A Short Walk to the Bookshop

by Aleksandra Drake

  I didn’t mean to startle him, but he jumped about a foot in the air when I asked what he was doing. I needed to announce my presence though, I needed to hear his voice before he went back to bed. And once he was closer to me, his dark eyes soft and sleepy, stepping into his arms was as natural as breathing.

  I had expected something much more energetic. I thought that finally kissing Diedrich would wake something up in me. Like I'd kiss him and my heart would run a marathon and I'd soar above the treetops.

  The reality was something much calmer. He surrounded me and my mind went silent, my shoulders lowered, my breathing slowed as if sleeping. I felt fluid, adaptable and calm. Like I could absorb everything and never crack. I felt like nothing could hurt me.

  I couldn't conjure up an image of Adrien. I couldn't think of anything. There was only this moment, this kitchen, his hands and lips on me.

  When it ended he touched his forehead to mine for a moment, then he whispered goodnight, so close and quiet I felt it more than I heard it. I obeyed, but his fingers didn't leave my skin until I was beyond his grasp, and he stood there silently watching, until I was back in the blankets, curled towards the back of the couch.

  I listened to his footsteps back to his room and the soft sound of his door touching the frame but not clicking shut all the way. And I slept.

  I woke to the smell of coffee. The smell of Diedrich's coffee, specifically. With my eyes closed, I could swear I was downstairs in the shop. The only thing that gave it away was the sound of his steps on the tiles giving away the fact that he was barefoot.

  When I followed the scent to the kitchen, the night before swirled around me. Everything was bright now, but he only looked more beautiful for the clearer picture. I could tell that he slept on his right side because of how his hair stood up on that side. I had to laugh.

  "What's that?" He asked without looking up from the dishes he was washing

  "How does your hair do that?"

  That got his attention, he looked at me with his brows raised

  "Do what?"

  "It just...stays." I said, stepping close enough to run my fingers through it, making it even messier.

  "Oh, it's awful. It's done that since I was a boy. My mother was constantly licking her hands and smoothing it down,” he said, blushing and flattening his hair with both hands.

  "Oh no! Licking her hands!" I exclaimed, imagining Diedrich as a little boy sporting maternal saliva for his first day of school.

  He giggled. Yes, giggled, and shook his head like he could clear away the memory like an etch-a-sketch.

  His gaze went from my eyes to my lips and I waited for him to kiss me. He didn't.

  “Listen, Sparrow. I want to apologize for last night. It wasn’t right for me to do that after the day you had.”

  I felt myself blushing, and something crushed inside my chest. “I asked you to kiss me.”

  “I know. I know that.” He turned away from me back to the stove. “But you were exhausted and after everything that happened, maybe not in the best state of mind to be asking such things.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I’ve been alone for a long time now,” he continued. “I’m sure I’m more than rusty on the finer points of uh...relationships with women. I don’t want you to think that my help comes with conditions.”

  I considered attempting to convince him that I had never thought that about him, but I didn’t think he’d hear it just then. Instead, I just nodded. He was being careful. I liked that about him, even if it meant I wouldn’t get another kiss that morning.

  "I was thinking, I could go to your house myself and get your things," he said, his voice lighter and breaking the awkwardness of the atmosphere.

  "It's not safe."

  He shrugged "Not for you. I've spoken to Officer Laura this morning and they say there's not been any activity there in the night. It's possible he isn't even in town. He may assume it's too risky to stay so close."

  "You spoke to Laura this morning?" I asked "How long have you been up?"

  The clock over the stove said eight in the morning.

  "A while." He said with a small smile. "Just make me a list of what you need. I'm expecting Stephen to be by the shop this morning, I can leave you with him and be right back."

  "I'm sorry."

  “Please don’t be. Any friend would do as much.”

  I got back into my clothes from the day before, reluctantly parting with the oversized t-shirt he'd lent me to sleep in. It was so soft and comfortable, I wondered how I had ever slept in anything else. My keys were still in my pants pocket, and I tossed them to Diedrich.

  We walked down to the shop together, but once there I slipped into the bathroom to quietly call in to work. I didn't want Diedrich to know I was calling in. I didn't want him to question me. I just knew that if I went to work that day as scheduled, I would be separated from Diedrich. I couldn't be tethered to his side forever, but it was Saturday. If I skipped work today, I had the next two days off anyway. By my next shift, I might have my feet back underneath me. In three days, that was unlikely, but I had to hope.

  "Hey Paula." I said, trying to sound cheery while keeping my voice down.

  "Sparrow? What's up?" her voice was clear as a bell and cheery as one as well, just like always. It was nice to hear. It was so normal.

  "I need to talk to Heather. I don't think I will be able to come in today."

  "Sick?" She asked, her tone worried now

  "No." There was no point in lying. Besides, she might look out the window at any time and see me across the street in the bookshop. "Can I tell you later? I’m fine now, I just need a day to recover."

  "Oh, yeah hun. Of course. Heather isn't in yet. I can go ahead and let her know when she gets here if you want. Is there anything I can do?”

  "Not right now but I will see you soon okay? I’m at the bookshop, maybe you can come over on your lunch?”

  "Totally. Yeah. I will see you in a couple hours."

  “Thanks Paula, see you then.”

  I heard the bells on the front door ring and shoved my phone in my pocket, peering around the corner of the bathroom door, relaxing when I saw that it was just Stephen.

  Diedrich's eyes watched me as I walked into the room, but he kept talking to Stephen.

  "Actually, Stephen,” he said "I'm glad you're here. I have an important errand I need to run. Do you think you and Sparrow could hold down the fort for a few minutes?"

  Stephen furrowed his brow. "An errand? Is it urgent?"

  Diedrich shrugged apologetically.

  "Well yes. Of course I can." Stephen wasn't at all satisfied by the non-revealing shrug, it was plain as day on his face. But he wouldn't press Diedrich, who sidled out from behind the counter and headed to the door.

  "Try not to sell all of my inventory before I get back," Diedrich said by way of goodbye. His smile didn't waver as his gaze flicked over me, but there was a communication there all the same.

  I'll be right back. Don't worry.

  "Do you know where he's off to?" Stephen asked casually, wandering past me towards the back of the shop, going with the current that seemed to flow from the front door to the coffee machine.

  "Um..." I hesitated "It's a police matter."

  In a day I’d given up on keeping my past a secret. Diedrich and Paula’s enthusiastic support were tethers keeping my panic in check, and I remembered how cared for I’d felt at my birthday party.

  "A what?" Stephen looked disbelieving.

  "Not about him. About me. He's just....anyway...I have a stalker." Four words summed it up. So clean cut and unambiguous. "He followed me from Texas. It took him a while to find me but he's clever, I guess."

  There was a pregnant pause wherein Stephen just stared at me before muttering

  "Jesusmaryandjoseph."

  I shrugged.

  "That's horrific."

  "Yes, well. The police are on it now. And I have Diedrich helping out."
There was a strange feeling of detachment as I stood there in the bookshop so simply and bluntly explaining the issue that had caused the deterioration of my health over the past years to Stephen, who wore his horror so plainly on his expressive face.

  "And he's going.." he gestured to the front door.

  "Oh. He's going to my house to get my things."

  "Ah." Stephen seemed to understand that I was staying with Diedrich, but though the realization dawned on him visibly, he didn't say anything about it. "Good. That's good. Best not go back yourself."

  "That's what he thought, too."

  "Well. Nothing very bad can happen to you here at the bookshop, now, can it?" He said, grinning comfortingly and patting my shoulder. "You know, everyone here in town has come to love you and feel like you are a part of our family. I'm sure we won't let anyone do you any harm under our watch."

  A lump rose in my throat and I fought to hide it but I was sure he could see through me.

  My phone dinged and, eager for a distraction from the embarrassing wave of sentimental gratitude washing over me, I pulled it out of my pocket.

  "I forgot to have you make a list," the text from Diedrich said.

  "I've forgotten to tell him what I need from my house." I explained to Stephen, chuckling. "Just a sec."

  Dresses would be easiest for him to find, rather than outfits of several parts. My work uniform. Toothbrush. Medication. Birth control. Underwear, if the shame of imagining him rifling through my top drawer didn't outweigh the need for them. I drew a blank after that. Surely there was something else but, with how distressing the idea of Diedrich picking out my underwear for the next few days was, nothing else came to mind. That would have to do.

  As good and kind as Stephen was, it was a relief when Diedrich returned. I thought he winked at me when he came in, but spent the rest of the day doubting if I had really seen that.

  I folded myself into the gentle rhythm of the bookstore, shrinking away into a corner with a book to page through when customers came in, keeping next to Diedrich when we were alone. Paula came in with a sandwich and a can of coke around noon. She and I sat at the table at the back and Diedrich made himself scarce while we talked.

  “I’m glad you called in,” Paula said. “A nice quiet day is just what you need. If you ever need anything, anything at all, just let me know, okay?”

  I nodded and she leaned over in her seat to wrap me in a warm hug.

  “And,” she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “Let me know how things go with your librarian.”

  “Oh, things have already been going. I’ll text you about it, kay?”

  Paula’s eyes widened and she smiled, touching the side of her nose. “Message received. Mum’s the word. I better get back to work though. We’ll talk soon, alright?”

  When she left, the bookstore returned to it’s quiet, restive state. There was one time, near the end of the day, when I glanced at him and caught him looking at me. He looked embarrassed, and quickly returned to the till which he had been counting. That was the only indication I had had all day long that he was even thinking about what happened between us.

  "How did the house look?" I asked Diedrich as we walked up the stairs to his apartment at the end of the day.

  "I'm not exactly sure what state you left it in but it looked normal to me. Nothing obviously missing or askew. I washed your dishes."

  "You didn't."

  "Well I didn't know how long you would be with me. And it felt wrong to leave them like that." He laughed and unlocked the door, letting me into the little place that was becoming more welcoming with every time I stepped over it's threshold.

  "Did you tell Stephen?" he asked.

  "Yeah. He asked where you were going and it seemed easier than to lie. He told me that I was a part of the family now and that no one would let anything bad happen to me at the bookstore."

  Diedrich looked at me.

  "I almost cried," I admitted.

  He laughed again. He was heading to the kitchen and started rifling through the cupboards and, not knowing where else to stand, I followed him.

  "I'm not much of a cook, unfortunately." He apologized, but I couldn't have cared less if I tried. I watched him move around the kitchen, clearly self conscious but eager to please. He was so sweet. Just sweet. Kind and thoughtful and gentle. An angel, really. And despite everything, I was almost glad that I got to see him like this, in his element, comfortable and ordinary.

  "Give me something to do, please. I’m not much of a cook either but if we pool our skills we might be able to make something good." I asked, begging to be made useful. He put a knife in my hand and together we cooked a dinner of chicken and a somewhat random selection of veggies and spices cooked in a skillet. It was good.

  We ate on the couch, not wanting to disturb the stacks on the dining table. Diedrich had no tv, so with nothing else to distract myself I ended up staring at a wedding photo framed in the hallway. It was just visible from the couch, half shrouded in shadow. In it, Diedrich was hardly recognizable, with his hair cropped short and smiling much wider than I had ever seen in person. He looked to be mid-laugh, his eyes glittering. His bride leaned against him, her hand on his chest, beaming in a gown with a long veil. I had noticed the picture before.

  "How old were you when you got married?" I asked between mouthfuls.

  He quietly choked down the bite he'd been chewing.

  "Ah..twenty five."

  "Jesus. A baby."

  He looked at me, brows slightly raised, silently reminding me that I was less than a decade older than that now.

  "What was her name?" I asked it gently, gaging his discomfort by the way he softly placed his fork on his plate. The past tense was assumed. Divorced men don't keep wedding photos framed in their home.

  "Catherine. And it's been twenty one years since she died, if that was your next question." He was bristling. He wouldn't describe it that way but it was true. He shifted in his seat, twisting uncomfortably.

  "Sorry."

  He took five seconds to let out a single breath, then gave a smile that seemed to bring him back to his normal non-bristling state.

  "It's okay." He was gentle again, I could practically see him purposefully relaxing the muscles in his shoulders. "I'm sorry. She isn't spoken of much anymore, it's a little shocking when she’s brought up."

  I nodded, prepared to let the subject drop, but in the minutes that followed I was consumed with a singular question.

  "Diedrich,” I ventured. "Do you have any children?"

  "I don't, no." He said, pushing his plate away. "We were considering it just before her diagnosis. Four months later she was gone. She was twenty seven."

  "God, that's so young."

  "Actually, I was thinking about that the other day. And about something you said to me."

  I tensed, afraid of what comparison he was about to make.

  "How do I say this..." he began "I was thinking about what you said in the park that morning, when you told me about Adrien for the first time. How even when you had moved away and he was, as you thought at the time anyway, out of your life for good, You said it ‘messed you up.’ I hadn't considered it this way until you said that, but I think Catherine's death was a traumatizing experience for me. It seems so obvious, I don't know why I never considered it. I knew it was sad, obviously. I knew about grief. But I hadn't considered it in terms of trauma. But I think I got messed up, too.”

  "You're not messed up,” offered weakly, not knowing what else to say.

  He shrugged. "Her illness was so sudden and out of the blue. Here was this young woman, healthy, active, considering having a baby soon, and within months of seeing a doctor for a strange but not terribly alarming bout of vertigo, she's reduced to nothing. Inoperable. Dying. I didn't even have time to come to terms with her being sick before I had to try to come to terms with her being gone. Sparrow, it was horrific. Everyone around me acted as if it was just sad, but it was more than sad. It was t
errifying. If Catherine could just die like that out of the blue, anyone could. Of course we all know that death can come unexpectedly, but it's different to see it happen to someone you love."

  He went quiet, but I didn't say anything. He opened his mouth as if to speak once, then closed it again. I reached for his hand, worried that he might not take it, but he did. His fingers squeezed mine and he spoke again.