The Red Strokes - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 from my latest release, 'The Red Strokes', available on Amazon.

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

I fell in love with bookstores shortly after Mia released her first book and before I met Scotty. Lured in by the overstuffed chairs, specialty coffees, and Godiva cheesecake, I found myself going to Barnes and Noble several times a week while Doriah was at school. I had a routine. First, I would place my coffee order and then say hello to the clerk at the information desk as I made the trek through biography and history and past gardening and crafts until I reached the literature section. There I would make myself comfortable in one of the four imitation leather chairs and thumb through a copy of Mia’s book. I’d pretend to be reading, but secretly I was hoping that someone would walk by, see me holding it, and ask, ‘Is that book any good’ just so I could beam with delight when I replied that the author, Mia Kincaid, was my sister. I thought I would feel the glory of fame even if only vicariously through Mia. I was so proud of her and thought that desire alone would somehow transform pride in my sister into pride within myself. When that didn’t work I began buying books; writing guides, thesauruses, and instruction manuals believing that absorbing their content would somehow give me the same gift Mia was born with. But no one ever asked about Mia’s book and I now have in the neighborhood of thirty reference books that I’m too embarrassed to admit I bought. Although I no longer come to the bookstore to tag along in Mia’s shadow, I still makes regular visits. Now it’s to people watch. At some point I realized that what I could learn from watching and listening to the world around me would take me further than any book I’d ever read.

For instance, to my left sits a woman with a stack of books, their bindings facing me. Widow to Widow, I Wasn’t Ready To Say Goodbye, and How To Go On Living among the titles I can see. She sits with both hands wrapped around a hot chocolate, staring through its steam to the stack in front of her, as if by doing so she can will the pain of her recent loss to subside.

To the right of me sits a man without a drink or a book, only a cane, which he uses to prop one trembling hand. He stares past the empty chairs, through the plate glass, and into the parking lot. Something tells me that this has become his habit, a ritual that wards off loneliness while he passes the time until he rejoins the person he envisions on the other side of the window.

Behind the counter stands a young girl, her multi-colored hair in braids, and with an obvious baby bump, which she shows off proudly in her midriff shirt. She alternates looking between the clock and the front door every few minutes while cracking her gum in time with the elevator music that fills the cafe. I imagine that if I sit here long enough an equally young-looking boy with baggy pants, gaged ears, and a ball cap worn sideways will breeze through the front door at the end of her shift and they will leave together, happy for nothing more than quitting time and the endless possibilities of youth.

I know I shouldn’t be here. Not today. But I needed the me-time that doesn’t exist in a full house. Even if just an hour to gather my thoughts. I have to think about how I’m going to tell Bryan that his pride and joy is expecting her very own pride and joy. I also have to think about my relationship with George. Things between us are less-than-perfect, but I’m not sure being alone would make me any happier. If Scotty were alive, I wouldn’t have to worry about such issues, but then again, if Scotty were alive and I happened across a dilemma he would have supported me through it. Whatever it took. I miss that support as much as I miss the man and suddenly feel a kinship to the woman mourning over her stack of books.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

I turn to find Val standing a few feet away.

“You’ve missed a busy morning at the house.”

I look away. “I’m a coward, I admit it. I just didn’t think I could pull off the phony smile that’s expected each time a neighbor hands me a covered dish.”

“Ah, the condolence casseroles.” Val nods and takes the chair across from me. “But that’s not exactly what I was talking about.”

“Then what?”

“Well, first there was a young girl. Late teens maybe. She wouldn’t tell me who she was; just that she was looking for you.”

“Probably just one of Doriah’s friends. A lot of the locals have heard.”

“Something tells me not, but I’m sure she’ll be back. Anyway, on to the next and more interesting visitor.”

“Who was it?” I ask, pushing the young girl out of my mind.

“Your incredibly good-looking neighbor, Mr. Shepard.”

“From the blue house?”

“That would be the one.”

“You thought he was good-looking?”

“I’m gay, not blind.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean�"”

“I know what you meant,” Val interrupts with a wave of her hand. “Listen, when Gisele Bundchen starts down the catwalk even straight women stutter.”

“She is pretty.”

“Now what’s the deal with this guy? Married?”

Uninterested in the topic, I take a sip of my coffee before answering. “If he is, I’m sure his wife has had about all of the hospitality she can stand.”

“Come again?”

“He moved in about a month ago and since then there’s been a steady parade of Bundt cakes delivered by the single ladies of the neighborhood.”

“So he is single.” Val purses her lips. “And what gift did you bear for a closer look at Adonis in the blue house?”

I shake my head.

“Not very neighborly of you, sis.”

I drink the last mouthful of coffee, which has become too cold to swallow without a grimace. I have so many reasons for not paying my new neighbor a welcoming visit, but would have no idea where to begin with Val. No matter how much I love her and no matter how unaffected I am by my sister’s choices in life, I can’t see her as being the go-to person when it comes to men. “I don’t think he needs another Bundt cake.” I toss my empty cup into the trashcan behind me. “What did he want?”

“He wanted to know if you’d like to join him for cake.” Val smiles and I feign annoyance. “He wanted to apologize to you for the hole in your flower bed dug by his equally good-looking dog, Toby. I personally think he dug it himself so he had an excuse to meet you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well for starters, the hole is about two feet wide and almost as deep.”

“So.”

“Toby is a four and a half pound Yorkie.” While I think about that, Val adds, “And your sister called. Twice.”

“My sister? Why do I get her?” I mirror Val’s smile. “What did she want?”

Val straightens in her seat and crosses one leg over the other, folding her hands over her knee. “First, and I quote, ‘Why does Lilah have a cell phone if she isn’t going to answer it?’ and then it was to tell you that dad chose to live out eternity in his favorite black suit, but since he’s lost so much weight it looks like he’s wrapped in a pool cover and she won’t have it. So she bought him a new, blue suit. She wasn’t exactly calling for permission; it was more of an I-did-it-get-over-it call.”

“I’m over it. How about you?”

“Done.” Val’s expression becomes more serious. “There’s something else.”

“Okay.”

“The media knows.”

“How did that happen?”

“Not sure, but it was on the noon news. I was thinking we might want to let Harold know. Maybe up the security a little?”

I nod, but my mind is on everything except security.

As we exit the store a boy of about nineteen zigzags his way through the parked cars, barely looking before crossing the lot and pulling open one of the heavy doors that just closed behind us. I wonder if he’s the boyfriend of the girl behind the counter.

“Are you with me? What do you think?”

I return my attention to my sister. “I’m sorry. Think about what?”

“Security�"never mind. I’ll call Harold when I get back.”

My car is parked closest. We stop in front of it and I ask, “Are you coming back to the house with me?”

“No. I dropped Michelle off at the mall so I could have a few minutes alone with you. I’m going to pick her up and then I think we’re going canoeing on Lake Marburg.”

“Canoeing. Sure beats what I’m going home to do.”

“What’s that?” Val asks.

“Bryan is coming to pick Doriah up later today and when he does we have to sit him down and inform him that he’s going to be a grandpa.”

“No s**t? Oh my god I’m so happy for her.” Val’s smile disappears. “Yes? No, shouldn’t I be happy? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I offer a defeated shrug. “I was holding off telling anyone until Bryan and I talked, but the right moment for that never seems to present itself. Besides, Mia noticed a baby magazine lying around when she was there the other day and questioned it. She wouldn’t let up so I ended up telling her, which means that I’ll have to tell everyone now or she will.” I unlock the car and open the door. “As for being happy, yes and no. It is my first grandchild, but she is only seventeen.”

Val leans in for a hug and holds me an extra second or two. “That should add about ten years to Bryan’s ego.”

“I suppose this is my segue into middle age.” I try to force something between a smile and a laugh, but happiness�"in any form�"isn’t one of the emotions I’m feeling.

Val says, “If this is the worst trouble she ever finds herself in, consider yourself lucky.”

“Enjoy the lake.”

We wave each other off and I head home with nothing more on my mind than getting through the next few days.