“Will you show me where that door is—in the store?” I add this last part hastily because I don’t mean to imply that I’m inviting a good-looking single man up to my apartment two days after meeting him, even if I’m definitely thinking about it. We haven’t spoken of the fact that he asked me out and then never texted, and I’m too embarrassed to bring it up. I have to find out what Maggie did to the Blakelys before I can truly untangle everyone’s feelings, including my own.
Hunter nods and holds open the glass front door for me, and I step inside to the scent of possibly overboiled boiled peanuts. I don’t see a single person—no one browsing the stacks and no Abraham sleeping in his usual chair. I have inherited the world’s emptiest store, filled to the brim with the world’s least viable product.
He points to the far door on the left. “That one goes into a shared storage room with the hardware store next door. Lot of good space in there, but it’ll need some cleaning out if you want to use it. Bathroom door is marked, of course.” He points to a door on the right. “And that one has the stairs.” He nods at Abraham’s lawn chair. “Huh. That’s weird. He’s usually asleep in that chair about this time.”
A small but persistent alarm bell begins to ring in my head as a chill strokes up my spine. This doesn’t feel right.
“Where does Abraham live?” I ask nervously. “I know he just abandons the store sometimes….”
“No idea. He’s a private guy.”
I move the backpack around front and gently bounce it. “I wish someone around here knew more about Abraham,” I say.
Maggie shakes herself awake. “Abraham? He’s my uncle. Never married. I was his only family, which is why you have to keep paying him.”
“But where is he, I wonder,” I continue.
She perks up and presses a beady red eye against the screened front of the bag. “He should be in that chair, sleeping. He usually wakes up and locks the door around ten.”
“Does anybody know where he lives?” I ask again.
“Maggie might’ve. She knew him better than anyone,” Hunter says, oblivious to my private, half-telepathic conversation with a sleepy parrot.
We’re both still standing just inside the front door as if something is holding us back from venturing farther within.
“Abraham?” I call.
No answer.
“Sometimes he sleeps in the stairwell,” Maggie admits.
Fine, then. This is my business, he’s my employee, and I’m going to check the stairwell. I walk a circle of the entire store first, just to make sure he isn’t curled up in a corner or using the restroom. He’s not behind the counter, and the only places left to look are the two doors Hunter has just pointed out to me. Both possibilities seem equally creepy, so I head for the stairwell.
“Abraham?” I call again.
There’s no answer, not even a rustle or snore from the other side. Hunter is right behind me, his hand out like he wants to besupportive but doesn’t want to accidentally touch me. I grab the doorknob, and it’s colder than it should be.
When I open the door, we find Abraham, right where Maggie said he would be.
But he’s not asleep.
He’s dead.
20.
“Abraham!” I call,even though I can already tell there’s no point.
I haven’t seen a lot of dead people, but I’ve seen a lot of alive people, and they are never, ever that pale and still. Also, when they’re asleep, their eyes aren’t wide open and dry.
“Shipoopi!” Maggie screeches from the backpack.
It’s apropos, at least. The stairwell has…that smell.
I’m about to ask what to do, but Hunter already has his phone out. I’ve never called 911 before, but it seems like he knows whoever answers. I’m yet again shocked by what a small town Arcadia Falls is.
“Hey, it’s Hunter. I’m at the video store. Looks like Abraham died. Uh-huh. Thanks.” He turns to me. “They’re on their way. There’s nothing we can do, but there are steps to follow.”
The next hour is beyond surreal. Hunter and I leave Abraham where he is and go stand just outside the front door as if trying to put as much distance between us and death as we can. He lifts his arm like he might put it around me, but it wavers there in a stretch and then drops sadly to his side. I’m grateful for hispresence but rendered mute by the shock of finding a dead body. Sirens start up and get closer and closer. There’s an ambulance, a fire truck, and a police car, the placid night now full of blinking lights and cacophonous noise. The EMTs go in first and confirm that Abraham is gone. They roll in a gurney and place him on it, flat on his back under a white sheet. Hunter and I stay by the door, giving them space to do their work as they slide him into the back of the ambulance and drive away.
