Page 20 of It’s Me They Follow

T he Shopkeeper was an hour late for her writers’ group.

Her walk to class was sweaty and lonely without ME.

She hadn’t liked the tone of her sister’s reply.

She’d also forgotten deodorant but not the envelope ME had given her as he’d left for good while saying they were going on another date.

The Good Doctor could help , she hoped. She’d opened all the other envelopes from ME without a problem.

But for some reason, now she wasn’t so brave.

It was like hanging suspended from a wall by her throat; whenever she looked at the envelope, she couldn’t breathe.

She finally realized, after trying to ignore it for days, that she couldn’t do this on her own.

All morning, she fought with herself about going back to class.

She was slightly embarrassed and slightly perturbed.

She wasn’t convinced The Good Doctor was helping her much, but if The Good Doctor helped her today, she promised she’d believe.

Plus, The Shopkeeper hadn’t left the bookshop much all week; she needed fresh air. That was the point of the class. s“Oh, what the heck, do whatever it takes,” she’d chanted at herself in the mirror that morning.

But the class was silent when she walked in.

No one was writing. They were on their phones—everyone except the one guy in the corner, who coughed, sneezed, moaned, laughed, and then coughed again until she asked him with a pointed finger, “Are you okay?” It was “asthma,” he explained with a cough, cough, cough.

She didn’t like his writing and never bothered to learn his name.

It was warm for a January day. As she looked for a seat, she realized there was no writing prompt on the board; there was no red wine being poured, no friendly word banter between word friends. Rose wasn’t reading. No Rocky song. If Rose wasn’t reading, something had to be wrong.

Ray waved The Shopkeeper to a seat next to Rose, who wore all white, like a ghost. She had a white rose in her hair, a white rose on her pen, and a long-sleeve white sweaterdress—she sat unnecessarily close to Lil Charlie, who looked more like a man than a boy this week.

The coughing guy kept on.

“Another experiment?” The Shopkeeper whispered to Ray, trying to understand what everyone was doing sitting around.

She pulled out her chair and remembered she’d forgotten deodorant.

She tried to keep her arms close to her body so he wouldn’t catch a whiff.

Too late. She placed the envelope down in front of herself on the table. “Where is she?” she asked.

“Trying to find out now,” Ray replied, not looking up from his phone.

“Find out what?” The Shopkeeper asked Ray. No one used a phone during writers’ group.

“I read something somewhere,” Lil Charlie interrupted.

“‘Something somewhere’ is pretty vague,” said Ray.

“I read something somewhere about a gifted doctor,” Lil Charlie said, wiping his neck with his bandana. “A gifted doctor,” he repeated, and then trailed off, looking at his phone.

“There are a gazillion gifted doctors in Philadelphia. Cough, cough, cough. Did it say a name?” The coughing guy refused to cover his mouth.

The Shopkeeper shot him a look. “Cover, please?”

“I saw an article that said ‘foremost doctor,’” Lil Charlie said.

“An article about her?” The Shopkeeper pointed at the place where The Good Doctor usually stood. She thought maybe The Good Doctor had been exposed as a fraud. “I knew she couldn’t be that good.”

The group looked at The Shopkeeper with a mix of shock and pity.

How dare she mock The Good Doctor at a time like this?

She was about to apologize when Lil Charlie said, “You don’t love anyone, do you?

” and waved her off. I love people , she tried to convince herself.

I love ... and stayed there a minute, trying to think of someone.

It made her miss ME. I love ME , she thought.

Kind of. She tried to think of who else, but no one else came to mind.

The Shopkeeper loved her sister and her grandmother, but it took her too long to think of them.

The others went back to searching their phones. The coughing continued. The thought of spittle landing on her skin was like a scratched chalkboard. The more she moved, the more her odor traveled, making the room less inhabitable—and everyone more irritable.

“Well, she’s not here yet,” said Rose. She turned up her nose at The Shopkeeper. “Would you sit still?” she scolded.

“The school site says— cough, cough, cough —if a professor doesn’t show— cough, cough, cough —after the first thirty minutes— cough, cough, cough —then the class is dismissed,” said the coughing man.

The Shopkeeper didn’t want class to be dismissed.

She needed The Good Doctor. She only had two weeks before her shop was supposed to open.

The envelope from ME was like a telltale heart beating in front of her.

It was wrinkled from the oppression of her tight grip. Maybe it held the key to her destiny.

“We don’t want class to be dismissed. We want answers,” Ray said, rubbing his forehead.

The Shopkeeper agreed. Her head ping-ponged back and forth from person to person. She thought they were purposefully leaving her out. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

No one answered.

“Rumor is, The Good Doctor...” Lil Charlie started to explain.

“Is a fraud.” The Shopkeeper finished his sentence too soon. “I hope not.” She tried to soften her words after everyone looked at her in shock.

He rolled his eyes at The Shopkeeper and changed the subject. “Her daughter works across the street at the bookstore. Anybody know her?”

The teenybopper? The Shopkeeper thought. Was she The Good Doctor’s daughter? It was funny; she could immediately see the resemblance. She kinda knew the teenybopper, but not well.

She sighed. “Ask her what?” The Shopkeeper tried again.

“You think her daughter’s— cough, cough, cough —at work?”

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about all this.” Rose sprayed a musky perfume in The Shopkeeper’s direction, which, for some reason, made the group come undone.

“She’s never late.”

“First time for everything.”

“It’s been an hour.”

“Wouldn’t the university notify us?”

“Not if no one notified them.”

“The Good Doctor was pretty famous. Are you telling me nothing about THIS is posted online?”

“What is THIS?” The Shopkeeper asked, louder.

“I’m telling you...” Rose started.

“Tell me.”

“Wait,” Ray replied.

“Wait for what?” The Shopkeeper asked.

“Something just posted on— cough, cough, cough —on the university website. Cough, cough, cough. ‘Friends and family...’” He went silent, reading to himself. His cough sounded far worse than asthma.

“‘We are deeply saddened to share the news... of our loss. She p-p-passed a-away,’” he stuttered. “‘She passed away on January 15 in Philadelphia. She was born on... A celebration of life will be held later this month.’”

Everyone spoke over one another.

“‘Mysterious illness.’”

Rose added, “‘She leaves behind her adoring son...’” But she couldn’t finish. Lil Charlie put his hand on her knee.

Her adoring son, ME , The Shopkeeper thought she heard the coughing man say. ME?

Ray sat back, speechless.

“I felt it,” said Rose. The Shopkeeper wished she could hug her friend.

She stared at the crinkled envelope that she had been carrying around for days and realized The Good Doctor was never coming back.

Tomorrow is not promised , her grandmother used to say.

Another person I’ll never touch. Another person who’ll never touch me , The Shopkeeper thought.

Which made her think of ME. The one person she wanted to hold most in that moment.

His mother had a mysterious illness too.

Was something going around? What if it was the same disease?

She pictured his solemn face from the night before.

What if ME’s mom was The Good Doctor? They did have the same cheekbones.

The idea gripped her and refused to let go.

She felt foolish for thinking it, then foolish for not thinking of it sooner.

ME was The Good Doctor’s son. Had they been setting her up this whole time?

Or was it a coincidence? She was still being challenged by The Good Doctor and intrigued by ME—she smiled to herself, connecting the dots from the date to the envelope, but then she hit the table.

What if ME had known her all along? What if his mom gave him her work?

This was The Good Doctor’s best activity yet—matchmaker.

The Shopkeeper couldn’t decide whether to be thankful or pissed.

The room reeked of sweat and sadness.

The guy coughing in the corner couldn’t catch his breath.

“COVER YOUR MOUTH!” She didn’t mean to snap at him like that, but she did, considering the illness going around.

Everyone got silent. They stared at her a second too long and then went back to their phones.

The Shopkeeper finally understood ME and why he had to leave.

Let the dead bury the dead , her grandmother used to say.

It’s hard to stay when it’s best you leave.

The classroom felt like a coffin. She’d never get healed sitting in a contaminated box.

ME had broken free. Though there’s a difference between running to freedom and running away from it— either is better than drowning , she thought.

The Shopkeeper couldn’t stand it. The room was unbearable without The Good Doctor.

And she couldn’t get any sadder than she already was.

“She wasn’t a quack,” The Shopkeeper declared, as though someone had asked. She stood up from the table while the others sunk deeper into their phones. “Maybe a genius. But she was still just a human. And now she’s gone. So I am out.”

And because the room was a hundred degrees. And because they were covered in spittle. And because they needed a leader, they all got up one by one and followed her out the door.

“It’s ME they follow,” Ms. Harriett whispered in The Shopkeeper’s ear as she made her way down the hallway.

“It’s ME they follow,” The Shopkeeper agreed.

And she was going to find ME if it was the last thing she did.