“Bookends” First Chapter

I am in love with a man I will never meet. From my backstreet bookstore in my hometown, I sell the words of this love to all who share my passion for the works of Daniel Cassidy.

Bookends is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. My store is small, practically in the basement of a jewelry store on Phila Street in Saratoga Springs, but it’s cozy. My own private heaven. Part of this heaven was peace and quiet, which almost bittersweetly, I have plenty to spare here.

Just two blocks down the road is a chain store. They had prime real estate on Broadway, and licensing with all the major publishers. Working on trade-ins and buy-backs, I really just can’t compete. I’m lucky to get a dozen customers on any given day, or fifty in the summer when Saratoga is hot with horse racing. When people do come in though, it is rarely to buy.

My store is an attraction. People like to look at the ancient books locked in glass cases, and comment “If I had enough money…” What people do buy are old books from their childhood, or Daniel Cassidy’s books. But other than his, I can’t bring myself to bring in all these new paperbacks fresh off the print. On top of the fact that too many books today are just the lowest-common-denominator smut, with what looks like the same graphic designer doing the work on

EVERY.

SINGLE.

ROMANCE book, I believe a book has so much more meaning when it’s shared. When I pick up a book that looks like it’s been read through a hundred times, I know it has a history to it. Someone loved it before me and now I get to share in that. It’s even better when it comes directly from a friend, giving you their copy to read because they just had to share it with someone. That’s the kind of feeling I want to foster in my store. I want you to come in and share in an emotional journey with someone. You don’t get that in a corporate bookstore or in a digital copy. At that point, it’s just words. Other people may have read it, but it’s not like holding something physical that has passed through the hands of people who connected with it. Sure, this becomes a problem when the back room of the store is brimming with hundred-year-old books that I just can not let the owner sell. Do I get a little too attached? Sure. But at least I’m aware of my problem and that makes it okay, right?

Even though I just made that rant, I do have one exception to my rule you might have guessed.

There are not enough copies of Daniel Cassidy’s books in the world for everyone to get to, and patience can go right out the window waiting for someone to finish their copy that you can borrow. No, you need to read day one. Be the first at the store and read it five times on that first day. He will CHANGE YOUR LIFE! So, I do my part, and provide you with his art. You’re welcome!

But I guess my story isn’t about Daniel Cassidy. Maybe one day I’d see the writer on one of his book tours, which would ironically be at the store right up the block from me. But for now, at this very moment, there are two men in my life. The first is the UPS guy that will be delivering the stock of Cassidy’s latest book, and the other is the one I’m stuck with, and trying desperately to get rid of.

At least once a week Harry comes around. And every week, it’s the same old lean-on-my-counter-with-a-book-he-might-have-heard-me-mention-in-passing-one-time trick. Sometimes he tries to play it off like he was visiting his sister, Nyx, who owns Witch’s Brew next door, but I know better.

“What is it this week, Harry?” I ask.

What attracted me to Harry in the first place was how naturally cool he is.

Was.

We’d known each other for a while through a mutual friend/roommate, Aria, but didn’t formally meet for the longest time. Then one evening about, what, four years ago(?), Aria had convinced me to go out to one of the bars on Caroline Street with her. I’m not really one for partying or bars, but I figured ‘what the hell’ and went out anyway just to try something new. Not even an hour into the night, Aria was off with some other guy and ditched me to find my own way home. I tried to make my way out of the bar through the suffocating crowd, but every inch of the place was filled with groups of rowdy drunk girls singing way too loud together, or guys desperate to find a girl they could buy a drink for. At every step I took I was either being tossed around or blocked off by someone who “just wanted to dance.” It wasn’t until Harry, who had noticed me from across the dimly lit room, forced his way through the crowd and escorted me to the exit. When he first touched my hand, I thought he was trying to kidnap me, but the softness of his hold somehow convinced me it was okay. I couldn’t see his face, only heard him shout at people to “make room! She’s gonna throw up!” That sure did the trick. In seconds we were out of there and he let go of my hand. Now able to breathe again, I was able to take in who it was that got me out of there. Harry’s warm, kind smile softened my beating heart. When he spoke, it was more friendly than anything else and did a great deal to put me at ease. From there, the night seriously turned around.

In hindsight, I should have realized he should only ever have been a friend.

“Good afternoon to you too,” he always says with a flirty smile. “I heard this one was a good read.” This week, Harry slides over a battered, spineless copy of The Princess Bride.

I can’t believe this guy. How long has it been since we broke up? Two, maybe three months?

Yet, he shows his resilience with as much charm as he can muster. “Never heard of the writer though, S. Morgenstern? What else did he write?”

“He didn’t. The guy’s not real. But I appreciate the effort.”

Look, I don’t hate the guy. We dated for a reason, and I guess it’s partially my fault he still hangs around. Like every other couple, we said we could stay friends after the break-up. “Not the right time” and all. We kept on texting a little here and there, just making sure we were both okay and when he asked to hang out, I didn’t want to hurt him more and say no. And now here we are. Two or three months later I see him regularly. The biggest issue is I know I’ll never want him again, but he’ll never move on.

Shit, I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a bitch.

“Wait if the guy’s not real, who wrote the book?” He asks, now genuinely (I think) curious.

I can’t help but smile lightly at him. “It was just a joke by the real writer, William Goldman. The book messes with the audience by starting with a note by Goldman saying that what you’re reading is just his abridged version of the original book.” I reach over the counter and begin to flip through the author’s note to show him.

He leans in closer as well, but I know it’s not so he can get a better view of the book.

Sometimes I wish moments like that would spark something in me again. I want a moment in my life like in one of Cassidy’s books. I can’t stand enemies-to-lovers tropes but, like a taboo, I do think about it happening to me sometimes. I want to feel that tension in the air. That raw sexual urge to grab each other and devour his face… but with Harry, it’s just not there.

I pull back from the counter and my eyes drift to a woman wandering around in the next room over. She’s been browsing for a while and is starting to come off as the kind of person who will touch everything in the store but never buy anything. Right now, I feel like letting my mind escape to people-watch, rather than giving in to this conversation with Harry, but he also hasn’t crossed any lines into annoyance yet.

“That’s an old copy. It’s a bit beat up but still goes for quite a bit.”

He straightened up, but his smile never faltered. “How much is quite a bit?”

“Enough that you might wanna wait for our Black Friday Sale. Half off everything used!” I joke, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Oh, come on, for this?” He holds it up, lack-of-spine side to me. “How much could this go for?”

Without thinking, I reach closer and tap the small yellow price sticker on the top left corner that reads “$150.”

“You should see how much people will pay with the spine still on.”

He stares down at it, unbelieving, but I know exactly what’s going on in his head. “Well, you know me…” and he laughs uncomfortably. “Just want to support the local business. Gotta keep this place afloat somehow right?”

See, this is why he pisses me off sometimes. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just not my guy. He can’t just not be nice once in a while. He had no problem with it when we were dating. And with this case in particular, with my store… God, it doesn’t even matter. It’s not like I’ll be here much longer anyway.

I didn’t realize how long I took to respond, and before I knew it, he had his wallet out, card slid my way.

“I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

He knows, doesn’t he?

I ring him up and offer him a bag which he doesn’t accept. Now comes the part I dread the most every week when he asks me out and I have to-

“Take care, Silvia!” He’s walking out the door!

My head shoots around as he leaves, confused, and honestly slightly disappointed. I raise my hand to give a polite wave, but my face doesn’t betray the confusion.

He leaves me with another small smile.

Now I know what you’re thinking. At least, I’ll take a guess. Oh, he isn’t that bad, I bet they’ll end up together. No. I promise you; he is not the man for me. If only you’d seen what we had been through, all those delusions for a fairy tale get-back-together would disappear in the blink of an eye. Besides, as I said already, my heart belongs to Daniel Cassidy. And as Harry exits this scene, he bumps into the delivery man with Cassidy’s latest novel.

I help the delivery man through the door and tell him to leave the box on the counter, then I rush to sign for the delivery as quickly as possible so I can open it up.

And there it is. Seventy-five brand new copies of Stargazing into her Eyes by Daniel Cassidy, the first book in his latest series, a sci-fi romance story about a scientist whose wife was lost in space and he has to travel the universe to find her again. Doesn’t that just scream classic romance? I can’t wait to read it!

Every fiber of my being is telling me to close shop and hide in my corner in the back room to get started. But thankfully, it’s almost my lunch break, and I don’t have to close.

I shout to the back where my boss is working, “New delivery!”

“Cassidy?” she asks with indifference.

I would think that for being the owner of a store like this, she’d be-

No, just as a person who appreciates GOOD WRITING! for Christ’s sake, she’d be a little more excited for Daniel Cassidy’s books. But no, Eliza May got through the first two chapters of his book Vanilla + Cherry and gave up! Crazy, I know. By and large, her taste is good, but everyone has at least one bad opinion, right?

I promise I’m not this snobbish all the time. Tell me honestly, there’s something you’re passionate about that you get annoyed at others for not understanding right?

“Who else?” I shout back, trying to sound more gleeful than condescending. I really do love Eliza. Cassidy is the one thing we don’t see eye to eye on.

She walks in from her office in the back and reads my mind. “Go on dear,” she says. “Take your lunch. I know you’re dying to get started and I’ll dock it from your pay.”

Eliza truly is a wonderful old lady. She and her husband opened Bookends nearly fifty years ago, and from the pictures I’ve seen of the place, it’s just as crowded with old books now as it was then. But back in the days of the younger Mr. and Mrs. May, people were more enthusiastic about what they offered. Sometimes I think it was their love for each other, bleeding into their passion for the store that attracted customers. That too would have been a wonderful story.

But that’s not the one I’m concerned with right now.

Instead of dwelling on that, I grab a copy of Stargazing into Her Eyes and hold it tightly against my chest.

“Thank you! I’ll just be in the back!”

Eliza dismisses me with a wave and I’m off to fall in love with Daniel Cassidy all over again.

The back room used to be much bigger. Eliza’s desk is up against the far wall, with the room’s one lamp on her desk. There’s a short but wide green couch on the right side of the room that’s been sitting there since the place opened, and it shows. I don’t know how many times Eliza said she would get the thing upholstered, but I also don’t blame her for not getting it done. It’s like the old hatchet question. If the head breaks off and it gets replaced, is it still the same hatchet? What if the handle gets replaced next? Most of the tears can’t be seen though. They’re hidden by those old books I mentioned, the ones I’m too attached to. Which I know, bad for business. Those old books line the rest of the walls of the room like books were used to build the place. There isn’t even a door for the room. I was feeling silly one day last year and stacked some of the books to make an archway. Eliza wasn’t a fan at first, but I think it’s cute. And it ties the place together well for a comfy cozy little reading area.

Sitting on the couch, I stare at the artwork on the cover of Stargazing into her Eyes. My heart beats fast at the look the main characters are giving each other, with star-filled galaxies backlighting them. It’s simple posing, but the level of stylization and attention to detail that went into the art is breathtaking. It’s so much richer than those flat, single-shaded characters you see on all the others.

Before opening it, I take a moment to smell the fresh paper, inked with the words I know are bound to send me to a paradise in my head. I then run my finger slowly down the spine. The letters are raised and I love the texture. I then turn the cover of the paperback over, opening the first crease of the spine. Oh, how I love that feeling.

Okay, now we skip ahead.

Forget the legal text.

Forget the contents. I don’t want to risk spoilers.

Forget the dedication. To Auburn? No, that should be for me.

Forget the foreward. Honestly, I like going in without context, sometimes.

And here’s the prologue.

The last thing Dillon saw of Louise as her pod ejected from their ship were her sparkling sapphire eyes and the tears that flowed from them. Explosions rang out all around the station. Asteroids pelted them with an incredible fury and accuracy that some would call intent.

Dillon had to all but force Louise into the one-man pod, struggling to maintain the appearance of being just her superior officer, in order to ensure the rest of the crew on the ship wouldn’t assume anything about their romantic involvement. That’s to say, that he was playing favorites. But Louise said, “To hell with what they think.” She drew the line of discretion when danger and death were in the air. No, if she had to leave, he was coming with her.

“Louise, I won’t fit in there! There’s no time to argue, I’ll find another pod!”

The station rocked as an asteroid hit.

Louise grabbed Dillon’s large, calloused hands, “I’m not leaving without you!”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay, darling.” He tried to sound soft and sweet, then raised her hands to kiss them, but the station shuddered again, more violently than ever before.

Louise fell and slammed the back of her head against the pod’s navigation console.

Dillon struggled to maintain his balance but was knocked over by a passing crewmate.

“Captain! We have to leave! There are more pods in the next sector!”

Before Dillon could say anything, the crewmate slammed the ejection button for Louise’s pod. The airlock sealed and Louise began to fly out into space.

Dillon jumped to his feet, banging on the airlock.

“Louise! Louise! I’ll find you!”

He couldn’t hear her voice but saw her screaming back at him with tears in her eyes.

The crewmate tried with all his might to push Dillon down the hall to the next sector.

“Come on, Captain! She’s fine but this whole place is comin’ apart!”

Dillon, aching heart holding him in place, couldn’t say anything but continue to call for Louise. He wanted to believe this wasn’t the end, but hadn’t even been able to kiss her goodbye for what he hoped was only a brief separation.

Under the terrible banging and crashing of the crumbling space station, Dillon couldn’t hear what the crewmate was shouting at him. He also could no longer keep himself planted. Dillon was being half dragged down the hallway, further and further from the only thing in the universe that mattered to him. And the image burned into his mind, the first and last thing he remembered seeing on their first, secret anniversary, were her sad, beautiful, dazzling sapphire eyes.

God, what an opening! Daniel usually does romantic adventure storytelling, but this is his first foray into science fiction, and so far I. AM. DOWN!

I start reading the next line, a time jump back to the beginning of the day but am interrupted by a commotion up front. Eliza has raised her voice to a customer, who I can only assume was the woman who spent the whole morning “browsing.”

I try to block out what’s going on, it’s my break time after all, but am unwillingly dragged into the conversation.

The customer’s voice amplifies and asserts itself in a condescending, high-pitched tone. “I really don’t see what your issue is. The girl that was just here said everything used was half off!”

That’s insane! I never spoke to that woman all morning! And Eliza would have no idea about that, she spends most of her time in the office, and when she is up front, she’s completely in her own head. I slam the book shut and drop it onto the couch then make my way to the argument.

Eliza rebuttals her as I walk in through the hall, trying to sound polite, but the irritation cannot help but seep through her lips. “I’m sure you must have heard her wrong, she wouldn’t have told you that if it wasn’t true.”

“Well then maybe you just have incompetent workers here, because that’s what she said. And if your workers are telling your customers these things then you are obligated to honor them.”

At being called incompetent I freeze on the threshold of the storeroom. Already I’m charging in, heated, wanting to diffuse the situation but terrified of confrontation, but now she’s throwing insults. Later I’ll tell my friend that I was ready to fight this woman, just completely deck her, but in all honesty, I want to go back into the office and hide! My heart’s beating so fast and I can barely breathe, but I have to compose myself. Eliza is better at keeping her cool in situations like this but that doesn’t stop her from getting walked all over.

I begin to slowly approach the customer, worried I look like I’m about to attack her.

Eliza sees me out of the corner of her eye and tries to wordlessly tell me not to bother, but the woman notices Eliza’s focus has shifted and turns towards me.

“It was her,” squeals the woman with a shit-eating grin on her sagging face. The woman looks like she wandered out of a hospice ward, depending on excessive makeup and jewelry to hide her obvious age. Either that or she hasn’t smoked less than three packs a day for the last fifty years. Her eyes pierce through me like a hunter with its prey caught in their sight, and all I can think of is her use of “incompetent.”

“I just heard her say everything used was on sale,” the hag continues with a ring-crowded finger pointed at me.

Eliza tries to take the woman’s focus back. “Ma’am, this is a used bookstore.”

The woman turns back to Eliza and holds up a tall stack of books from the arts section. “Then WHY would you ring me up so much for this? She did say it was on sale.” The woman dropped the books back onto the counter with a large thud. The book at the top of the stack, a photo album of the history of Saratoga bounced from the stack and fell to the floor.

“Ex… excuse me?” I try to speak but the words are stuck in my throat. I clear it and step forward slowly. “Ma’am, I think you misheard me earlier?”

She turned and looked at me again with a look of surprise and disgust. “Are you calling me a liar, missy?”

I’m taken aback at the insane escalation she continues to bring to the storeroom. I want to shout and scream and swear at her, mostly because I know Eliza won’t. The most vulgar her vocabulary gets is “darn” or “shoot.” If she’s really in a fit, she’ll even use “golly.” I think maybe once she’s said “shit” when she thinks I’m not around.

“Silvy, go on back,” Eliza says to me. “You don’t have to deal with this.”

I wait for Eliza to scold that horrible woman for the nasty things she’s said to me, but nothing comes and the woman continues.

“I can’t believe this place. Is this how you treat all your customers?” She looks back and forth between Eliza and me. “I thought these run-down places were supposed to be nicer than this! Now she said these books were on sale, and I am NOT paying full price.”

I step forward again nervously, feeling like the woman will infect me with her nasty character if I get too close. My face is feeling red hot, and I know if she yells at me again I might start to cry, but the day will only end worse if people like her are allowed to treat others this way and I’m the one that lets it happen.

“What I said was… it’s… everything will be on sale on Friday.” The words come out without conviction, and her response comes swiftly. Exactly what I thought it would be.

“Friday?” She turns to Eliza again. “Well today’s Monday and it’s going to be on sale anyway, just ring it up!”

Eliza exhaled deeply in defeat, and sighed, “Yes ma’am, I’ll get that taken care of. Silvy, can you grab that book?” She pointed to the photo book on the floor.

I can’t believe her right now! After all that she just gives in? And on top of it, she lets the woman walk all over both of us, lets her directly insult me, then still wants me to help out this bitch?

My heart is beating heavily in frustration, but I do as she asks me.

The customer gives me another shit-eating grin as I place the book on the counter.

“Silvy, wait in the back, please. You’re still on break,” Eliza almost whispers the command to me.

I turn fast and walk swiftly back into the office, and I hear one more comment from the counter.

“And the receipt. Just in case, haha.”

One of life’s biggest questions: just how quickly can the perfect day go to absolute shit?

Before I have a chance to let my emotions take over me, Eliza is coming to the office.

“You really just let her treat you like that?” I ask her as she enters the room.

Eliza raises a hand to me gently as if to say ‘It’s okay.’ Then, “Take the rest of the day off. I’ll still pay you for the day, but you need to cool down.”

“I need to cool down? Ellie, she called me ‘incompetent’ and a ‘liar!’ And then you just gave into what she wanted and didn’t even put up a fight!” I can feel the tears welling up again. I should have just kept my head down and stayed in the room.

“Silvy, if this was your place, you could run it however you want to. But I’ve owned this for almost fifty years now. Those books were going to sell today, or never, regardless of a sale. Do you know how long they’ve been sitting on that shelf?”

I know she’s right that they wouldn’t have sold, but she still could have gone about it differently.

“Well about the… the umm… store integrity?” I wipe my eyes.

Eliza crosses her arms. “Silvia, what are you talking about?”

I breathe deep and compose myself, but for the life of me, I can’t think of anything else to say. I want to defend myself and call her out for not saying anything when the insults were said.

“Silvy, listen,” she sits down on the couch and invites me to join her. “Please?”

I sit next to her on the couch and she puts her arm around me like a friend. If this was any other employer, obviously I wouldn’t let that slide. But over the years Eliza and I have built up a decent relationship. She can be like a grandmother to me. She always knows when to act like a boss and when to be someone I can turn to for support.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to her about the names she called you. I really am. This store can’t afford to turn customers away though. After all these years, I think it’s finally time to call it. I didn’t want to tell you this just yet but… I’m closing up. After this year, it’s time to move on.”

I straighten myself up. Eliza brings her arm down and lays it in her lap.

“What?”

“Come on, this can’t be a huge surprise,” she says with a soft smile. “No, she shouldn’t have talked to you that way. But right now, we need to get what we can from this place before it closes. With some people, it’s really not worth it to argue if a sale is today or a week from today. I get it Silvy, you’re just trying to help, but you need to pick your battles a little better. Some things aren’t worth fighting over. Some people don’t deserve your attention.” She lifts my chin gently with her hand. “Some people are just assholes, sweetie,” she says with a laugh.

I can’t help but laugh too.

“You better watch your tongue,” I tell her, finally smiling again. “How many Hail Mary’s for that?”

“Oh, I’ll check this Sunday. Will I see you?”

“Maybe not this weekend, Ellie,” I let her down politely.

Thankfully she never takes my rejections to heart. I will go to church with her every once in a while, but with Black Friday coming up and the start of the Christmas season, it’ll be a busy weekend for everyone, and church to me just doesn’t scream “relaxing.”

“Well, that’s all right,” she says as she stands back up. “Any who, time to get back to work. And you best be getting on home.”

“Oh, Ellie I’m fine.”

I stand to walk back to the front with her, but she reaches down to grab Stargazing into her Eyes and plants it in my hands.

“Take the day. You can think about what I said tomorrow, but right now we both know how desperate you are to get reading. Just don’t stay up too late, I need you to make those signs for Black Friday in the morning.”

“Sure thing, Eliza.” With the book in hand I grab my hat, coat, Vera Bradley bag, and water bottle from the desk, then give Eliza a quick hug as I say goodbye.

In just a little while, I will detox all the negative energy from this day, and be comfy cozy in my apartment with a fantastic (I have no doubts in my mind) new book to get me through the night. Here’s to you, Mr. Cassidy!