learned about a person by what they kept on their shelves. Much of what was there were books he recognized. Books she'd bought from him. There were so many.

  "Good morning."

  He jumped. How could her footsteps have been loud enough to wake him from sleep but quiet enough that she'd sneak up on him in broad daylight? She was standing in the hallway, draped in a loose t-shirt and shorts that showed her thighs. She was thinner than he’d thought. Or, perhaps, thinner than she had been just a month or so ago.

  "Good morning."

  "Let me make you coffee." She disappeared into the kitchen and he followed her. "You're always making coffee for me, now I can return the favor."

  Diedrich grinned, appreciating the way the morning sun glimmered on the locks of hair that had fallen from the messy bun piled on top of her head. "No one has made me coffee in...God...years."

  "Years? Really?"

  He shrugged.

  "Are you in pain?" she asked, spooning coffee grounds into a French press.

  "What?"

  She chuckled. "You're rubbing your neck. I'm sorry I made you sleep on the couch."

  Diedrich had had coffee with Sparrow so many times, but she must have prepared it differently than he did. He felt, that morning, like he'd never properly tasted coffee before. And the way she sat at the kitchen table, her feet pulled up and cross-legged under the table, her cheeks pink in the morning sun, he knew that she must have slept. Such a small thing, really. Most people have the expectation of regular sleep. But it felt like an extraordinary success to him.

  "I guess you have to get going if you’re going to open the store on time," she said after a while.

  “Unless there’s anything else you need?”

  She shook her head. “I feel much better after sleeping. Having a watchman made all the difference.”

  “Oh good. Good. I really didn’t mind the couch.”

  She smiled but didn’t seem to believe him.

  At the door, she suddenly stopped him, reaching out to touch his hair.

  "If you must risk being seen leaving my house at nine in the morning, let's at least tame your hair slightly, hm?"

  Diedrich hadn't even known his hair was sticking up, but of course it was. Of course it was. She rose onto her tiptoes, inches from his face, her fingertips combing through his hair and Diedrich stopped breathing. Withou
t thinking, his hand came up to touch the side of her cheek and she froze.

  What was he doing? What was he supposed to do now? Kiss her? He glanced down at her lips and regretted it when they parted slightly. Well, regret is a complicated word.

  He took a breath and was surprised at the way it shuddered. It was like that first breath you take after crying. He dropped his hand from her face and she fell back onto her heels, losing several inches.

  They looked away from each other and Diedrich was overcome with the realization that he'd broken something. There was no coming back from that.

  "I'll see you soon," she said, looking over his right shoulder. “Thank you again.”

  He cleared his throat, made some kind of affirmative grunt, and left.

  He planned on going home and showering, maybe eating something, and opening late. But Stephen was waiting in his car outside the shop so instead of climbing the stairs, he opened the shop.

  "Are you hungover?" Stephen asked.

  "I haven't been drunk in years.”

  "You look like you slept in your clothes. Where were you walking from?”

  "What?" Diedrich snapped.

  “Sorry," Stephen said and immediately Diedrich felt bad for being short with him. Of course Stephen would want to know what was going on, if he apparently looked drunk and was seen staggering home in the morning. He couldn't quite apologize though. Instead he settled on flipping on the coffee maker at the back of the shop.

  Of all his acquaintances, it was probably for the best that Stephen was the one who was there that morning. He was the stoic one, and the one who, as a high school teacher, had the most experience dealing with emotional outbursts and romantic confusion. Diedrich made him coffee and Stephen abandoned his perusal of the stacks to sit at the table. He looked up at Diedrich expectantly. Patient but determined. Diedrich felt somewhat like he'd been summoned to the principal’s office.

  "You were with Sparrow, weren't you?"

  Diedrich clicked his tongue, and looked away. "It's not what you think."

  "So what is it?"

  Diedrich tapped the side of his own coffee. His second cup of the morning. The crick in his neck throbbed and he wished he could just explain everything to Stephen.

  "It's not really my place to tell you the details. She’s not well.”

  Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Is it serious?"

  Slowly, Diedrich nodded, taking a sip of the bitter coffee.

  "Is she sick?"

  "She's not sick. Well, the sickness is... It's complicated. I really can't tell you. That's for her to share or not share."

  "She shared it with you, though."

  "I'm her friend." Diedrich said off hand, taking a large gulp of the coffee now, which burned his throat.

  "Diedrich, I have to ask."

  Diedrich raised his eyebrows. "Do you, really?" being implied heavily by his tight lipped expression. For some reason, Stephen didn't seem to notice.

  "Are you sleeping with her?"

  "No." Diedrich said, maybe a little too quickly, with a little bit too much vehemence.

  "Do you want to?"

  Diedrich straightened up, leaning back in his seat uncomfortably. This one, he knew, should have been an easy question. It should have been just as easy to answer as the one before. But he didn't know if he wanted to sleep with Sparrow. On the face of it, the thought of betraying her trust in him as someone safe, someone nonthreatening, made him sick to his stomach.

  "I don't think so. I get a little confused, I don't know. She's very pretty, isn't she? And she trusts me for some reason. It's flattering, I guess. Yes, I guess that's it. I'm flattered. But no, I don't think it's like that." Diedrich finally said to the patiently waiting man opposite him.

  "How long has it been, now? Since Catherine?"

  "Why would you bring her up?" hearing his wife's name said out loud was a physical shock, like a lightning strike from a blue sky.

  Stephen made a face like it was obvious. "You've been in the position to be "flattered" by many women throughout these years. You never noticed any of them. What's different now?"

  "I don't know. I really don't know. She’s easy to be around, kind of quiet like me. She’s a little mysterious, maybe.”

  "Intelligent but shy.” Stephen supplied. “Similar to you in that way, really. I suppose it makes sense.”

  Diedrich pauses, sipping his drink. “I guess we are similar in some ways.”

  "She’s what, thirty? Thirty-two?" Stephen asked.

  "Too young for me." Diedrich said with a depreciating laugh. "So all of this worrying is for nothing, in the end."

  "You're right that she is too young for you, but she's also old enough to decide those things for herself. And, speaking as a friend, it’s evident that she’s brought out some life in you. I was genuinely surprised when you took us up on the offer to watch the meteor shower. And you’ve been taking part in the book club. You’ve never really joined in on much of anything before. Nothing huge but in all the time I’ve known you you’ve never been sociable like that..”

  "Can I help you find a book, Stephen?" Diedrich said, rising to his feet.

  "Alright, alright." Stephen raised his hands up in the air "I'll lay off. I'm sorry for insisting. I just want to be in the know of what's happening in my friend's life. I kept waiting for you to talk to me about her but I was going to be dead before you got around to telling me."

  As he walked by, Diedrich patted Stephen's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have even known what to say. There's not much to say."

  "That's fine." Stephen was standing up too, and wandering towards the philosophy section. "Just reassure me that she's alright. Some days she looks fine but other times she doesn't look well at all. I notice but don’t feel like it’s my place to ask her.

  "She's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. She's stronger than any of us give her credit for, I think."

  "And she's got you to look after her,” Stephen said.

  Diedrich was going to reply, but Stephen was already absorbed in a new-to-him edition of the Republic.

  -----

  I walked around half dazed for a couple days after the almost-kiss. There was something both agonizing and perfect in that odd in-between space. Halfway between friends and more than friends, there was a strange kind of freedom in that. I’d never really thought about kissing Diedrich before, but now I couldn’t stop thinking about it. In the moment, I had been a little bit worried. A little tense. I’d considered, of course, the possibility that he was only being nice to me because he wanted me. I was determined, however, to be normal. To be excited when a kind man thought about kissing me, rather than afraid.

  Besides, he had ultimately decided not to. The thought that he could like me, but not act on it, put me at ease.

  Having something foolish and normal to occupy my mind did me a lot of good. I had half a mind to call him up and tell him that, apparently, the best medicine for obsessive thoughts and paranoia is a hearty dose of romantic confusion. I managed to kill an entire afternoon amusing myself with imagining how he would respond to a phone call like that. I felt odd, almost giddy, and I wanted to talk to someone. He was my first thought, but then I had to laugh, because he wasn’t my only friend anymore.

  I called Paula.

  “Are you at work?”

  “Would I answer my phone if I was?”

  I pressed my lips together in a restrained smile. She probably would.

  “That’s a long pause, Sparrow.” Paula laughed. “I’m at home, what’s up?”

  “If you come over now and listen to me talk about a boy, I’ll buy you pizza.”

  She told me the pizza wasn’t necessary and that she was already putting on her shoes before I even hung up. I ordered pizza anyway. She arrived well before the food did.

  “I assume you mean Diedrich,” she said, not ten minutes later, standing in my kitchen.

  “Yeah. Uh...what do you know about him?” I asked.

/>   Paula shrugged, helping herself to a glass of water from the tap. “Not a lot, really. He keeps to himself for the most part. I’ve never heard of him doing anything bad or like..gossip about him, though. Why?”

  “He almost kissed me. I’m gathering intelligence before I decide if he’s allowed to or not.”