Love's Manual

TW: Contains mild bad language.

What’s so special about a damn book? That thought had been spinning around my head for the past two weeks. Whenever it seemed willing to leave, Emily’s tears flooded it right back into place. After a long day of dragging from pawnshop to pawnshop, it was dug in deeper than ever. Still, my quest would end here, one way or another.

I looked up at the sign. Cody’s Quick Cash. The last pawnshop in town, located right in the middle of the slimiest, most run-down neighbourhood.

Against my better judgement, I pushed open the door. Inside, the place was pretty much as I expected. A few shelving units took up most of the space; each filled to the brim with a collection of goods that could only charitably be described as merchandise. Old TVs, a couple of outdated games consoles, even a VHS player for some reason. Definitely no books. Muttering a curse, I walked to the back of the store, where Cody, a middle-aged, balding man with a beer belly and a love for chunky golden jewellery, sat behind a counter.

‘Hey pal, what can I do you for?’ he said.

‘I’m looking for a book.’

He frowned. ‘Books? We don’t got many of those. There might be a few in the bargain bins.’ He waved a hand towards a row of black trash cans, all overflowing with junk that made the store’s other products look like mink coats and Cuban cigars.

I shook my head. ‘The book I’m looking for is quite distinctive. You’d know if you had it. It’s an old copy of Roald Dahl’s Matilda. Really old. Pages barely holding together, that sort of thing.’

Cody stroked his chin. ‘Oh yeah. I think I seen that.’

Thank God, I thought. ‘Where is it?’

‘Don’t have it no more. I sold it this morning.’

Just like that, my hopes were shattered. I should have come here first. I should’ve known this was precisely the sort of dump Derek would come to. Still, all was not lost. At least I had a trail now.

‘Who bought it?’ I asked. ‘Where can I find them?’

‘Can’t tell you that. Wouldn’t be professional,’ Cody said, picking a lump of wax from his ear and smearing it on the counter.

Fighting hard to suppress my disgust, I locked eyes with him. ‘Please. This is really important.’

Cody looked me up and down, licking his lips. ‘What’s it worth to you?’

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly a rich man. My credit cards are dangerously close to being maxed out, and let’s just say that if debtors’ prisons were still a thing, I’d have been halfway to Mexico. Still, for this part of town, my annual income was the rough equivalent of a king’s ransom. A man in Cody’s line of work could tell as much from my clothes, shoes, and even the way I spoke. Hell, he probably already had a number in his head. I sighed. I wouldn’t get out of there without lightening my pockets.

Taking out my wallet, I slapped a twenty on the counter.

Cody laughed. ‘Buddy, he better get some friends real fast, else the only directions I’m giving you are to the front door.’

I put down another note. Then another, and another. After the fifth note, I’d had enough. ‘That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.’

‘Doesn’t seem like a lot, given how important you say this book is…’

I moved to sweep the notes back into my wallet, but Cody reached out with a clammy hand and grabbed my wrist. ‘Woah, slow down. Alright, alright, I’ll tell you.’

Tearing off a sheet of paper from a notepad, Cody scribbled an address. ‘This is the guy. Don’t reckon you’ll have much luck, though. He was real keen to buy that book.’

I took the note, and my heart sank. The name, Clive Becksdale, meant nothing to me. But the address… that would be a problem. It was in Havisham’s Heights. The wealthiest part of town. Dusty old mansions, shaded boulevards, that sort of thing. I’d been hoping some bum had bought the book, someone who wouldn’t know what they had. No such luck.

As I muttered my thanks to Cody and left the store, I walked straight into a skinny man on his way in. It was Derek, my wife’s brother, holding a plastic bag filled with little trinkets. I had a pretty good idea where those had come from.

The moment he recognised me, his face paled. ‘Eddie. Er, hi.’ He must have noticed the thunderous expression I wore, and my clenched fists; for the next second, he started stumbling backwards. ‘If you hit me, I’ll sue you. I’m warning you. I’ll do it.’

‘I’m not going to hit you, Derek,’ I said, though I dearly wanted to. ‘I will be taking that bag, though.’

Derek clutched the bag to his chest. ‘What? No. This is mine.’

‘It’s from your father’s house, right?’ I said.

‘No,’ he replied. For a scheming little sneak, he always was a terrible liar.

I took a step towards him. ‘Derek…’

‘I’ll challenge the will,’ he blurted out. ‘I’ll tie it all up in court. You won’t see the money for years.’

I laughed. ‘You won’t tie up shit. The estate is done. It’s finished. You aren’t a rival claimant. You’re a thief.’

‘Dad gave me this stuff before he died,’ he insisted.

‘We both know that’s not true.’

‘Well… well, you can’t prove otherwise.’

I gave him my broadest crocodile smile. ‘No. I can’t. But I can testify at your custody appeal next month. I could tell the judge exactly what a terrible influence you’ve been on my kids.’

Derek’s eyes widened. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Oh, I would. So, if you want to see your kids again before they turn 18, here’s what’s going to happen. Tomorrow, you’re going to come to my house, and you’re going to bring that bag and anything else you took with you. You’ll give them to Emily, you’ll apologise, and then you’ll get out of our sight.’

‘Okay,’ he said, his shoulders slumping.

‘Good.’ Still smiling, I shook my head. ‘You better pray I get this book back. Otherwise, your apology is not going to go down well. And Emily’s been learning karate.’

Leaving Derek trembling, I walked away and hopped into my car, Bonnie, a red 1961 Ford Thunderbird. She was a beauty. The only good thing about spending my Saturday cruising around town is that I got to do it in Bonnie. That car was the last link to my bachelor days, the last remnant of a well-spent youth. I loved it so much that Emily used to call it her rival, the second woman in my life. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not gonna say Bonnie was perfect. She belched out smoke like a wildfire after a rainstorm, and there was about a 50:50 chance I’d have to give her a running start just to get her engine running. But I knew what I was doing. A little feathering on the clutch, just the right amount of gas, and soon she’d be purring like a pussycat. Sitting in Bonnie and feeling the gentle vibration of her engine beneath me was the only thing that kept me going that day. 

After twenty minutes or so, I arrived at Becksdale’s house, a big Tudor-style with a delicately manicured lawn and well-kept flowerbeds. Parking outside, I walked up the cobbled path and knocked on the front door. An older man, perhaps in his late fifties, opened it. He wore a tweed jacket and a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.

‘Hi, are you Clive Becksdale,’ I said.

‘I am. And who might you be?’

‘My name’s Eddie.’ I ran my hand through my hair and gave him a sheepish grin. ‘I wanted to talk to you about a book you just bought. Matilda.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘You the previous owner? I should warn you, legally, that book’s mine now.’

‘I know, I know. Actually, I wanted to buy it back.’

Becksdale’s mouth broadened into a smile. ‘Well, everything’s for sale at the right price. How much are you offering?’

‘How much did you pay for it at the pawnshop?’ I said.

‘Hah. About twenty bucks. That idiot had no idea how much this thing’s worth.’

I winced. That attitude was exactly what I’d been worried about. ‘How about I give you fifty? That’s more than double your money.’

Becksdale snorted. ‘You’ll have to do much better than that. This thing’s gonna be a great talking point at dinner parties.’

I sighed. ‘How much do you want.’

‘Ten thousand dollars.’

My jaw dropped. ‘Ten thousand!? Are you crazy? I don’t have that kind of money lying around.’

Becksdale made to close the door. ‘Then I guess we have nothing more to talk about.’

I jammed my foot into the doorway. ‘Please, sir. That book’s really important to me, to my wife, Emily. It was her favourite story growing up. Her late father used to read it to her every night. He said that Emily was just like Matilda. It gave her the confidence to become the woman she is today. I really, really want to get it back for her.’

Becksdale nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, that’s a heartwarming story, son. But if it means so much to her, why’d she pawn it?’.

‘She didn’t. Her asshole brother swiped it before the estate was finalised, along with anything else he could carry, and sold it so he could invest in crypto.’

‘How’d that go for him?’ Becksdale asked.

‘He lost all his money, his wife left him, and now he only gets to see his kids on weekends.’

Becksdale laughed. ‘Alright, I’ll tell you what, since it means so much to you, I’ll give you a special price on the book.’

I felt like I could fly. ‘You will?’

‘Sure. How’s twenty thousand dollars sound?’

I frowned. ‘But that’s more than before.’

Becksdale grinned. ‘Right you are. Let me give you a little lesson on supply and demand. Right now, you’ve got a lot of demand, and I’m the only one with any supply. That means I can name whatever price I want.’

‘You son of a bitch. You don’t need the money. You live in a place like this, for Christ’s sake.’

Becksdale laughed. ‘How do you think I got the money to buy this place? It sure as hell wasn’t by being charitable. Any of my ex-wives could tell you that. Look, if the book means that much to you, you’ll find the money.’

I’m not a violent man, but at that moment, a big part of me wanted to punch that smug son of a right in his face. I didn’t, though. That would have made me worse than Derek. Instead, I turned away and trudged back to my car. What else could I do? I didn’t have ten grand. I certainly didn’t have twenty grand. No, Emily would just have to live without her book. After all, it was only ink, glue and paper.

As I opened Bonnie’s door, Becksdale called out to me. ‘Hold on a minute, that’s your car?’ He strolled over, pawing at the bodywork and letting out a low whistle. ‘A Thunderbird. Real nice model. Great condition, too. You’ve been taking care of it. That’s hard to find these days.’

He looked at me. ‘Tell you what. I’ll trade you. You give me the car, and I’ll give you the book.’

I baulked. I couldn’t sell Bonnie. She was more than just a car. She was-

And then I knew. I finally understood what was so special about that book. It wasn’t just ink, glue, and paper, in the same way Bonnie wasn’t just a collection of metal and leather. It was a portal made of memories. A gateway to a world where Emily was still just a little girl, safe in her daddy’s arms.

I had a choice to make.

***

A bit of me died when I gave Becksdale the keys to Bonnie. But that’s okay. I knew it would be worth it. On the cab ride home, I consoled myself by picturing old Becksdale trying to get Bonnie started. With a bit of luck, she’d backfire and give the old miser a heart attack.

As I walked up the drive, a scrap of paper fell out of the book. On it, in his scratchy handwriting, Emily’s father had written:

Emily. Always remember Miss Honey’s greatest words, “If you are good, life is good.” Until we meet again in that giant peach in the sky, all my love, Dad.

That note told me for certain that I’d made the right decision. 

Since the kids were at sleepovers, I knew exactly where Emily would be. Sure enough, I found her curled up in her favourite armchair, the one her dad bought her a few years back, nursing a mug of hot cocoa, her dad’s favourite drink.

When she saw me, she smiled, though her red-rimmed eyes told me that she’d been crying again. ‘Where have you been?’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking for you all day.’

‘Well, sweetheart, I have a surprise for you.’ I took the battered old book from behind my back and held it out towards her.

Her eyes widened. ‘Is that…?’

I grinned. ‘It sure is.’ The next thing I knew, her arms were wrapped around me, squeezing so hard I thought she might crack a rib. She pulled back, and I saw sweet tears of joy brimming in her big blue eyes. ‘I love you.’ She kissed me more deeply than she ever had before.

When she finally stopped to take a breath, she said, ‘I actually got you a present too.’

‘Me? Why?’

‘Because I know I haven’t been easy to be with lately. I wanted to get you something to show how much I appreciate you. So, I used my inheritance money to get you something.’

‘Sweetheart, you didn’t have to do that, I said.’

‘I know that. I wanted to. It’s in the garage.’

Smiling, I strolled outside, swung open the garage door and saw a shining cast iron contraption. A brand new engine. The perfect fit for Bonnie.

Part of me wanted to scream. Part of me wanted to cry. But the biggest part of me, the part I listened to, wanted to go back inside and kiss my wonderful wife.