Missing Pieces

The doctor said I have to go out today. I don’t know why she’s doing this to me. She doesn’t listen when I tell her I’m not ready. It would be better if she’d said I have to go “outside” today, because I’ve been doing my exercises. Yesterday I stood outside the door forever… well, five minutes, but it seemed like forever.

She’d show up, wearing her bright colors and cheery smile. I liked that. There wasn’t much about her I didn’t like, even when she was poking around in my head to find my hurts. It’s just that she’d been going too fast for me.

“Good morning, Effie! You ready to go for brunch?” She was her usual, ebullient self.

“Morning, Doctor.”

She pursed her lips. “Now, now. I know you only call me ‘Doctor’ when you’re unhappy with me.”

“Sorry, Julia,” I said, mostly under my breath.

“It’s okay, we’ll get through this together.” Julia gave me a big hug. “Now, let’s find your shoes and go out, yeah?”

I held her hand, trying hard not to squeeze with every step away from the safety of the front door. While I expected to be loaded into a car and whisked away, Julia led me down the block, our pace slow and steady.

“Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d start out small,” she said, “with brunch at the cafe down the street.”

“There’s no cafe down here,” I said. “I should know, I’ve lived in the same house for forty-four years.”

“They opened three years ago,” she said. “Where the used bookstore used to be.”

“No!” Tears came unbidden and I froze in place. “Simon loves... loved....”

Julia held me close while sobs wracked my body. Another piece gone. I wept for the loss of another piece of our history. Most of all, I wept in anger at myself for not visiting it while it still existed. I’d never see it again and it was my fault.

“I know it’s hard, honey, but you’re doing really well.” The doctor’s voice was gentle, but it wasn’t helping.

I pulled myself together. “Let’s just get this over with, Doctor, so I can go back home.”

“I’m back to being ‘Doctor’ again, eh?” She smiled at me. “Maybe, when I’m Julia again you can tell me about the bookstore?”

I grunted noncommittally and walked faster. The sooner we got there, the sooner I could get back home.

The front of the store looked the same, except for the painted window. There never had been a sign other than that. The script was the same swirling letters that had marked the bookstore, but now it was called The Reading Room Cafe.

Stepping in, I was overwhelmed with the familiar scent of old books. For a moment I thought I smelled Simon’s cologne. Not the way it smells in the jar that still sits on the vanity, but the way it smelled on him. I held back another crying jag and looked around.

The front of the store was now open, with a few small tables and a coffee bar. It looked like the stock room had been converted into a kitchen, but the back part of the store still had shelves and shelves of used books.

I didn’t wait for Julia’s okay, but let go of her hand and walked to the books. As I ran a hand along the spines, the tears came again. Simon and I used to play a game. We’d each walk along, running our hands along the spines without looking. One of us would say stop, and we’d exchange the books we were touching. The rule was that we had to read the book the other had landed on, regardless of how awful it was.

“Julia,” I called, “I need you.”

She looked worried. “What is it, Effie?”

I explained the game. If I had gone first, I’d want Simon to still have the chance to play the game with someone else. I was sure he’d understand.

“I’ll let you tell us when to stop,” she said, smiling at me as she ran her fingers along the spines of the books.

“Stop.” I pulled the book I was touching, The History of Whaling in the New World. I offered her the book. It was a hefty book, and judging from the title, was probably dry.

Julia traded books with me. I looked at the book, Drums of Never. This was one that I’d pulled for Simon ages ago, and we’d traded back in the next week. I knew it was a fantasy, and terribly written, but he said the plot had promise. The memory dropped me to my knees. For the second time in less than an hour I was openly weeping.

“We can put it back,” Julia said.

“No, no.” I sniffled and tried to pull myself together. “I made him read it once; now it’s mine.”

When I was back on my feet, Julia paid for the books and we went to one of the small tables. I looked over the brunch menu. “They have eggs Benedict. I want that.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have the same.” Julia sat close enough that I could hold her hand if I needed to.

I watched the waitress taking drinks to the only other occupied table. “Julia! Mimosas! Let’s get snockered!”

“Effigenia Alice McWhorter! I’m shocked.” Julia laughed, her bright smile matching her canary and vermillion dress.

“Please? At least one?”

“Just one,” she said. “I need to drive later, and I want to get you home in one piece.”

As we ate, I looked around, taking in the new shape of the place. There was a wall filled with pictures that looked like they’d been taken in the bookstore. When Julia was looking elsewhere, I snagged the receipt to see how much I’d have to tip her to cover the cost of my book. Even if it was terrible, I wouldn’t trade it back in. This had been Simon’s, even if only for a little while.

The receipt still said Second Page Books. The book that sat on my lap had been $3.99. A bargain to regain a little piece of him. I opened the book and scanned through the first couple pages. It was poorly written, but it gave me an excuse to grab the receipt to use as a bookmark. There was no way I would tell her that it was just because of the name on the receipt.

After our meal, I was feeling a little more comfortable being in the bookstore; cafe, I reminded myself. “Can we look at the pictures?” I asked.

“Sure.” Julia held my hand as we looked over the wall of photos. I spotted them first; three pictures of Simon. The first was both of us smiling at the camera. I remembered the original owner taking a picture of her “favorite customers.” She had a camera in her hands most days.

The other two were candid. One of him laughing at something, and one of us walking on opposite sides of the same row, fingers on the spines, playing the game. Our eyes were on each other, smiles of contentment on our faces.

The tears that came were happy, this time. Memories that I’d thought long forgotten welled up.

“You two were head over heels,” Julia said. “It’s obvious in the way you looked at each other.”

“We were. From the very beginning.”

“Will you be okay by yourself for a minute?” she asked.

I nodded, lost in the memory the photo evoked. It was too far away to make out the titles on the books, but I imagined that it might be the one I held clutched to my chest.

I was startled by a tap on my shoulder. What would have panicked me earlier in the morning just got my attention. I turned to face Julia who held out a small paper bag with the Second Page Books logo. “It’s the originals,” she said.

“What?”

“I talked to the new owner. He said those on display are extra prints he made of his grandmother’s photos.” She held the bag out. “These are the original prints of those three.”

I couldn’t speak. Instead, I took the bag and gave her a hug. “Thank you,” I managed to squeak out.

“Are you ready to go back home?” she asked.

“No.” My answer surprised me. “I found a piece of him; I’d like to see if I can find any more.” When I turned away from the pictures, I felt faint. The weight of the last five years of isolated loneliness, of missing all the pieces of him, had been lifted and my head wanted to fly away.

“We don’t have to do it all in one day.” Julia put a hand on my shoulder. “How about we go out again next Sunday? You pick the place.”

“The seafood place by the wharf?” I asked. “We used to go there once a month. He’d always reserve table seventeen. You can watch the seals from there.”

“We can do that.” Julia took my hand and led me out. “It’s kind of a long drive, are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Not alone, no.” I hugged the book closer. “But now I know he’s still here, at least a little.”