A Pocketful of Stardust

by J P Barnaby

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “I imagine you have. Finest kind. My maman was like that, and my Renee, and my Berenice after her.”

  “And your Persephone.”

  Henry grinned. “And my Persephone. I’m glad I found her—she’ll be company when you go home at night. Can’t sleep the way I used to, and the night gets long. Although now that I know everything’s still up there, I can go through it and find the more valuable stuff—that should help. And I have lots of LPs too, even some old 78s. Do people still use hi-fis?”

  “Hi-fis?”

  “Record players.”

  “Oh. Yeah, some do. Collectors mostly. If they’re in good shape.”

  “Should be, if they didn’t get warped from the heat. I’ll see if I can check that too. Don’t know if I can move anything that heavy.”

  “We can check them together.”

  Henry nodded. “But for now, you should go home and get some rest. You worked yourself hard today.”

  “I did. We made almost two thousand dollars, and another three with the rare books we sold on the internet.”

  “You’re getting there.”

  “Not fast enough. And look, I know you’re not crazy about Kyle….”

  “The boy said I was evil!”

  “He didn’t know that you weren’t. I don’t know where he came from, but it must have been the back of beyond. And he didn’t get much of an education, so I think he’s from one of those really conservative religions. He’s a good guy, Henry. And he works hard. I wish I could afford to pay him.”

  Henry humphed but said nothing.

  “I’m just saying, cut him some slack, okay? He’s good people. And you’re good people.”

  “Okay, but the minute he comes around with a sage pot like your crazy hippie woman, I’m done.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I KNOW, I’m sorry.” Noah sat at the counter with his head in one hand and his phone in the other. “I don’t know what else to do right now except move back here. I can’t look for another job in New York if I’m not in New York.”

  “It’s Manhattan, honey. I’ll have another roommate by the end of the week. I hate that I won’t be able to see you every day. And it just sucks that you got fired for staying to clear things up after your dad died. It’s the twenty-first century, for goodness’ sake, they should have worked with you.”

  “I already paid for November. I know it’s only the third, but are you sure you’re going to be okay? Let me know if you don’t find someone right away and I’ll find some way to pay for December too.”

  “It’ll be fine, Noah. What do you want me to do with your stuff?”

  That was the harder question. He could see Yeira in his mind’s eye, looking around the apartment at the bits of his life he’d collected over the past three years since moving out of the dorms at NYU.

  “Sell the furniture if you can. If not, give it to someone who needs it. Dump the blankets and stuff. If you could, box up my clothes and pictures and stuff. Ship it here?”

  “Thank you for being a minimalist. It should be fine. We did a piece on the shelter down the street. I know they’ll take anything I can’t sell. Desperation is funny like that.”

  “Thank you, Yeira, and I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t ask for any of this to happen, Noah. It is what it is. Text me the address, and take care of yourself, okay?”

  “That’s getting harder and harder lately.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Noah hit the button to disconnect the call. He dropped the cell phone on the counter next to a pile of unpaid bills and sighed. A meow caught his attention, and he looked up to see Henry and Kyle watching him. He hadn’t even known they were there.

  Noah sighed. “If there is no struggle, there is no progress.”

  “Frederick Douglass,” Henry mused, surprised. “I’m impressed. So it looks like the decision has been made?”

  “I didn’t appreciate it being made for me, but yes. I’m all in.”

  “I’m glad you’re staying, Noah,” Kyle said, his voice quiet, almost reverent.

  “Thanks. I’m going to head over to the diner and pick up some pastries for breakfast. Could you get this stuff unstacked and open the boxes? We have that counter over there where we can set it, and they can pay up here at the register. Or maybe we can set up a till.”

  “I think that sounds like a grand plan,” Henry agreed. “Well, except for breakfast. I’d kill for a few beignets.”

  “I don’t think ghosts can kill for donuts.” Noah rolled his eyes.

  “But you don’t know it, do you?” Henry countered.

  “I’m going now,” Noah said, heading for the door as he heard Kyle’s laugh behind him. He waved at Ananda as he passed the crystal shop, and she waved a hand back. Yes, there were definitely worse places he could have ended up unemployed.

  The door opened with a whoosh, and he stepped into the diner. The place hadn’t changed since Noah lived here. He wasn’t sure the place had changed since it opened. The owner, Miz Parker, had taken over the business when Noah was a boy, back when his own father used to talk about him taking over the bookstore. Most businesses in Aster were family owned and run; it was life in small-town America.

  Miz Parker wasn’t behind the counter, but her daughter Jessie was taking Cooper’s order as he half stood and half sat on one of the stools. She’d been a few years older than him in school, and all the boys crushed on her.

  “Hey, if it isn’t little Noah Hitchens,” Jessie called, pushing a lock of tight black curls off her pretty face. Noah sat at the counter and smiled.

  “Hi, Miss Jessie, how are you?”

  “I’m doin’ just fine. I was sorry to hear about your daddy. He was a good man,” she said quietly, patting his arm.

  “Thank you.”

  Country gossip flowed like water in small towns, so she might have been expecting some news from his life, but he didn’t really have any. In the awkwardness, he ordered a half dozen pastries, her choice.

  “Take care of that little errand you had to do?” Cooper asked him, sidling up as he waited for his own breakfast.

  “Yeah. Not a happy task, but I found out what I needed to know.”

  “Know what you’re going to do yet?”

  “I’m staying.”

  “That’s a good kid. Your dad would have been happy to see you take over.”

  “You say you’re taking over at the bookstore?” Jessie asked.

  “Yeah. We’ve already started reopening.”

  “I’ll let people know to come over and see you.”

  “And I’ll tell them to stop by here for lunch after,” Noah said back.

  “That’s a deal.”

  He came back to the store with half a dozen filled croissants and danishes in a large paper bag. Henry huffed and floated off in search of Persephone, but Kyle dug right in with a ham and cheese croissant in one hand and an apple danish in the other.

  “What?” he asked when Noah just looked at him.

  “You must be hungry.”

  “Yeah, it takes a lot of energy to get this stuff set up.” He waved toward the coffee room, and Noah’s gaze followed. On the counter were two large coffee machines, large and shiny and intimidating.

  “If you plan to keep it there, you’re going to need a small fridge to keep milk and whipped cream,” Kyle observed and Noah wondered if he’d gotten himself into more than he could handle—both with the coffee and the store in general.

  “So what’s back here?” Noah grabbed a danish and led the way into the room, stepping carefully around the shrapnel of packing materials on the floor.

  “Well, you have a drip machine for regular coffee, an espresso machine, an industrial grinder, and six flavor bottles with pumps. Your dad had already run a water line in here.” He indicated the line going into the espresso machine.

  “That accounts for more of the money he borrowed,” Noah observed.

  “It looks like the ele
ctric has also been rewired to accommodate the machines,” Henry said from behind them, sending Noah lurching sideways toward the counter.

  “What about supplies?” he asked and glowered at Henry.

  “You have coffee here, about a dozen different kinds of teas, cups, lids, stirrers, napkins—pretty much everything you need to get started.” Kyle pulled box after box out of the larger shipping crate.

  “Let’s get to work,” Noah said, mesmerized by all of the boxes.

  It took them the better part of the day to get everything unpacked, organized, and set in a way that everything would be easily accessible near the counter. Noah took the last of his father’s life insurance money and picked up a large dorm fridge for them to store the cold stuff; then he stopped by Publix and grabbed a couple gallons of milk.

  “Think we should have hot chocolate?” he asked Kyle after they’d carried in his haul.

  “Well, it was popular in Chicago, but it’s freezing there. So I’m not sure how well it would do in Georgia. Maybe as a seasonal thing.”

  “Thank you so much for helping me set all this stuff up. I feel better about staying and putting a real effort into the store now that I know we’re going to have this revenue stream.”

  “Yeah, because it’s Saturday and you haven’t had very many customers,” Kyle observed.

  “I noticed that too. We need a sign that lets people know we have this coffee bar. We should also move a couple of the low tables and chairs into this room so people can sit and drink.”

  “Maybe put out a newspaper or two,” Henry offered.

  “I don’t know that people really read newspapers anymore. We get most of our news online.”

  “Is everybody online?”

  “No, I guess not. Especially older folks who have the time to hang out in coffee bars,” Noah noted.

  “Okay, I’ll get to work on the sign.”

  Noah grabbed his laptop and pulled up Publisher to see if the internet had any coffee-appropriate templates while Kyle fired up the machines for the first time. They were loud in the small space, but in the main part of the bookstore, the noise was tolerable. Maybe he’d get a small sound system and play soundtracks or classical music. The future seemed like a string of endless possibilities now, both good and bad.

  He printed a few signs on his dad’s old inkjet printer and put them into wooden frames they’d found in the basement. Noah grinned to himself as he thought about the kiss. He wanted to take Kyle out, do something nice to say thank you for setting up the coffee bar, and really for just being supportive. He didn’t have any friends here; all of his childhood friends had moved away. Kyle made it less lonely.

  The signs fit in random places throughout the store and in the front window. He liked the way they seemed to belong there with the frames. Lots of stores simply taped printed signs to the window or wall, and it looked tacky.

  “Hey, do you have plans tonight?” Noah asked, and Kyle looked up from his counter.

  “No. I never have plans,” he said with a smile.

  “Let’s go get some food after the store closes.” Noah fiddled with the stack of cups on Kyle’s counter, straightening them equidistant from the lids and napkins.

  “You mean like a date?”

  “Would that be okay if it were?” Noah’s heart hammered. He didn’t know when it had become so important to hear Kyle say yes.

  “I’ve never been on a date before.”

  Noah looked at him, stunned.

  “What? I didn’t get out much,” Kyle murmured. “Plus, I couldn’t let people know I was… gay. My family doesn’t approve of homosexuality. They say it’s a sin.”

  “What do you say?”

  “I say I don’t know and that they don’t either. If God doesn’t like gay people, why would he make us this way? If he does, then my family is wrong.”

  “I don’t disagree with any of that. So, a date, then?”

  “A date,” Kyle agreed.

  THEY DIDN’T sell a single cup of coffee, but they drank more than a few while they tried different flavor combinations and played with different configurations on the machines. By the time the store closed, they were both wired, and Henry threw them out of the store, calling them unruly and recalcitrant. Kyle asked Noah what recalcitrant meant, though he admitted he figured it was an insult.

  “There are some chain restaurants over by the highway,” Noah suggested as he hit the alarm and then locked the door.

  “I’ll eat just about anything, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “You’re a pretty easygoing guy.”

  “I was raised pretty much to take life as it comes,” Kyle said and climbed into the passenger side of the truck.

  “Where did you grow up?” Noah slid in behind the wheel and fired up the engine.

  Kyle hesitated for a long moment and then said, simply, “Montana.”

  “Wow, I bet that’s different from here. All the wide-open spaces. Horses. Lots of green?” Noah pulled out of the lot and onto the main stretch of road in Aster.

  “It was different,” Kyle admitted.

  “I’ll admit, I’m only guessing. I’ve never been to Montana, but it sounds open and green.”

  “It is. When we were younger, my sister, Hope, and me, we used to climb to the top of this hill after all the chores were done. It felt like you could see forever.”

  “You have a sister? Any other siblings?”

  “No, just a sister.”

  “I don’t have any brothers or sisters. Made growing up a little lonely.”

  “We never got lonely. There was always someone around, and they brought their kids. I don’t think my parents knew anyone who didn’t have kids.”

  “Small communities tend to produce lots of kids—there’s not much else to do besides procreate,” Noah laughed.

  “And color,” Kyle added.

  “And color. There isn’t much more to do here. You can go out to eat, bowl, or drive over to the mall and see a movie.” Noah turned on the next street, headed toward the highway.

  “What did you like to do as a kid?”

  “Me? I don’t know, the normal stuff. We played baseball a lot. It was the only sport I didn’t suck at. I loved to read. More often than not you’d find me hanging out under a tree somewhere, reading a paperback I’d read a hundred times before,” Noah reminisced.

  “Your dad owned a bookstore. You didn’t get new books?”

  “Yeah, I could have any book I wanted. Well, I had to ask Dad to make sure it was okay—like age-appropriate. But there were some books I loved, like Harry Potter or the Terry Pratchett books. I could read them over and over.”

  “We didn’t read growing up except when we did school.” Kyle sat up higher as they pulled into the parking lot of an Olive Garden.

  “Did school?” Noah slid into a space near the end of the row.

  “Yeah, we all sat down for lessons.”

  “You and your sister?”

  “I guess.” Kyle shrugged.

  They walked up to the restaurant in silence and were immediately seated. For that, Noah was thankful. He hated milling around in the front like bugs on a burger, waiting for the coaster to buzz and tell him their table was ready.

  Kyle studied the menu.

  They didn’t go to Olive Garden much in Manhattan, with the millions of other restaurant choices, but growing up, this had been one of his favorites. It was the special-occasion place where he and Dad would go for birthdays and such. He hadn’t even thought about it that way as he’d driven there. Kyle had agreed to a date—maybe this was something special to celebrate.

  Their server, a petite brunette with an impeccable updo, came by with a bottle of white and asked if they’d like to sample.

  “I don’t drink alcohol,” Kyle said.

  “No, thank you,” Noah said and waved her off.

  “Never?” he asked after she’d gone.

  Kyle had gone back to looking at the menu. “It’s a sin,” he said simply
.

  Noah didn’t respond. He’d decided on the build-your-own pasta with cavatappi, his favorite. Maybe they could share a piece of cake after.

  “Do you know what this means?” Kyle asked suddenly, turning the menu around. He pointed to an item, and Noah looked down at it.

  “Manicotti? Sure, it’s a tube of pasta with cheese in the middle.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not sure what to get?” Noah nudged.

  “I…. My family didn’t go out to eat, and in Chicago, we didn’t go out often. Some of this stuff. I just… I don’t know.” Kyle started to get frustrated—Noah could see it in the stiffness of his body, the embarrassment in his expression.

  “It’s okay. Do you like pasta?”

  “Like spaghetti, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.” Kyle nodded as he said it.

  “Do you like red sauce?”

  “Isn’t it all red?” Kyle cocked his head.

  “No, some of them have white sauces,” Noah explained quietly.

  “Yes, I like red sauce.”

  “Do you like cheese?”

  “Sure.” Kyle sat back in his chair like the questions were too much for him.

  “Then why don’t you try the manicotti or maybe a ravioli, which is like that but in pieces?” Noah suggested.

  When their server returned, they ordered sodas and then cavatappi for Noah and ravioli for Kyle. She smiled at them benignly and went off to find them salad and breadsticks.

  “Next time we’ll try a Mexican place. In New York you could find any style food you wanted right around the corner—Indian, Thai, Cuban, whatever.” Noah unfolded the napkin and dropped it in his lap.

  “That seems like a lot of choices I wouldn’t want to deal with,” Kyle admitted. He mimicked Noah and put his own napkin on his leg.

  “Then it’s good you live here—you have limited options.” Noah smiled and Kyle smiled back, seeming to relax.

  It didn’t take long for the food to arrive. The entrees appeared almost simultaneously with the breadsticks and salad, so they had a table full of food in front of them when Matt Handley passed. He stopped and looked back, overbalancing, but caught himself. Apparently the wine had already been flowing at his table.