Diedrich nodded supportively.
"You should have been a therapist," I chuckled dryly.
He blinked. "What?"
"You have the therapist nod down pat."
"Huh. Fascinating. Tell me more."
I laughed, feeling fragile but better for having cried. It was something about his proximity and the warmth of the coffee and the smell of the books, it always felt like being tucked away in the shop was like being in a different world.
I took another sip of the strong coffee.
"When Catherine died, I felt like nothing would ever happen to me again. Like...I would never feel anything different. I was in such a state of shock and sadness, it felt like I'd broken my ability to feel anything other than shock and sadness. Or maybe I felt so much that I started feeling nothing at all. It took a long time, many years, but eventually I came, or I am coming, to realize that life can always change again. It could change in an instant," he said.
"I feel like I'm at the mercy of Adrien. My life changing is in his hands, not mine."
"Really?" Diedrich asked. His eyes were so brown just then, and warm, like there was a comforting fire just behind them. Immediately I regretted what I'd said. It wasn't true.
"No. Sorry, you're right. My life is different from when I first came here. It's better. Despite everything. Diedrich, I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me. If it weren't for you and the bookstore, I don't know what I would be doing. You just, I don't know, you just took me in right away for no reason and now, even when I'm scared, I know I have all these people around me who love me. Your people."
His lip was quirked up at one corner in that small half-smile that made him look so kind, but at the same time he was blushing. Just a little. I knew how it felt to be at the receiving end of a sudden compliment, but I didn't know how else to say it. I was grateful. More grateful than he could know. If Adrien had come for me when I'd first moved here, when I was alone, I don't think I would have had the energy to withstand him. It scared me to think of how easily I might have given up were it not for the bookstore, the book club, and most importantly, the bookseller.
"Sorry for being cheesy," I whispered, chuckling into my coffee mug.
"It's okay," he said just as quietly. It looked like he was trying to think of how to say something, so I waited. Across the shop, out the front window, it was starting to rain. I could smell it almost before I heard it, that damp leaves smell.
"The shop didn't used to be like this," Diedrich said finally. "It was a dead place. I had my regulars, of course, and we were friends in a way, but it was never a family before. I was thinking, it’s like you made a bridge between me and the other guys. And now Paula as well. It’s nice, all of us together.” Diedrich paused and we both listened to the rain splattering quietly against the windows.
"Everything will be okay,” he said. "You'll see. This man, he isn't as big as he seems. He's small and sad and clinging to whatever little power trips he can grasp at. You could go to sleep tonight and in the morning learn that he's been caught and he'll never be able to bother you again. It could be over. Just like that."
I wanted it to be true. I looked down at Athena and she looked up at me expectantly while I put my mug next to Diedrich's.
"I don't know. I feel like I'll never be the same."
"Not the same, no." He said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. "But no one is the same person they were ten years ago. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
I didn't know how it could be anything other than a bad thing, after everything that had happened to me. After the way Adrien had shattered my sense of safety even in my own home, even hundreds of miles away from him. How could that be anything but destructive?
“That morning,” I began “You said you were sorry for kissing me.”
Diedrich looked down and fidgeted with his fingers, picking at the cuticle of his left thumb.
“Do you not like me, like that? I just want to know for sure,” I asked.
I watched the muscles in his neck as he swallowed before answering. “I like you very much, Sparrow. So much that I’m terrified of doing the wrong thing. You know, someday all this mess with Adrien will be behind you, and I’d hate for you to look back and think that I wasn’t a good friend when you needed one, or that I behaved improperly.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I guess I want you to know that, even though you apologized, I’m not sorry. I’m glad you kissed me. And you can kiss me again any time.”
There was an unmistakable sound of someone knocking on glass and Diedrich and I both jumped.
"Who is that?"
He moaned, throwing his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. "It has to be Richard. He stops by on Sundays sometimes."
He knocked again.
Diedrich laughed, suddenly looking rather more boyish than he had a moment ago.
"Coming!" Diedrich shouted, hurrying to the front of the store to let him in. I lingered behind, feeling all too conspicuous, swiping at the tear streaks on my cheeks.
"Is sparrow here?" I heard Richard ask just as I came into view. "Oh."
"What's wrong?" I asked. He looked nervous, his large eyes round.
"Scared the shit out of me. I just drove by your place, there's a bunch of cops outside."
Chapter Thirteen
"Cops?" I repeated dumbly, immediately searching out Diedrich's gaze as the ground beneath my feet seemed to give way. Automatically, he reached out for me, wrapping his arm around my back as if to support me physically.
"What's going on?" Richard asked.
"I'll call Officer Laura," Diedrich said.
"What's happening? Do you know?" Richard asked me earnestly.
"Yeah. I do.”
"Are you in trouble?" he asked
"No. I mean I am. I mean I'm not a criminal or anything. They aren't at my house for me. There's this guy."
"Oh," he said, his demeanor softening slightly. "I see."
"Yeah."
“Goddamnit, Sparrow. I’m sorry. I’m sorry men are such fuckheads.”
I almost laughed, feeling a bit unhinged and hysterical.
"Officer Laura isn't answering," Diedrich announced from behind the counter. "She must be busy at the house."
"Should we go there?" I asked, vibrating internally. He had to be there. Right now. I could run to the house right there in that moment and come face to face with him. I imagined a standout with guns drawn. I imagined him standing, barricaded, in my kitchen amongst my mother's hand-me-down plates and knives.
"No," both of the men said.
Diedrich came back to my side, taking both my hands in his. "We will wait here. She knows you're here, she’ll find us here and tell us what happened when it's over."
"I can't just stand here waiting," I said, my voice high and thin.
"I know," Diedrich said. "I know, but you have to. I won’t take you there. It's not safe."
The emotional whiplash between my quiet moment with Diedrich to this, seemed to hit me all at once and I swayed on my feet. Diedrich gripped me tighter and even Richard stepped forwards, his hands out as if I was going to swoon like a Victorian lady.
"I'm fine," I said flatly.
Diedrich almost smiled. "Alright. Let’s sit down though."
"I don't know if I can."
"Let's try," Richard said, and the two men herded me back to the rear of the shop. I thought they would lead me to the couch and I didn't know if I could sit in that same spot again in such a different context as moments ago. Instead, they directed me to the table.
As I sat down, my head was filled with a simple prayer, over and over, repeated with every breath.
Let it be over. Let it be over. Let it be over.
"How long has this been an issue?" Richard asked. "I wish you'd have told me sooner. I could have helped, maybe."
"Perhaps now isn't the time to be telling her what she should have done," Diedr
ich warned gently.
"It's okay. I know. I moved here to get away from all of it so I didn't want to tell anyone. But when he showed up here it just got big really quickly again. I meant to tell you." I said.
The minutes ticked by slowly. The rain outside became a storm, the wind battering the sides of the old building and whistling under the door. The men, my men, tried a couple of times to talk, to distract from the thick tension in the room, but every time their words would trail off into silence and we waited, listening to the rain.
When half an hour had passed and no one had tried to reach me to tell me what was happening, I stood up hastily. I'd finished my cup of coffee, and now the anxiety was bubbling up inside of me like a boiling pot of water.
"I'm going to vibrate right off this seat if I don't get up and do something," I said to the men who looked up at me with worried expressions. "Diedrich, give me something to do."
"Um. Okay." He stood up too, scratching his scalp and making his hair stand up on edge. One day I would notice how cute he was when he did that when he was nervous.
"I'm serious. Anything. I'll alphabetize. In fact that sounds perfect. What section needs it most?"
"Probably...religion and philosophy," he said, hesitantly still as if he didn't believe me that I actually wanted to do menial labor.
I buried myself in bibles. Diedrich was right, this section did need work, badly. The only way to make any sense of it all was to rip everything off the shelves and begin to make piles on the floor.
Once I was thoroughly encased within a chaotic wall of stacks of books, Diedrich found me and, carefully, asked "Are you alright in there?"
"Fine.”
Finally, after an eon had passed, there came an authoritative knock to the front door. I jumped to my feet, eyes searching for Diedrich. He looked at me and smiled nervously before heading to the door to let in Officer laura.
"Sparrow is here, I presume?" Laura said without preamble.
"I'm here," I said. Diedrich and Richard came to stand on either side of me.
"Are you aware of--"
"Yes, I know. Did you get him?" I cut her off rudely, but I had no time for politeness.
Laura pressed her lips together and looked away from me momentarily. "Unfortunately, no."
My shoulders slumped and the air whooshed out of my chest. I hadn't even been aware of how hopeful I had been until the hope was gone.
"Then what..?"
"Well, this morning we got a call from a commuter upset about some graffiti that had been done on your garage door."
"My garage door?"
"We knew that you were staying with your friend here so we assumed that he may be staking out your house, trying to provoke you to come home. I drove down myself just to check things out and there were lights on inside and it looked like the front door lock had been smashed. Not knowing if he was inside, I called for backup. But when we went in, it was empty, though it was clear that he'd been there."
"Clear how? Why didn't anyone tell me sooner what was happening? Richard saw the police cars and came and told me way before I heard from any of you." I said, gripping onto the slivers of anger cutting through the bitter disappointment.
"Due to the nature of the scene we needed to secure a perimeter in order to fully document the damage."
"What damage?" Diedrich spoke for me, his hand coming to rest heavy on my shoulder.
She hesitated for just a moment. "The interior of the house sustained significant damage. Mostly paint. Uh, books were torn. It looks like a significant amount of journals were destroyed, I'm afraid to say. Other than the garage door and the front lock, nothing more was done to the outside of the house."
The journals hurt. I hadn't written in one for a long time, but I had notebooks going back to middle school, where I'd written down everything that had been going on in my life. I documented everything all the way through my move to Washington. He probably read quite a few things about himself in those pages. Perhaps that was what triggered the destruction.
Frantically, I tried to remember if I had written anything about Diedrich. But no, I didn't think so. My last journal was from the move, and the last thing I remembered writing about was trying to find different places to walk Athena. If I mentioned Diedrich or the bookstore, it would have only been in passing at that point. Nothing that I could remember that would bring him here looking for me. The journal Diedrich had given me for my birthday was still empty, despite my intentions of writing in it.
"Can I go and see?" I asked.
Laura nodded. "Yes, of course you can. He isn't there now so I would say that it's safe to go with your friends, not alone, but if you like I can take you there myself.”
"You don't need to do that," I said.
“We’ve got officers making regular rounds on that street today so you’ll be seeing us." Laura gave me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry we didn't get him this time." She patted me on the shoulder before she left, a sturdy one-two pat that was more businesslike than friendly.
"Did you see what he did to the garage door?" I asked Richard.
He sucked on his teeth and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I did, but I'd rather not describe it."
"I'd like to salvage what I can of my journals."
"We'll all go together." Diedrich said quickly, he seemed eager to get out of the bookstore.
We piled into Diedrich's car. Richard would have given me the front seat, but he could hardly fit in the back. So I sat in the middle of the back seat, leaning forward between Diedrich and Richard, already red in the face with embarrassment at what I was sure Adrien had done with the paint. The tone of his "gifts" were overtly sexual, and I doubted if his messages wouldn’t be too..
When we crested the hill at the end of the street, the house came into view. Immediately, the word "WHORE" in giant, capital letters was visible, emblazoned across the width of the garage door. The red paint dripped down in places from the bottom of the letters. You could see it from a mile away. I tried not to think about how many people had already driven by, how many of them were my friends or just people who knew me. I didn't have a wide social circle, but it was a small town.
"This is my grandma's house," was all I could say.
"I'll wash the door." Richard said. "You two go in and see what can be salvaged."
As we walked to the front door, which now had only the lock on the handle functioning with a hole where the deadbolt should have been, a police car drove slowly by. I made eye contact with the man behind the wheel, an officer I knew by face but not by name, and returned his silent nod before going in.
The same red paint was splashed against the walls of the living room and the kitchen. Here and there, more slurs were scrawled on the walls but mostly is was just great big splashes as if he'd simply been throwing paint cans at the walls.
"He's so angry," I whispered. Richard had disappeared into the kitchen and was filling a large mixing bowl with hot soapy water, but Diedrich just stood next to me, looking as shocked as I felt. Athena paced agitatedly from room to room.
In my bedroom, my clothes had been strewn around chaotically and, in the middle of the floor, was a large pile of ripped papers and torn notebook covers. I felt nothing as I sat down and started to sort them. Diedrich, apparently deciding that tidying away my jeans and underwear was less private than helping me rifle though my journals, sorted out the rest of the room as well as he could.
I could have thought about there being some kind of poetic irony about him destroying my childhood and adolescent journals, if I had been less numbed. I came across loose pages where I had been writing, in glittery gel pen, about my first kiss. I wrote in black pen about losing my virginity to a boy on the swim team named Sean. The pages of me scrawling out my sexual frustrations and romantic fantasies of when I was in my twenties were the most mangled.
"There's whole books missing," I said "The ones from when we worked together. Where I wrote about him."
Diedrich
didn't say anything but he stopped hanging up t-shirts and came to sit next to me.
"I had no idea you wrote so much."
A Short Walk to the Bookshop Page 15
