The Bookish Life of Nina Hill

by Abbi Waxman

  “Not really,” replied Nina. She reached the door and smile-frowned at Tom, wondering why he was there.

  Tom, who was wondering exactly the same thing, waited until the door was open and then held up the movie ticket. “This is yours. I was in the area, so I thought I’d bring it back.”

  “Uh,” said Nina, “we’re closed.” Yes, Nina, let’s open a conversation with a non sequitur. Stylish.

  Asha said, “Are you Nina’s boyfriend?” She was a tall, clear-eyed child who stuck to the point.

  Tom, who was a little confused by the six girls who were now all staring avidly at him, shook his head.

  “Are you a boy who is also a friend?” Ruby-Fern wasn’t going to let him slip by on a technicality.

  “Uh . . .” said Tom.

  “Maybe he wants to be her boyfriend,” suggested Logan. “And Nina doesn’t want him to be?”

  “Or maybe she wants him to be, but hasn’t told him yet.” All the little heads swiveled to look up at Nina, who was approximately the color of a strawberry.

  “Ladies,” she said in her firmest voice, “please return to the book club area and wait quietly. I won’t be a minute.”

  “No, it’s OK,” said Nora. “We’re fine here.”

  Nina looked at them with her best laser beam eyes, and they all backed away.

  Tom was starting to lose focus. “Anyway . . . I thought you might want to go see another movie sometime.” He held out the ticket, and Nina took it, trying to decide if he had asked her to “go see another movie sometime with me” or had simply been making an observation: “I saw you at the movie theater, alone, so here’s a ticket you can use in the future, on your own.”

  “Thanks. But this is really your friend’s ticket. She bought it.”

  He shook his head. “No, she gave it to you, so I turned it in for a rain check.” He smiled suddenly, and Nina felt her hands start to prickle with a combination of anxiety and attraction. He appealed to her so much. He was very tall and strong, all bones and mass; he made her feel like she wouldn’t be up to the task of even holding his hand, let alone anything else. And why was she thinking of anything else?

  He spoke again, slightly more hesitantly. “You left somewhat abruptly.”

  She blushed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I, uh . . . had to leave.”

  “Somewhat abruptly?”

  “Yeah.” There was no way she was going to explain any further; it was bad enough already. “Anyway . . . thanks.” She smiled back at him and went to close the door. “I have to get back to my book club.” Before I start hyperventilating and have to breathe into a bag.

  “Oh, they’re not all your children?” He tried a smile. He could smell her shampoo, honey and lemons. He was having trouble with this simple social transaction; her shiny hair, her tiny hands and feet, her very smallness made him feel clumsy and awkward, like he should be carrying a bale of hay with a straw between his teeth and saying things like “Shucks, ma’am, I have to move the she-cow back to pasture.” She was smiling at him. Keep your head in the game, Tom.

  “I’d have to work pretty hard to have six kids the same age.” Her eyes were hazel, he saw; a warm brown with a darker ring around her iris. Distracting.

  He said, “Modern science?” Really, Tom, you’re talking about fertility treatment? What’s next, asking her what brand of tampon she prefers?

  “Well, sure.” They stood there smiling at each other, both frantically trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make them look as stupid and confused as they felt.

  “See?” said Asha, from behind the bookcase. “They’re definitely flirting. My older sister looks like that when she’s texting sometimes.” She sounded gleeful. “Usually just before my mom takes her phone away.”

  Tom and Nina looked over; six little heads were peeping over the bookcase, like a row of ripening avocados on a windowsill. They ducked down again, and giggling was heard.

  She looked back at Tom and shrugged. “Sorry, they can’t help it. I have to go.”

  He nodded. “Yes, well, anyway . . .”

  She said, “Yeah . . .”

  He said, “See you at trivia?”

  She said, “Sure.”

  He said, “Bye then.”

  She said, “Bye, thanks for the ticket.”

  He said, “It was yours. I was returning it.”

  She said, “I know, but still.”

  He said, “Got it. Bye.”

  She said, “Bye.”

  He said, “See you.”

  She said, “Yeah.”

  She closed the door and turned to face the kids. They had popped back up and were looking at her over the top of the bookcase again. Nora was the first to comment.

  “Sister,” she said, “you need to work on your banter.”

  * * *

  • • •

  When Annabel’s mother, Lili, came to pick her up, she seemed stressed. Nina had always liked this mom; attractive without working at it, casually dressed, funny and mellow. But this evening she was rushing. Her hair was escaping from her bun in a way that had moved from messy to imminently undone. Nina itched to tuck it all in but managed to keep her hands to herself. Not everyone enjoys symmetry and control like you do, she reminded herself.

  “Bel, come on, baby, we’ve got to hustle.” Lili was hunting in her giant handbag for something.

  “Why?” asked Annabel. She wasn’t giving her mother attitude; she was just wondering.

  “Because I need to get home and finish those forty individualized packets of seeds to use as place markers at Tanty’s wedding.” Lili finally pulled out her car keys and looked at her watch. “And I literally need your help and you have to go to bed like an hour ago, which means I have to use child labor while also breaking child labor regulations about sufficient sleep.”

  Annabel frowned at her. “There are no child labor regulations about sleep in California.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there are,” chimed in Nina, who was picking up the beanbags. “You can’t work at all until you’re fourteen.”

  “But what about the sleep part?”

  Nina looked at Lili over Annabel’s head. “I think those regulations vary from state to state.”

  Annabel turned from Nina to her mom and narrowed her eyes. “What exactly does helping involve?”

  “Coloring in, tying ribbons, stickering, checking things off a list . . .”

  “Ooh, that sounds awesome,” said Nina, unable to help herself. Seriously, Lili had just rattled off four of her favorite activities.

  Annabel grinned. “Well then, there you go. Nina can help you and California won’t get mad.”

  Lili appeared embarrassed. “Bel, I’m sure Nina has plenty to do this evening.”

  “Actually, no,” said Nina. “You live in the neighborhood, right? I don’t mind helping. I love all that crafty and organizey stuff.”

  “You do?” Lili looked almost comically grateful. “It’s not my game at all. Well, the crafty part is OK, but I keep freaking out that I’ll forget someone or something and it’s really important.”

  Nina laughed. “Well, let me put away the rest of the stuff and close up the store, and I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes?”

  “You’re a goddess in human form,” said Lili.

  “She’s not very good at flirting, though,” said Annabel, firmly. She looked at Nina. “My mom has a boyfriend. Maybe she can help you.”

  Lili looked at her daughter in mild horror. “We’re going to get ice cream. We’ll see you in a little bit.”

  As they walked out of the store, Nina watched them pause after a few steps and tried not to lip-read Lili telling her daughter not to comment on people’s personal lives. Good luck with that, she thought.

  Ten

  In which Nina is helpful.

  Lili
lived fairly close to Larchmont, but nonetheless they drove, because it was Los Angeles. Besides, Lili had groceries, art supplies, and a giant bag of dog food to carry inside, so it was just as well Nina was there.

  “Oh, you have a dog!” said Nina, thrilled. She would love to have a dog, even though Phil the cat might not approve. She couldn’t stop herself from squatting down to greet Lili’s clearly ancient Labrador.

  “That’s Frank,” said Lili. “He’s a shameless food whore; yours for a single kibble.”

  Frank gazed into Nina’s eyes, trying to convince her to run away with him to a butcher’s shop. She smiled at him and rubbed his ears until he made grumbly noises at her.

  “Coffee?” asked Lili, putting away the groceries. Annabel had disappeared, presumably into her room. Another little girl appeared, younger than Annabel.

  “No, thanks,” replied Nina. “It’s too late for me.”

  “Too late for you because you’re dying or too late for you for some other reason?” asked the little girl, interestedly.

  “This is Clare,” said her mother. “Try and ignore her.”

  “Yes,” said Clare, smiling at Nina like an angel, “you can try.”

  “I meant it was too late for caffeine; it will keep me awake.”

  “Really? My mom drinks it all the time. But she’s much older than you, so maybe she’s more tired. People’s bodies wear out, you know.” She reminded Nina of Ramona Quimby, with her shiny little bob and big brown eyes. Not to mention her apparent lack of filter.

  Lili sighed. “I think they’re doing a biology project on decomposition or something; she’s all about death right now.”

  “Did you know,” said Clare, ignoring her mother, “that you have tiny insects living on your eyelashes, right now, eating your eyelash juice?”

  Nina raised her eyebrows. This kid had picked the wrong target. “Yes,” she said, “and not only on your eyelashes; the adult face has a thousand or so mites living on it at any one time. Did you also know,” she asked Clare, “that the entire world is covered in a microscopic layer of poop?”

  “Yes,” said Clare, “and did you know that tapeworms can grow eighty feet long?”

  “Yes, and did you know people produce a liter of snot every day?”

  “On a regular day!” said Clare, with relish. “And did you know the shiny coating on jelly beans is made from insect poop?” She paused. “Or it used to be. I don’t know if it still is.”

  Nina nodded, but Lili was done with this conversation. “That’s enough,” she said. “Honestly, you’re revolting, Clare.”

  “I’m not,” said Clare. “I’m learning.” She went closer to Nina. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Nina. I work at the bookstore where your sister does her book club.”

  Clare considered this. “Do you have a book club for littler kids?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Six.”

  “No, not yet. When you’re older you can join one.”

  Clare narrowed her eyes at Nina, as her older sister had done. “If we can read, we should be able to come.”

  “You might be bored.”

  Clare shrugged. “I’m willing to take that risk,” she said.

  Lili had finished putting away the groceries. “Time to get crafty,” she said, and led the way to the living room. Clare trailed after them.

  Lili spoke over her shoulder. “I have an office in the garage, but I’ve been doing this stuff in here so I can watch TV at the same time. Is that OK?”

  Nina nodded and Lili pulled out a basket containing a load of seed packets, each of which was different. They were all painted with flowers, and names had been worked into leaves and petals, vines and twigs. They were gorgeous.

  “Where did you get these? They’re great.” Nina turned them over in her hands.

  Lili smiled. “I made them. I’m an illustrator. These guests are confirmed, so now I need to thread this piece of ribbon here”—she demonstrated—“and then add an extra sealing sticker on the back flap here so the packets don’t burst open. The seeds are really, really small.”

  “Like poppy seeds?”

  “Exactly like. They’re California poppies.”

  “Cute.”

  “Inexpensive.” Lili grinned. “But also cute.”

  “Can I help, too?” asked Clare.

  “You’re supposed to be getting ready for bed.”

  “This looks more fun.”

  Lili considered her younger daughter for a moment, then smiled. “Sure, you can do the stickers.”

  They sat in a circle and started working.

  Nina asked, “So, who’s getting married?”

  “My aunty,” answered Clare, while her mother’s mouth was still opening. “She’s marrying a man she met in the street.”

  Nina looked at Lili, who was shaking her head. “My sister Rachel met her fiancé at the Grove, but for some reason Clare enjoys embroidering the truth.”

  “Maybe you’re a writer,” Nina said to the little girl. “They make up stuff for a living.”

  “Really? And it’s not lying?”

  Nina shook her head. “No, it’s called fiction.”

  “Huh.” Clare looked thoughtful. “Anyway, she’s marrying Richard, who’s very nice and tall.”

  “Do you mean nicely tall, like, he’s nice and tall, meaning really tall, or nice and also tall?”

  Clare looked at her and frowned.

  “Never mind,” said Nina.

  “He’s very tall,” Clare said slowly, “and he’s also nice. And he has a dog, too, and he makes my aunty laugh all the time, almost as much as my mom does.”

  Nina glanced at Lili, who was working on a blank seed packet with some watercolor pens. “You and your sister are close?”

  “Super close.” Lili was focused on her work, but continued. “She’s my best friend, which is why I don’t want to mess up her wedding by forgetting anyone. And she keeps randomly inviting more people.”

  “Well, that definitely makes it harder.”

  Lili sighed and waved the packet to dry it. “She’s very friendly. She’d be happy if total strangers came, honestly; she isn’t paying that much attention. I think if it had been up to her she would have eloped. She had a big wedding the first time she got married.” She turned her head and pretended to spit on the ground, which made Nina jump. “Sorry, family tradition; her first husband was a loser. Anyway, she had the big wedding, and the marriage was a disaster, every day of the five weeks it lasted. So she’s superstitious about it. She left it up to me.”

  “Did you have a fancy wedding?”

  There was a tiny pause, then Lili nodded. “Pretty fancy.”

  “My dad is dead,” piped up Clare.

  “Oh,” said Nina. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “No problem,” said the child. “I don’t think it matters anymore.”

  “It’s always going to matter, honey, but it’s been a long time.” Lili didn’t look up from her painting, but Nina could hear wistfulness in her voice.

  “Sam in my class has no dad, either.” Clare was clearly pursuing this topic.

  Lili raised her eyebrows at her daughter. “Sam has two moms.”

  “Bethany has no dad.”

  “She does; her parents aren’t together anymore, but she still has a dad. Totally different. Divorce is not the same as someone dying, honey.”

  “Why not? They’re still gone.” Nina realized Clare must have been very young when her dad died and didn’t have memories of him. She hoped Lili wasn’t finding this difficult to talk about. She busied herself with her ribbons.

  “Not really. Even if they aren’t very nice, they’re still around. Once someone has died, that’s it. All gone.”

  There was a pause while Clare considered this. The
n, “Mom has a new boyfriend now, anyway. Edward. He’s even taller than Richard, and even nicer. He brought me a tiny house for the garden. Do you want to see?”

  “When we’re done, sure.” Nina grinned at Clare. “You seem very interested in how tall people are.” Nina was happy to change the subject.

  Clare looked at her in surprise. “Of course. I’m forty-three inches tall.”

  Then she suddenly got up and walked out of the room. “I’m going to go and write a book now,” she said. “Bye, Nina. See you at the wedding.”

  With a thump, Frank the dog jumped off the sofa where he had been sleeping and lazily followed Clare. Perhaps he was going to give notes.

  * * *

  • • •

  An hour later they were done. Lili had taken Nina’s suggestion and made half a dozen that said Favored Guest, in case her sister invited a few more guests at the last minute and still had twenty packets in her basket.

  “The wedding is a week from Saturday, so she’s still got time to add people, and she can’t be trusted.” Lili was leaning back against the sofa, holding a glass of wine. Nina had one, too, and they were feeling pretty full of themselves. The finished seed packets looked beautiful, a rainbow of ribbons and flowers.

  “Don’t they need you to lock numbers at some point?”

  “We overestimated, in case.”

  “What else are you doing for the wedding? Are there centerpieces?”

  Lili shook her head. “No, it’s a picnic wedding.”

  Nina raised her eyebrows. “What if it rains?”

  Lili turned up her hands, “We can go inside the conservatory, I guess, where the ceremony is happening, but it’s the end of May in Los Angeles. The Internet says the chance of rain is about one percent, and Rachel was happy with those odds. She said she wanted people to sprawl at her wedding, and sprawl they will.”

  “How will it work?” Nina enjoyed the concept of weddings, although she was getting seriously sick of going to other people’s.

  Lili stretched. “We rented a load of big rugs, all different kinds, from a prop house, and we’re going to lay them out on the grass and surround them with the few hundred assorted pillows we also rented.” She looked at Nina. “You really are interested in organization.”