Histories

The bell on the door rang softly as what seemed like the last customers of the day left the store, smiling and with their arms piled high with books. Sage closed up the cash register and debated leaving early. It was Sunday, after all, and most people in her small town were already home, just about ready to take their dinners off the stove. She doubted anyone would run into the store so last-minute, but some unseen force kept her feet planted firmly on the floor below them. Her father had never once closed up before the time that was airbrushed on the front window, and it has been her promise to keep things running as usual.

    Defeatedly, she took the key from around her neck and locked the register before heading to the back of the store to take inventory. Although the place had been in her father’s possession for longer than the twenty-five years she’d been alive, Sage could never quite figure out its arrangement. Books were always being bought and sold too quickly to form anything truly permanent, but her father never misplaced so much as a page. Sage, however, was still very much in the process of learning. 

    She glanced at the many piles of books on the floor and decided that the pile with all the leather-bound covers looked most interesting. Wondering what stories could lie hidden in the pages of this particular group, Sage picked up the first book from the top of the stack and opened it to the first page. 

    She loved all books, but the ones that passed through the shop were especially her favourites. This was because although these books had the traditional words-on-pages appeal, they could also tell their own stories. Sage could open to any random page and the book would be more than happy to show her its history.

    Sometimes, the store’s gift felt a little like an invasion of privacy. She’d once accidentally stumbled upon the fact that Mrs. Anderson was secretly a hoarder after she’d received a shipment of books from her house. The image of boxes and clutter strewn about was nearly enough for her to throw the book away in disgust. 

    However, Sage was more often able to use her knowledge for good. Images of smiling faces or crinkled noses helped her to make near-perfect recommendations to customers, or to know which books to put showcase in the front display. She had also noted that parents would occasionally come in to thank her for giving their children a love of reading. She remembered one girl in particular, Ella, who had wandered in as a troublemaker two years ago. Ella was now set to graduate high school the next year, and become an English major. 

    Currently, the book in Sage’s hands held a lot of promise. It looked old, worn, and expensive – the perfect recipe for a good story. Her eyes wandered across the page, and an image slowly started to form.

    When the picture became clear enough to discern, it appeared quite dull. There was nothing to see, except for an old wooden shelf; the book had never once been read. Disappointed, Sage closed it up and placed it next to the pile. She decided that the other books just like it were probably a waste of time as well. Looking around the room, she searched for a better pile, when suddenly the bells on the front door chimed.

    There was a sound of the door closing, followed by creaky footsteps on the hardwood. “Hello?” called a voice from the front of the store.

    Remembering the store was still open, Sage hurried in the direction of the voice, trying not to knock anything over as she went. Eventually the front door appeared in her periphery. Upon a second glance, she was surprised to see an older woman struggling to carry a box. Sage rushed over to her aid.

    “Do you need help?” she asked.

    “I think I’m alright,” answered the woman. “It’s only a few more steps, anyhow.”

    Sage felt slightly unsure of the woman’s confidence and debated going over there to help anyway. “You can set it down by the desk,” she said, deciding her advice was a decent compromise. 

    The woman slowly trudged to the front desk and carefully lowered the box to the floor. Surprisingly, she didn’t look the least bit tired from her ordeal.

    “So, how many have you brought today?” asked Sage, walking around to the other side.

    “Twenty-five,” said the woman. “All paperbacks, too, and nothing special.”

    “I can give you forty even for it,” said Sage.

    “Well, that sounds about fair.”

    After writing down the total on the notepad beside her, Sage motioned to unlock the cash register when one of the books’ covers caught her eye. She froze up for a moment before choosing to ignore the thought. Instead of dwelling on the strangeness of her situation, Sage handed the woman her money and attempted to move on.

    “Thank you,” said the woman while turning to exit the store.

    “Wait,” exclaimed Sage before she could stop herself.

    The woman turned back around. 

    “Do you mind me asking where you got some of these books?” Sage said cautiously. 

    The woman smiled. “Yard sales, and around my house mostly. Although a few were from a store just like this. Are you planning on growing your collection?”

    “Something like that,” answered Sage.”Have a nice day.”

    When she knew the woman was far from the entrance, Sage took hold of the book that had startled her. It was none other than The Road in the Sky, a book she had loved as a child. She hadn’t seen an edition like this in years – not since she had lost her own copy.

    Carefully, she opened the book and flipped through the pages, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. It reminded her of a simpler time, one in which she did not feel so alone. Once, this book had been her everything, along with her father. Now she only had the chance to remedy one of these things. 

    Overtaken with curiosity and a wish to become younger again, Sage stopped flipping at one of the middle pages and settled her mind, allowing herself to peer into the book’s history. Colors swirled into her vision, and she swore she could hear laughter. When the scene solidified, Sage was confused at her current situation. She found that, for once, she did not have an outsider’s view on the story.

    She was living it, looking through the eyes of the book’s previous owner. All the more shocking, Sage felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. She felt like she had seen the setting before, somewhere in a distant memory, in another life.

    Then, the realization hit at full force. Sage suddenly knew exactly where she was – in the vintage store a few towns over. It had been over ten years since she’d been there, but it was undoubtedly the place. She saw old dresses, antique furniture, and the full bookshelf in the back.

    And her father’s smiling face.

    The scene then changed, and she was in her childhood room. Struggling to comprehend, Sage felt herself dancing around the fairly large space, hearing an old record play in the background. She thought she could just make out the sound of her father’s voice telling her to do her homework. Closing her eyes, voluntarily this time, she tried to take in every detail of the moment.

    However, it didn’t last for long, because when she opened them again, she was somewhere entirely different. Fluorescent lighting and a sterile smell greeted her, with no soundtrack save for a few subdued whispers. Sage hated the hospital, and wished the book hadn’t brought her there. She could still feel the dried tears on her cheeks. Silently persuading the book to take her away, she closed her eyes again.

    When she finally felt darkness wash over her eyelids, Sage cautiously looked up. The room was dimly lit and empty with the exception of the bookshelves. This place was more than familiar, but the memory was not. It took her a minute to register that this wasn’t her memory at all. She could see her father, just as he was three years ago, staring at the shelves in contemplation.

    Eventually, he reached up and grabbed the copy of The Road in the Sky. Sage had never realized it was here all those years without it. Her father flipped through the pages before placing it in the front display. 

    “Sage’s favourite book,” he mumbled to himself, walking over to the cash register. “I know that by the time this comes back, she’ll have everything all figured out. And then she can see me here, smiling, and know she’s earned it.”

    He laughed a little before taking off the chain around his neck – the one that held her key. Instead of locking the register, he just set it down on the desktop and scribbled something on a piece of paper next to it. 

    Sage’s breath hitched. She realized she knew exactly what day this was, or rather, she knew what the day after would entail. This moment was bittersweet; knowing she’d made him proud gave her a sense of accomplishment, but being aware of his fate made it hard to relish.

    The corners of her vision began to blur and the scene faded away to reveal the store in its current state. Sage closed up the book and hugged it tightly to her chest. Three years had gone by since she’d last seen him, but there he had been, peaceful and smiling. She felt like the distance between them was no longer so vast. 

    Sage took one more look at the front cover before carefully tucking it into a desk drawer. She took the key from around her neck and put it into the lock on the drawer. Though she had never used the key like this before, she was surprised to learn it fit perfectly, as if she knew it was meant to be there all along.