FIFTEEN
Tressa
“Some days, I swear I’d use my last dollar to hitch a ride on a bus anywhere warm.” Lucy whisked her hands together at my side, cracked vinyl of the city bus at our backs.
“Fun to visit, but isn’t braving the elements so much more fun? All that frigid air is good for the lungs.”
Lucy nailed me with a dark gaze, and the older gentleman at Lucy’s other shoulder huffed. “Never heard a heavier load of bullshit.”
Lucy and I broke into giggles, warmth thawing the cool temperatures via the 1970s ventilation system.
“Thanks for coming with me. I know if I get this job across town, I’ll have to get over it. But doing anything for the first time alone gives me such a serious set of butterflies, I’d probably fumble my way into reception while dropping off these applications.”
Lucy’s hands subconsciously cradled the tiny swell of her stomach through the heavy puffer coat she wore. Her feet were twisted at the ankles, toes worn through on her furry winter boots. “I owe you the thanks, trust.”
I looped her arm with mine, sending her a smile.
“Sisters?” The old man grinned.
“Not quite.” I shook my head. “Coworkers.”
“Roommates,” Lucy chirped.
His chestnut eyes brightened. “It’s good to see people loving each other. I know what you kids think about my generation, all the free love and peace stuff, but I, for one, don’t think that much love was a bad thing. Just finished this this morning.” He pulled an old, worn paperback from a giant pocket in the folds of his coat. “I usually hang on to a book for a few days after I finish it—” he leafed through the pages, callused pad of his thumb grazing the edges reverently “—sometimes to reread certain passages. I like to let the meaning of a story settle into my bones like dust on a bookshelf. This one, I never could quite get rid of. Been holding it right here since I found it in one of those tiny free-book libraries downtown. I’ve read it eight times, cover to cover. I happen to believe that some books are fated to the reader. No matter how many times you ignore them, somehow, they just keep chasing you down, begging you to crack the wisdom inside. There’s a splash of dark roast on page thirty-eight that makes me cringe every time. Still relive the moment a tourist in the park tossed a nickel and three pennies into my cup and left a permanent stain. When you get to it, I apologize on behalf of that animal.” His lips twisted into a wry smirk. “But, this book, my dear”—his gaze hung heavy on mine—“I think this one was meant for you.”
A ball of emotion rolled over my vocal cords as I nodded, unable to break the sweet old man’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” He squinted his eyes before squeaky brake pads slowed us to a halt and the exit doors of the bus swung open. “This is my stop.” He stood, winking once before walking off the bus and down the congested sidewalk, his broad shoulders and the dark knit hat on his head lost in a sea of strangers.
“This is our stop too, I think.” Lucy snatched the manila envelope that held my resume and completed application inside. “Yup.”
She grabbed my arm and escorted me down the steps, bumping my shoulder when our feet hit the sidewalk.
“You okay?” she asked.
“That guy, that was kind of intense, right?”
Her eyes shot up, then she shrugged. “What book did he give you?”
I flipped the soft paperback in my hands, shades of orange and licks of yellow splashing across my vision.“The Alchemist.”
Lucy’s eyes scrunched. “Haven’t heard of it.”
“I have.” My hands tightened on the binding. “I had a professor who had a signed copy of this.” I swallowed a shard of pain lancing my throat, eyes shuddering closed as I thought about that book, its glossy, mint-condition cover mocking me every day. The overwhelming urge to toss this one in the garbage was like a violent wave in my gut.
“I haven’t read it.”
I pushed the paperback deep down into my tote bag, half praying it’d fall out a mysterious hole I hadn’t yet discovered, never to be seen again.
“I’ll read it.” Lucy beamed, unaware of the flurry of anguish that fucking book had set off inside me.
“I’ve heard it’s good.” I snagged my manila envelope from her hand, just to have something to cover my raging heart. “303 Broad Street. I think that’s this way?”
Lucy nodded, setting off ahead of me as the memory of that old man’s eyes still haunted my mind. “You know that I definitely, one-thousand percent, want the best for you, right, Tressa?” I’d never been so thankful for Lucy’s chatter a few steps ahead. “I’m happy that you’re moving on and whatever, and this comes from a totally selfish place, but I can’t even imagine not living with you. I’ve never really lived with anyone so…” She quirked her head over her shoulder, catching my eye with a grin. “…healthy.”
“Healthy?” I laughed. “First time anyone has ever applied that word to me.”
Lucy’s smile fell, head shaking from side to side. “You don’t even see it, do you?”
