Page 11 of The Now in Forever

TEN YEARS AGO

I check my texts behind the counter. One says:

Grandma: Have fun, Hattie Bear. I hope your first day is going well. Love you. -G

The second says:

Robin: Call me if you can! I need deets. If not, I’ll just see you tonight.

Excitement fizzes in my chest. I’m going to hang out with Ed tonight.

Quickly, I shove my phone back into my bag as another customer enters the store—salt and pepper hair with a full beard, red hipster glasses, and a scowl on his face. He approaches the counter with a book and receipt in hand. I push my shoulders back. Smile widely. “Hi. How can I help you?”

Ed weaves behind the counter, sticking price tags on some Jane Austen action figures. The customer does not return my smile. “I need a refund for this book. I’ll take cash.”

“Oh, um…”

Ed steps up. “Do you have the receipt?”

“Right here.” The customer hands a yellowed receipt on top of a clearly used book to Ed.

He squints at the fine print on the bottom of the paper. “It’s past the thirty-day return window. ”

Then he moves the receipt to uncover the book. “ Kafka on the Shore . Why do you want to return it?”

“It’s gibberish.”

Ed barks out a laugh. “Gibberish?”

The customer puffs out his chest, his plaid shirt stretching with the motion. “Yes. Complete and utter garbage. Most of it doesn’t make any sense at all, and the parts that do are boring as hell.”

Ed furiously flips the pages, shaking his head as the man keeps going.

“Plus, they’re always drinking milk. Who the fuck drinks milk? It got to a point in the novel where I decided I’d rather gnaw off my own leg than keep reading. And I’m a vegan.”

“Didn’t you return Virgin Suicides two months ago? This is not a library. Did you even give it a fair shot? Really? Here, listen.” Ed stops on a page and starts reading. “ Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction, but the sandstorm chases you .”

The customer rolls his eyes, the gesture magnified by his thick glasses. “Look, dude?—”

“It’s gorgeous. A modern masterpiece. Just listen.” Ed reads louder as he hops up to standing on the counter, his voice rich and full of something. It’s like a deep sadness. His foot brushes against the cup of small frogs, and they skitter to the ground like some kind of plastic plague.

The customer has his arms crossed, a scowl on his face.

I’ve read this book, these words, before but never felt the power of them. It’s like witnessing the storm he’s talking about, both breathtaking and terrifying.

“ This storm is you …”

The sidewalk draws my attention, a shadow moving ever closer. I try to catch Ed’s eye, but he’s so focused on the book. He’s lost in the prose.

“… walk through it, step by step .”

Kat comes in, but Ed doesn’t hear her footsteps on the hardwood floor, or if he does, he doesn’t look up. It’s like watching a tornado rip the roof off a house. I should look away. I should find something to do, but I can’t.

Kat slow claps—that gets Ed’s attention. He looks at her, his face going almost green as he hops off the counter. She clears her throat and points to the hipster. “Hattie, give this man a full refund.”

I stare at the register completely baffled how to do that but sensing now is not the time to ask.

“Ed, pick those up and then come with me to my office.”

Scooping the frogs back into the cup, Ed gives me a weary smile. “It was nice knowing ya.”

He marches in the direction of the office.

Giving the man cash back, I put the receipt in the register to remind myself to ask someone how to ring it in.

An eternity passes. I straighten the books on the table.

I finish putting price tags on the Jane Austen dolls.

Finally, Ed comes out of the back, skateboard in hand.

I want to ask if we’re still meeting tonight, but I don’t want to be insensitive.

He heads straight for the door, puts his skateboard down and, right before he steps on it, looks my way, and we lock eyes for the briefest moment.

It almost looks like he winks, but it could be the early evening sun shining through the window, catching his eye.

Then he steps on the board, skating out of the store and down the sidewalk.