I take a second and think about it.
I want a lot of things. I want a do-over of the last ten years. I want to live in a world where my dad is still alive. One where my sister and I still speak. One where I don’t sabotage myself and my dreams. One where I am in control. Where I know myself and my strength. One where I am a force of nature. The main character instead of the wallflower side character that you don’t think twice about.
As if hearing all of my inner dialogue loud and clear, he stands and says, “I know just the thing.”
Mr. Tatler gesturesfor me to follow him. Placing my coffee down on the wobbly side table, I trail him to a peeling gray door at the back of the shop. He fishes a small keyring from his pocket and jostles the door open to reveal a secret staircase.
“What’s up there?” I ask.
“My prized books. Some first editions, special editions. I suspect you are in need of something sturdier than your average paperback.”
I follow him up the stairs and wait as he keys open another door.
“Why have I never seen this before?” I ask as he holds it open for me to pass.
“I don’t keep this open to the general public.”
I take in the room. I didn’t think this place could be any cozier—any homier—but this second floor is even more charming than the first. Dark mahogany bookshelves line the walls. In the center of the room are two large glossy wooden reading tables and chairs. Large windows framed by thick cobalt curtains sit on the far wall, bathing the room in buttery sunlight. The smell of old books is mixed with something that reminds me of shoe polish, of fresh leather. The whole room gives off an air of rich academia.
“This is beautiful!” I trail my fingers along the multicolored spines as I pass by, not recognizing any titles. “I had no idea this was up here.”
“That’s the idea now, isn’t it?” He smirks when I glance his way.
“So, Doc, what do you recommend? First edition ofPride and Prejudice, or will it be a signed copy ofAnna Karenina?" I tease.
"Neither, I'm afraid." He pulls his hands from his pockets and strides over to the far wall where a tall glass bookcase stands nestled in the corner. It shimmers in the light of the sun—spotless, without a speck of dust. Inside the glass case is a heavy book of the deepest purple with silver leaf detailing a shape that resembles a winged creature.
Something seems to hum from that direction. A nearly imperceptible vibrational pull.
“It sings to you,” he says, barely louder than a whisper.
Easing open the case, he removes the beautiful volume and smooths the cover in his crinkled hands. Placing it down on one of the large reading tables, he pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit. I knit my brows together as I slide into the wooden seat.
“This.” He points a finger atop the book’s binding, peering down at me. “This is what I would recommend for your particular ordeal.”
“Mr. T, I was just venting about my life. It’s no big?—”
“I know I am not mistaken,” he cuts me off, “in thinking you desire more from your life. And that life desires more from you.”
“Mr. T, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but what is this?” I tilt my head, staring up at him quizzically.
“Open it,” he says. I flip open the heavy leather-bound cover. The lining is a velvety black material, and as I turn the first page of cream-colored parchment, I realize it is blank. As is the second page, the third, the fourth… I glance up at him, perplexed.
“It’s blank.”
“Look closely. It is not blank, even though it is unseen.”
Okay, dude, I’ll bite.
I squint, seeing nothing. “I’m looking closely,” I sing, drumming my nails on the table. “Still not seeing anything.”
“Your story lies between the folds of these pages, waiting to be revealed. To be discovered. To be lived.” I shake my head, not understanding his cryptic riddles.
“But how do I read it if I can’t see anything on the page?” I persist.
“You need only ask.”
“Are there magic words or something?” I chuckle doubtfully to hide my growing exasperation.
