Unlikely Friends

by Sahar Abdulaziz

  By the time Irwin arrived at the cemetery, he was a good forty-five minutes later than usual, but the sun was shining, the winds of the past week had calmed down, and the warm air felt great against his face. Leaves of every hue sprinkled down from the sky like raindrops.

  Instead of his customary march, Irwin took his time walking the cement path toward Gilly. It wasn’t until he saw the same young man from the last time, solemnly standing by his lost one’s grave, did Irwin pick up the pace. He was excited to fill Gilly, and now Dakota, in on all the latest happenings, especially the long-awaited news he’d received from the lawyer about—

  Irwin stopped dead in his tracks. Then, without much thought, he just as quickly skirted off to the side to hide behind a terribly thin tree trunk. He looked rather comical poking his head out just enough to get a better look while trying not to be detected. Too late. The young man saw Irwin. He was about to say something when Irwin lifted his finger to his lips pleading for him to shush. The young man shrugged but complied.

  Irwin went back to spying, but it didn’t take x-ray vision to realize that it was Harper standing by Gilly’s headstone, and from the looks of it, she was having a full-blown conversation. Irwin wasn’t sure if he was shocked, angry, or just plain jealous. Irwin tiptoed closer and crouched behind a large headstone, close enough to eavesdrop.

  “Everyone who knew you and Dakota keep telling me how close you two were,” said Harper, her backpack hiked on her shoulder, a small collection of wildflowers in her hand. “My mom and I used to be close like that too, but recently, things aren’t so good between us. We argue all the time about anything. It’s almost as if she doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the entire truth…just pieces, until it blows up in her face. Then she freaks out, loses her shit, and dumps it all on me. Somehow, I’m expected to listen without having any say. I mean, is that even fair?” Harper bent over and leaned the bouquet carefully against the stone. “These aren’t as fancy as Irwin’s, but I thought they were pretty. They grow wild by the side of the highway.”

  Irwin cringed at the thought of Harper walking on the side of a busy highway while cars sped past.

  She could have gotten herself killed. I have a good mind to—

  “Lately, I’ve mostly been talking to Cornelia and Irwin about my problems, but I feel like a burden on them. It’s like every time I talk to them, there’s some new major crisis I need help with.” She wiped a lone tear from her cheek. “They must hate me.”

  Far from it.

  Irwin stretched his neck so as not to miss a single word.

  “The thing is I need advice, and I know how much Irwin trusted…trusts you. I hope it’s okay that I came.” Harper hugged herself. “So, I guess I better start, right?” She dug her hands into her pocket and swayed. “I found out this morning that we’re getting evicted.”

  Irwin gasped and almost gave himself away. Evicted?

  “My mom’s been having a hard time making ends meet. She has problems with her feet and had to take a few days off, and I guess we kind of got behind on the rent. Of course, she never said anything. Always plays like everything’s all right, so like usual, I had to find out on my own.” Harper dug her boot heel into the soft earth and wiped her eyes. Her voice cracked slightly when she began to speak again. “I—I don’t know what do? Is it so bad to want a normal life like other kids? Go to school, graduate, go to college—if I can get in—graduate, and get a job. Then I’ll be able to take care of my mom,” she mumbled. “But nothing can ever go smoothly for us, I swear. As soon as one problem gets solved, another one shows up, and I’m sick of it. Ju-just sick of it,” she whimpered in a ragged, breathless sob.

  Irwin leaned forward and mistakenly stepped on a pile of dry leaves. He froze, teeth gritted, and half expecting Harper to turn around any second. Thankfully, she was too preoccupied to notice. Irwin blew out a silent, grateful breath.

  “And now I probably won’t even be able to graduate from the same high school—unless my mother can find a place in the area, but who knows if that’ll happen?” Harper subconsciously brushed the top of Gilly’s headstone. “You know, Irwin really misses you still, but I guess you know that already with him coming to talk to you all the time.” Harper suddenly jolted. “Oh shit, Irwin!” Her head spun all around as if caught shoplifting. “Today’s Friday.”

  Irwin pressed his body as hard as he could against the tree trunk, attempting to make himself invisible, but as he did, he caught the young guy nearby grinning, obviously finding Irwin’s plight entertaining. Irwin shot him the look, the one he saved for all unruly or intractable humans.

  Unfettered by Irwin’s annoyance, the young man merely shrugged, a slight smirk never leaving his lips.

  “I better get going. Irwin should be rolling up here any minute, and I don’t want him to know we chatted.” Harper hiked her backpack over her shoulder and placed a small flower on the edge of Gilly’s headstone. “Thanks for listening, Gilly. I wish I could have met you in person,” she said before taking her leave.

  Irwin, doing his best impersonation of a fledging ghost, lurked around the trunk a little at a time as Harper walked past, but he needn’t have worried. She was too upset to look up, and she strode straight past him, none the wiser.

  As soon as the coast was clear, Irwin straightened himself out, fixed his coat, and adjusted his hat. Anything to salvage what dwindling dignity he had left. Irwin headed over to Gilly, ignoring the chuckle coming from behind him.

  “Slick moves, old man,” said the young man, standing with his arms crossed playfully over his chest. “I thought for a minute you were toast.”

  Irwin muttered something unrepeatable under his breath.

  “Is she your daughter?”

  Irwin halted and stared at the handsome young man with squinted, beady eyes. “Yes. My wife and I couldn’t decide what to call her, so we named her Jailbait.”

  “Whoa,” said the young man, almost stumbling backward, his hands held high in the air in mock surrender. “I’m not on it like that. I was only asking because she left something over there,” he said, pointing.

  Irwin looked. The young man was right. There, crumpled in a small bundle, was one of Harper’s scarves.

  “Oh. Right.” Irwin walked over and picked it up. He shook it out and reluctantly stuffed it in his pocket. “Thank you,” he muttered.

  “No problem.”

  Finally alone, Irwin faced Gilly’s headstone, unable to speak, uncertain about where to start. After what he just overheard Harper saying, his news, by comparison, seemed anticlimactic.

  “Well, I see you and Harper have met.” Irwin bent over on one knee and laid his flowers in their customary spot and removed the older ones, careful not to disturb the wildflowers brought by Harper. “I never knew you two were conversing,” he said, slightly tilting his head. “But at least now you have a face and voice to go with the stories I’ve been telling you.” Irwin tugged his coat sleeve, more out of habit. “She’s a good kid, Gilly. Just over stressed with adult problems. But clearly, you already know that.” Irwin brushed off his one knee and stood. “Listen, hon, I came to tell you that I got approved for the building.” Irwin took a deep breath and exhaled, on the one hand glad to start the long-awaited process, but on the other torn that Gilly wouldn’t be there to see it through. It had been more their dream than just his. “I should be signing the final paperwork sometime tomorrow.” Irwin shrugged and shifted his weight to his other leg. “The lawyer finagled me a good price on the building. Not the one we first looked at that had the steep steps in the back, but the one around the corner with the good parking in the back. You know the building I’m talking about, near the donut shop, walking distance from the house.”

  Irwin had the strangest sensation of being watched. He peeked over his shoulder and saw the young man staring in his direction.

  Irwin grumbled at the intrusion, but more out of embarrassment. His last surly comment had left him feeling oddly horrible, a sensation he
was not accustomed to. “Who do you come to visit?” Irwin called out, feigning interest.

  The young man rubbed the headstone. “My mother. You?”

  Irwin never referred to Gilly as his fiancé when speaking to strangers. The label fell flat on his ears, especially because she’d been so much more than that. “My heart,” he answered uncharacteristically.

  The young man nodded. “I hear you, man,” he commiserated and began walking in Irwin’s direction.

  No. Stop walking.

  Irwin squeezed his fists tightly.

  What is he doing?

  He dreaded further discourse.

  “I’m Christopher.” The young man reached out to shake Irwin’s hand.

  Irwin reluctantly reciprocated. “Irwin.”

  “Nice meeting you, Irwin. I mean, despite our…” Christopher tilted his chin towards the graves. “You know what I mean.”

  Irwin fought down the sharp quip burning at the back of his throat. “Indubitably,” he mumbled instead. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder until Christopher spoke again.

  “It’s none of my business, but your daughter seemed pretty upset.”

  Irwin stared straight ahead.

  “Yeah. I saw her crying pretty hard before you showed up.”

  Irwin turned his head to stare. “Was she?”

  “Hell yeah. But I can’t blame her, though. I mean, I still can’t believe my mother’s gone.”

  Irwin cleared his throat. “‘For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one,’” he recited.

  “Ah, Khalil Gibran,” said Christopher.

  “You’re a reader,” said Irwin, pleasantly surprised.

  “Fourth-year, Pre-law, eventually law school. At the local college, or at least I did. Tuition’s pretty high, but it’s the room and board that’s killing me. Unless I can find a job that works around my weird schedule, I’ll have to put this last semester off.” Christopher stuck his hands in his pockets. “Want to know something kind of weird?”

  “Not really.”

  “The first time I came here alone, the words of Norman Cousins sprang to mind,” said Christopher.

  Irwin stretched his neck to the sky. “And what, pray tell, were those oracular words?”

  Christopher lifted his eyes to meet Irwin’s. “‘Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside of us while we live.’”

  Irwin lowered his head as if in prayer. “This is true.”

  “Indubitably,” muttered Christopher, staring off into space.

  Irwin grinned.

  This kid’s all right.

  ***

  Cornelia

  Cornelia struggled to balance a massive tray of baked ziti on her knee while using her chin to clamp hold of a loaf of Italian bread. With the heel of her shoe, she hit the side of Irwin’s door.

  “I could use a hand out here,” she hollered, annoyed with Bones, who thought now was an appropriate time to thread his furry body between Cornelia’s legs. “Like today, Irwin.”

  Irwin opened the door. “What’s all this?”

  “The makings of an android,” snipped Cornelia, shoving her way forward and trying not to trip. “It’s dinner, ya big buffoon. Now grab this already. It’s heavy,” she said, shoving it into Irwin’s chest. “Bones!” she hollered at the cat wafting back and forth. “I swear this dastardly feline is determined to make me fall on my ass.”

  Irwin rescued the tray from Cornelia’s death grip while Bones, tail curled in the shape of a question mark, trotted straight past him to his water dish.

  “That cat will be the death of me one of these days.” Cornelia grabbed the loaf of bread and swung it in the air like a scepter. “Throw the tray in the oven to stay warm while I slice this bread.”

  Irwin set the heat and timer on the stove. “I have salad. It’s in the salad drawer.”

  “Not one of those pre-made things, I hope.”

  Irwin opened the fridge, raised the small bag in the air, and shook.

  Cornelia rolled her eyes. “I guess it’ll have to do. Grab a bowl and dump it in,” she grumbled. “You have anything to drink that’s not past its expiration date? I’m parched.” Not bothering to wait on Irwin’s reply, Cornelia yanked the refrigerator door open. “Ah, geez, Irwin,” she grumbled. “Do you not believe in food shopping or what?”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “Didn’t have time? Oh please.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “What utter nonsense. You act like you’re some big-wig executive.” She shook her head, mumbling. “You don’t have time. Give me a break already.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Oh, stop it.” Cornelia reached in the drawer and grabbed a bread knife. She stood motionless for a moment, trying to remember why.

  Irwin handed the folder from the attorney to Cornelia. “I need you to read this.”

  “Huh? Oh, yes. After I’m done.”

  “I need you to read this now.”

  Cornelia stomped her foot. “I said after I’m done,” she snapped and immediately regretted it. She’d been losing her temper more and more recently. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” Cornelia gripped the counter top to steady herself. She wiped her hands on a towel. “Hand it to me.” Irwin obliged. “That looks awfully official. Another letter from your attorney?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please tell me you’re not in trouble.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Irwin bristled. “Why do you always think the worst of me?”

  Cornelia’s brows arched. “Let’s leave that one alone for now.” She snatched the envelope from Irwin and peeked inside. Realizing Irwin was looming over her, Cornelia tentatively slid the packet of papers out. “Pretty thick stack you got going on over here.”

  “It’s a contract.”

  “A contract. For what?”

  “Read it, and then I’ll answer all your questions.” Irwin stepped back to give her some room. He leaned back on the kitchen counter, head bowed and fidgeting with his fingers.

  Cornelia read the first three sentences and peered up at Irwin. “You can’t be serious right now?”

  “I am.”

  “This is—” Cornelia’s eyes widened. “Well, it’s life changing, Irwin.”

  “It could be, or it could be an absolutely unmitigated disaster.”

  “No, don’t say that. I mean, sure, this is one hell of a big step, but not in a bad way. It’s just, well, I guess I just assumed you weren’t still contemplating doing this since Gilly passed.”

  Cornelia’s mind raced past thoughts of her earlier conversation with Harper. She needed to speak to Irwin tonight about so many things, but now with this news, she wasn’t sure it was the right time. Still, Harper’s situation was urgent. Cornelia continued to read.

  “Is this the two-story building on Gold Street? The one near the donut shop?” she asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Uh-huh. And will you have use of the entire building?”

  “The whole kit and caboodle.”

  Cornelia nodded, her eyes affixed to the page, skimming the fine print. “You wouldn’t happen to have any plans for the downstairs?”

  “I’m still planning on opening a bookstore.”

  “Right. Of course. The bookstore.” Cornelia took a seat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t the building contain two or three floors?”

  “Two, with a working basement for storage.”

  Cornelia nodded again, taking the information in. “And upstairs? What are you doing with that space?”

  “The upstairs has apartments. Two, actually. One’s a nice-sized studio—single occupancy—and the other is a two bedroom. Both aren’t excessively large, but they’re in fairly good shape. Nothing a can of paint and a few updated fixtures can’t fix.”

  “I see.”

  “And depending on the closing costs, I might put in a few new appliances. At least a stove in the
bigger apartment. Maybe a microwave in the studio, but I’m not sure yet.”

  Cornelia clearly heard the excited lilt rise in Irwin’s voice. She tapped her nail on the table.

  Apartments…

  “Hmmm. And when exactly do you plan on making this official?”

  “Well, as far as I’m concerned,” said Irwin, grabbing a seat and joining her. “The sooner, the better. I sign the papers tomorrow. Then it’s up to me when I open.”

  “Really?” Cornelia read further along. Her thoughts raced with the possibilities.

  Irwin watched but remained quiet.

  Cornelia appreciated his patience. After a good ten minutes, she finally looked up and smiled.

  “Well?” he asked. “Tell me the truth. Am I insane for doing this? I can still back out. I have until tomorrow to decide.”

  “Insane?” Cornelia chuckled. “You passed that mood marker a long time ago, but this?” Cornelia laid the contract reverently down on the table. “This, my friend, is brilliant.”

  Irwin stared in relieved disbelief. “You think so? I mean, you don’t think I’m biting off more than I can chew?”

  Cornelia smiled. “Don’t be silly. Nobody loves or knows books better than you. What better way to spend your time? Besides, what do you have to lose?”

  “My savings.”

  “Yeah, okay, there’s that.”

  “There’s also my pride.”

  “Irwin…”

  “Not to mention my self-worth if this thing goes belly up.”

  “Enough. Nobody likes a Debbie-downer. This sleepy town desperately needs a nice bookshop, and I bet, with the right marketing and—” Cornelia froze. Her brows furrowed in consternation.

  “What is it?” Irwin leaned in, apparently alarmed. “Why’d you stop talking?”

  Cornelia pursed her lips. “Irwin,” she said softly. “You do understand that people come to bookstores?”

  “Yes, Cornelia. I realize that.”

  “Young people, old people, nice people, not-so-nice people…”