And just like that, the grief and panic hit me, rolling through my body like a wave. How much longer would I be able to see the world? How many more days would I be able to put together a killer outfit like the cuffed red tartan pants, white sleeveless shirt, and leather suspenders I now wore? How many nights would I be able to stay up late reading in bed? How many more times would I be able to stare into the icy depths of Morrie’s eyes, and see him staring back?
I opened my eyes as wide as I could, and took in every detail of the passing flats. Would I miss their drab, peeling paint and the rows of overflowing bins lining the footpath? I didn’t want to find out.
But sooner or later it would happen, and I… I wasn’t ready. I felt like I’d created a little world for myself inside the bookshop – the kind of family I’d never had when it was just my mum and me, the friends I’d been so desperate to have back in secondary school. But then I remembered why I was back in Argleton in the first place, and the dread settled on me and took away all the happiness I’d managed to claw back.
And when you added in all the messed-up feelings I had for the guys… For Morrie, whose touch made my body sing but whose criminal escapades terrified me. For Heathcliff, whose dark heart begged me to save him but whose story I knew contained another that he would always love. For Quoth, whose kind heart melted mine but who would never be able to lead a normal life.
All perfect guys, and any relationship I had with them was doomed to fail. The inevitability of that failure hung in the air between us, unspoken, like the characters inOf Mice and Men. It left us with what Morrie and I had – fuck buddies, friends-with-benefits. It was fun… the most fun I’d ever had in mylife. But how long was that going to last before it destroyed all our friendships?
What the hell am I doing?
You could just not sleep with any of them,a voice inside my head reminded me.
I almost laughed. Yeah, because that was an option. Clearly, my conscience had its eyes closed whenever I entered the shop because hot damn, I wouldn’t be saying no to any of them.
You could be with all of them,the voice offered.Quoth said—
Also not an option. That just would never work.
Wouldn’t it? Why not?
I reached the village and crossed the green toward the shops. Quoth’s words from a month ago reverberated around in my head. It was after he saw Morrie and me together, and he’d followed me and told me how they all wanted me to be happy and safe, about how none of them wanted to compete for me. As if they’d discussed it, as if they were okay with it.
Obviously, Quoth knew about Morrie and me, and I had to assume Heathcliff did, too. We hadn’t exactly been quiet this last month. But neither of them had said anything about it. In fact, Quoth flirted with me the other day. Heathcliff was a big grump, but that was no different from usual. In fact, he’d even gone out – of his own volition – and brought back lunch for me last week. So maybe they really did want to share me. Maybe it reallycouldwork.
This is insane. I’ve got to stop thinking about this as if it’s an actual option.
The bakery across the road from the shop wasn’t open yet. I could see Greta – the German girl who owned the bakery – through the window, sliding trays of pies into the ovens and dusting her cream doughnuts with powdered sugar. I waved at her and she waved back. I couldn’t help but grin. Back in New York City, you’d never wave to shopkeepers or bakers, because everyone was a stranger.
I slid my key into the front door and pushed it open. The floorboards creaked under my feet as I entered the darkened shop. I fumbled along the shelf and flicked on the small lamp I’d installed by the front door the other day. It was shaped like an old, bent pipe, with a funky Edison bulb to illuminate a small circle around my feet. Heathcliff hadn’t noticed it.
“Meow?”
“Hey, Grimalkin.” I bent down and brushed my hand over her soft fur. She leapt into my arms, butting her head against my chin.
“Fine,” I laughed, stroking her under the chin until her body vibrated with purrs. “I can see no one else is up yet. I’ll get you something to eat.”
I walked into the main room, flicking on the lights as I went. Behind Heathcliff’s desk was a bowl for Grimalkin and one for Quoth, who liked to snack on berries during the day while he was in his raven form. I filled Grimalkin’s bowl with a packet of wet food, and she chowed down hungrily.
“Did you catch that mouse yet, girl?” I asked her as I stacked the papers on Heathcliff’s desk and made a new line in the ledger for the day’s sales.
Grimalkin looked up from her bowl and gave me a pained look.Don’t ask me about that bloody mouse, she seemed to be saying.
“Oh well. I couldn’t catch it, either. Better luck next time.” I rubbed her head. She purred against my hand. “See? I don’t need a cat dictionary. We understand each other perfectly.”
The World History room was behind the main room. It had probably been the ballroom during the Victorian period of the house, judging by the expensive flocked wallpaper, baby piano piled with books beside the imposing fireplace, twin chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, narrow doorway leading off to what had once been the kitchen, and the original chaise lounge and Chinese tea table in the pentagonal alcove. Two rows of shelves along the center of the room held volumes on archaeology, military history, and British/Scottish/Welsh history. A small display in the corner held popular conspiracy theory books – Heathcliff’s idea of a joke. Random chairs and haphazard stacks of books lined the walls.
If we rearrange the shelves so they run the opposite way, we’ll have more room in the pentagon for some extra chairs and a table for the Banned Book Club.My mind whirred at the possibilities. In fact, the dimensions of the room were much more generous than I remembered.If we pushed the shelves right back against the walls, we could hold other events in here… book readings, exhibitions, even a gallery opening for Quoth—
“You know, for sleeping with the world’s foremost criminal mind, you need to work on your breaking and entering skills.”
I whirled around. Quoth perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, hugging his feet to his chest. A couple of black feathers stuck to his hair, which caught the light streaming in through the windows, shooting jets of color through the obsidian strands.
“Technically, I’m justentering,” I held up my key. “I didn’t even hear you come downstairs.”
“You must have been lost in thought, because I’ve been tapping on the chamber door for a while now.” He rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.
“You’re so funny. Hey, do you have to poop on yourself for quoting that poem?”
