A Short Walk to the Bookshop

by Aleksandra Drake

  "Not many people know this, but for years after she died I was in this constant state of dull panic. Every time I got a headache I convinced myself that I had somehow caught her brain cancer, that I was going to be dead soon too. Every time I felt the slightest twinge of discomfort in my body, it's ridiculous, but immediately I would resign myself to an early grave. I've always been a timid sort of person, but I was never fearful like this until she died. Any time something good happened, to me or just within my sight, it's as if I couldn't trust it. If Catherine could die before she turned thirty, no horror was impossible."

  There was so much I could say, things my therapists and doctors had told me, about trauma-induced hypochondria and post traumatic stress. But he didn't need to hear that then. I merely nodded, and sat nearer to him. He stared at our hands, clasped in his lap.

  "Do you still feel like that?" I asked quietly.

  Looking up at me, he shook his head minutely. "Not all the time."

  There was something so unspeakably sad about those simple words. My heart clenched and I wanted to throw my arms around him, but it occurred to me that he may not want me to. Not with how selfish I had been.

  "I've been a bad friend to you," I said.

  He tilted his head slightly to the side, questioning.

  "I can't believe I never asked until now."

  "I might not have told you until now," he answered.

  "Regardless, I've laid all of my own drama at your feet and you've been an angel. I haven't done anything to deserve it. I've never given you anything.

  "Your drama is a touch more immediate than mine, I think." He said with a small grin "And you've given me plenty. More than you think."

  "I’ll be a better friend now. Please tell me anything, and I'll help you too, like you've helped me."

  Once again he looked at me like he was going to kiss me. I watched his eyes dart down to my lips. But once again, he didn't. He merely touched the side of my face momentarily, then let his arm drop back down.

  "Will you read to me again, like before?"

  "I'd love to."

  Abandoning dinner, I laid across his lap, using his legs as a pillow as he flicked through the pages of a nearby book, finally settling on some passage he was familiar with. As he read, I let my eyes close. After a while, he dragged his fingertips through my hair, making my scalp shimmer with tingles down my neck and shoulders. A pleasurable shudder went through me and he paused momentarily, but then continued. I don't know how many pages he read before I fell asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  I don’t know how long we slept on the couch, but when I woke up it was pitch black in the room and Diedrich was wriggling, obviously trying and failing to get more comfortable without waking me up. I pushed myself up off of him and rubbed my eyes.

  “Whoops.”

  He laughed, stifling a groan as he sat up too, arching his neck over the back of the couch..

  “This couch is awful,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep and his hand working a knot in his neck “You should take my bed tonight, I can’t let a guest sleep on this thing in good conscience.”

  “But then you have to sleep here, that’s not fair either.”

  He didn’t say anything and for a moment I thought he might have fallen back asleep.

  “Diedrich?”

  “Hmm?” Maybe he had fallen back asleep, his little hum of affirmation was hardly audible.

  “Lets both sleep in the bed. But listen, I know I might be sending you mixed signals but, I just want to sleep. Is that okay? Can I sleep next to you and not do anything more?”

  “Sparrow,” I could just see the bridge of his nose and the shine of his eyes in the inky blackness, but I knew he was looking at me. “I hope you know that I have no intention of ever putting you in a position where you feel like you need to fend me off.”

  “I assumed so, but I wanted to be clear.”

  “You are. I can try to make a more coherent argument for myself in the morning but for right now at least, know that I’m old and tired and I’ll be asleep as soon as I lay down. You will be perfectly safe.”

  By the sound of his voice I knew it was true and, lured my the promise of a proper bed and undisturbed sleep, I followed him out of the living room, picking up my backpack of things he’d brought from my house.

  “I’m just going to get my nightgown on in the bathroom.”

  He murmured a vague affirmation and we took turns in his tidy, tiny bathroom.

  His bedroom was basically what I would have guessed judging by the rest of his house, cluttered yet with his particular brand of orderliness, comfortable and not in the least bit ostentatious or decorative. I hardly had time to see it, though, before he flipped off the switch and we clambered under the blankets. While I laid there next to him I thought to myself that I would want to remember this night, and all the details of how it felt to sleep next to him, but I fell asleep almost before the thought fully formed.

  Waking up in Diedrich's bed, in Diedrich's arms, was like waking up from a coma. I was heavy and sluggish, like I’d slept for days. I felt grateful to be alive. The sunlight worked its way through his blinds and slanted across the bed, creating channels of heat across my legs and stomach. I didn't dare move, because his breathing was so slow that he had to still be fast asleep and I’d slept with my head cradled in the crook of his arm so that I wouldn’t be able to slide out of the bed without jostling him. I laid still, remembering that I’d fallen asleep with a respectable gap between his body and mine, and not remembering how I’d ended up nestled up against him.

  Why was it that long, black eyelashes thick as combs were always wasted on men, who couldn’t appreciate them properly? My gaze lingered over the contours of his face, asymmetrical and striking. This face was so familiar to me now, after only a few short months of friendship. It seemed like I’d known these cheekbones and this slightly slanted mouth my whole life.

  My phone rang, muffled, from the pocket of my jeans which were folded on a chair on the far wall. I sat up and he stirred, wrinkling his nose. My skin prickled, knowing he was watching me as I got out from under the blankets to answer it.

  "Sparrow, this is Laura with the police. We'd like to see you today to talk about your case and discuss our plans for moving forward." Laura's voice was authoritative and business-like, but not devoid of warmth. She had a voice that made me want to trust her, even though the police had shown me in the past that there was nothing they could do to help me.

  "Sure. Okay. What time?"

  "Three, if that's alright. Here at the station, if you don't mind."

  "Okay." I glanced at Diedrich, who had gotten up and was choosing a shirt from his closet but clearly listening to me.

  "I'm going to talk to the police again today," I told him when I hung up. "She wouldn't say much over the phone."

  "Do you want me along? The shop is closed today."

  "Please."

  "Okay. Fresh towels are in the closet at the back of the hallway. I'm going to run across the street for food."

  A few minutes later when I was getting a towel for a shower, I had to laugh. Even his linen closet had books in it, with only the top three shelves being used for towels and sheets and things. The shower, at least, was absent of books. But then, it was likewise absent of conditioner or proper body wash. A bar of soap and that horrible "2-in-1" shampoo/conditioner concoction was all I had to make do with. I stood still, letting the steaming water run over me for a few minutes. There was something thrilling about being naked in his house, even if he wasn't there.

  Hearing the front door open and the sound of shopping bags being placed on the counter, I hurriedly finished washing my hair. Toweling off quickly, I pulled one of the dresses he'd brought from my house over my head and shook out my hair as best I could before going to find him, like a moth to a flame.

  "I wasn't sure what you liked," he said, looking at the bags he'd bought. "There's eggs, cereal, fruit, uh...pancake mix. I have a waff
le maker..." He looked around frantically, pulling down the waffle maker from on top of the fridge. "I haven't had much luck with it. But you can try if you want."

  "Okay," I laughed.

  "I'll shower now."

  I didn't end up having much luck with the waffle maker either, but Diedrich didn't seem to mind my mangled pancakes, and ate them while his hair dripped onto his collar. He talked about needing to do some straightening up in the shop later on, and asked if I was nervous about what what the officers would tell me.

  “Not really. I’ve done this before, so I pretty much know what they’ll say. They’re doing the best they can but they can’t keep me under 24/7 surveillance. Take precautions. Let them know if anything happens. Yadda yadda.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched up in a pitying smile, but it didn’t annoy me as much as it might have. So what if he felt bad for me? I felt bad for me too.

  Officer Laura met us in the stark, clean lobby of the police station, her eyes going from me, to Athena, to Diedrich. I thought everything looked a little bit green under the fluorescent lights.

  "Well, I'll get right to the point." She said, resting her hands on the top of her belt from which hung her gun and various other instruments. "We've been watching your house and we haven't seen anything. Not a peep. Not a movement. Now personally I think there's a good chance he got whiff of cops and got spooked. Whether that means he'll stay away or not...we can't know. Are you staying with him?” She nodded at Diedrich.

  "Yes," I said.

  “And what address it that?”

  Diedrich gave her the street address then added “Above the bookstore.”

  "Oh, right. I thought I knew you. I remember that break in you had a few years back" she said, nodding.

  “Yes,” he said with a polite smile.

  "So?" I asked "What will you do now?"

  Laura crossed her arms, taking a stance that was at once defensive and sympathetic. "I'm afraid there's not much more that can be done at this point. His name and description has been left with all the hotels around here, and his parole agents are tracking his accounts so if he uses his credit card, it'll ding us. So far he seems to be lying pretty low though. As soon as something happens, you'll be the first to know."

  "Is it safe? At my house?"

  "As safe as we can make it, Sparrow," she said. "We’re continuing to patrol the area regularly."

  "Okay." I felt the too familiar sensation of tears welling behind my eyes, but I held my breath. I was sick of being a crybaby. I needed to grow up. It wasn’t as if I’d expected anything different from this meeting, it was just still so frustrating to be told that nothing can be done.

  "We are doing the best we can."

  "Okay. Thanks. Is that all?"

  Laura nodded.

  I stood up, Athena hopping to her feet with me and Diedrich following suit slightly behind. I wanted to get out of there. I hated the smell of police stations and the way my shoes squeaked on the tile floors.

  "Sparrow, are you alright?" Diedrich was at my heels and, noticing that I was walking so briskly I was nearly running, I slowed down.

  "Yep. I'm fine," I lied. He knew I was lying, but all he could do was give a small, sad little smile.

  "Do you still want to stay with me or is there something else you want to do?" he asked once we were in the car headed back after that colossal waste of time and energy at the station.

  "How long are you willing to keep me?" I asked bluntly.

  He did a double take at me, trying to read my face while keeping focused on the road at the same time. "As long as you need. As long as you want."

  "I’m serious. Give me a number. How many days?"

  He scoffed, shaking his head. "Sparrow." He sounded exasperated. "There isn't a number. Indefinitely. You can stay indefinitely. If you are not safe when you’re alone, then I don't want you going back. Or, if you are more comfortable, I can stay with you at your house. Or we can find someone else to, if you prefer. You have many friends who would help you. I want whatever you want."

  "I don't know."

  "You don't need to decide once and for all right now. Or ever. We can take everything a day at a time, okay?"

  "Can I help you in the shop today?" I asked, grasping at any sense of feeling like a useful, productive member of society.

  "Oh, I'm counting on it.” he said

  Back at the shop, I got Athena settled under the table in the back with a toy and followed Diedrich around like a baby duckling until he set me to a task. The coffee machine needed to be washed through and that whole station needed to be tidied up. A part of me wondered if he was just making busy work for me out of pity, but the greater part of me didn't care. It was something to do.

  I took the glass carafe to the little bathroom sink to rinse it out and scrub it down with soap, but I couldn't get a grip on myself. I just kept imagining Laura, standing there with her arms crossed. She was just like Officer David from back home. Full of promises and kind words about how they are doing their best but, sorry, I'm just shit out of luck because there's nothing they can do about the unhinged fucker trying to destroy my life. There was no one who could help me. There was no one who could stop him. It would just go on like this forever, he would send me things, shove notes under my door, pretend to be me on-line and humiliate me to my friends and family. And then he'd stop. And I would wonder how much of it had been in my head all along. I'd go back to therapy. I'd get better. I might even move again. But then he'd come back. He always came back. He was always coming back. He was my shadow, never running up on me but, slowly, steadily, getting closer and closer all the time.

  One day he would catch me alone. I knew that somewhere deep inside, somewhere primal. I understood that a story like this didn't end without a climactic finish. It wouldn't peter out gently. No. One day he would catch me alone. I didn't think about how that day would end, it was chilling enough just to know it was coming. My mother had once bought me a taser to carry around with me but I didn’t know where it was now or if I’d even brought it when I moved. I’d thought I’d be safe in Washington. I wondered if I should call mom and ask her to send it to me.

  As I dusted around the small pyramid of coffee mugs, I knocked one to the ground and it's handle shattered against the side of the table as it fell.

  "Fuck!" I exclaimed.

  Diedrich materialized around the corner, looking flush and worried.

  "What happened?"

  "I broke a fucking mug," I said, dropping to my knees and collecting the pieces.

  He was next to me instantly, carefully taking the ceramic shards from my hands. "Be careful,” he said. "You scared me, I thought something..."

  I couldn't hold back the sniff. The tears from earlier were unstoppable now.

  "Goddamn it," I sobbed. "I'm sorry. Ignore me."

  I scrubbed furiously at my face. Ridiculous. When I looked up at him I immediately wished that I hadn't. The worry on his face was like a knife in my stomach, twisting sharply. I was making him miserable. I'd forced myself under his skin and for what? To punish him with my own melodrama?

  "I'm just frustrated. I'm sorry. Nothing is changing and I'm tired of hearing that everyone is doing everything they can and yet nothing is changing." I rattled off, fighting to control the tears in my eyes. I took a deep, shuddering breath. Diedrich's hand was on my back, comforting me, as always.

  "I would be frustrated too. I am frustrated, for you,” he said, brushing his thumb over my cheek, sending an electric shock down my spine. "Come and have coffee with me. This work can wait."

  He helped me back up to my feet and laid the broken bits of the mug in a small mound on the corner of the table. I insisted on making the coffee, even though he attempted to do it himself.

  "Please, let me do something for you for a change," I said, and he didn't have an argument against it.

  With him sitting on the couch watching me, I felt like I'd never made a pot of coffee before. My hands shook and I ended
up adding too much grounds and making an unusually strong pot. But when I handed him a mug and he took a sip, he didn't wince or make any comment about it. I sat down next to him on the couch, sipping the bitter drink.

  "You were angry at the police station," he said after a time.

  "Mm," I hummed in agreement.

  "I imagine that your experience with law enforcement in regards to your situation has been...less than satisfactory."

  I sighed. "I try to be understanding. I understand that there isn't much more that they can do, especially when he goes into hiding like this. It's just that...I don't know, you grow up being told this story about how police are always there to help, like heroes, and if you go to them with your problems everything will end up okay. Obviously life isn't that tidy. It's just hard, when you put your trust in people, to keep being reminded over and over again that they're just human and there’s nothing out there that can just swoop in and fix your problems for you."