Page 9 of The Now in Forever

TEN YEARS AGO

A fter shelving more books, I head back to the counter, and Ed is chatting with a young guy with shoulder-length bleached hair. They clasp hands in that dude way that makes it seem like their hands are hugging rather than a shake. “See you there.”

“You know it.”

Ed turns his green eyes on me. “What are you doing later?”

“Today?”

He laughs. “Yeah.”

“I’m not sure.”

“My friends are having a little thing for me… It’s at the beach. Anyway, do you want to come? You have your bike, right? We could ride together; there’s a paved path that’ll take us all the way there.”

I nod but keep my lips tightly closed. If I open it, the butterflies that are wildly flapping in my stomach may fly right out of my mouth.We arrange to meet at the park after I’m off work.

Ed heads into the Westerns section, a stack of books in his hands.

I send two quick texts under the counter. The first to Grandma:

Me: I’m going to sleep over at Robin’s tonight. :)

And the second to Robin:

Me: Met a cute boy. He asked me out tonight, but I think it’s a friend thing. Can I sleep at your place ?

Then I put my phone back in my bag. Kat comes out of the back and lets me know she has to run some errands, saying she’ll be back in a bit. She props the doors open when she leaves. The cool breeze on my warm skin is refreshing.

Taking a stack of books, I fumble around trying to find the right places to put them. I’m about to put away the last book in my pile, an astrology book in the New Age section, when a crocodile puppet pops out from around the corner of the shelf, sending my heart to my throat.

“What’s your sign?” Ed asks in a Muppet voice, making it look like the crocodile is talking.

“Libra.”

He comes out from around the corner. “Libra, huh? I’m a Pisces.”

I open the book in my hand and flip to Pisces. “Let’s see… You are empathetic?—”

“Debatable.”

“Creative—”

“Hopefully.”

“Generous—”

“On a good day.”

“Idealistic.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Lazy, closed-off, moody?—”

“There I am. Wow, these books are uncanny. So accurate.”His eyes widen in exaggerated shock.

I laugh.

“What’s it say about you?” He takes the book from my hand, and our fingers brush the slightest bit as he does. It’s like his skin is a live wire. It sends a shock straight to my core. I pull up my knee socks that haven’t slipped at all, just for something to do.

He smiles, a slow, sexy grin that intensifies the electricity running through me. I’m suddenly hyper aware that we’re alone in the store together. “You’re romantic…”

My cheeks burn, and I hope they aren’t as pink as they feel.

“Charming, artistic, diplomatic, good listener. ”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Indecisive, vain, manipulative, and you hate conflict.”

The word conflict immediately brings my thoughts to my parents.

It’s not wrong. I do hate conflict, and so do they.

Which is why they lived for years being miserable together.

Until I graduated. They didn’t want me to go through high school with divorced parents.

So, they waited until the day after graduation and then told me they were splitting.

They don’t love each other anymore, haven’t for a long time.

My dad reconnected with his high school girlfriend on Facebook—his true soul mate.

I immediately deleted all my social media.

It’s all fake anyway, just like my parents’ marriage was.

They lived a lie for years so they didn’t have to confront the truth or at least until graduation.

Ed’s looking at me with soft eyes. “Hey…”

He throws the book over his shoulder like it’s a wadded-up piece of paper. “It’s just a silly book. It doesn’t know you.”

I laugh and can’t quite believe he just threw a book. Crossing the store quickly, I kneel on the hardwood floor to pick it up. “I’m not sure I buy all the astrology stuff.”

“Me either.” He pulls out another book off the shelf. “I’m much more into palm reading. Far more accurate science.” His smile is infectious. “Come on.”

He carries the book back toward the counter, and I follow on butterfly wings.

Ed opens the palm-reading book on the counter and uses the pen cup to keep the side that keeps curling closed open.

He reads for a minute. “Uh-huh, okay. Yes. Let me see your hand.”

Suddenly, there’s concrete in my throat. I swallow hard to try to get it down, but it’s still there. I offer my hand, and Ed takes it in his. He squints, moving his face extremely close to my palm, his breath hot on my hand.

He moves his face back and takes his finger, softly tracing the line from my thumb to the base of my palm.

Heat rushes straight to my thighs, and my cheeks warm at his touch, so light it almost tickles.

I want to pull away, and I want to lean into the feeling at the same time.

I want to snap the air like a cat that’s had too many pets.

“Hmm. I think you have water hands, but they could be air.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, your fingers are spindly like air hands?—”

“Spindly? Who you calling spindly?”

He smiles. “But they’re soft and narrow like water. Let’s say they’re water.” He consults the book again and reads aloud. “You are fueled by compassion and imagination. You’re also extremely sensitive, and your feelings are easily hurt.”

I frown, embarrassed how shockingly accurate that all is.

Ever since I was a kid, my mom always said, You’re so sensitive, Hattie.

Lighten up . Like my feelings were heavy.

She was right—they were—but telling me I should feel them less just made me lonely and anxious.

So, when I was sad about something, not only was I sad, I was also worried that I was being too sad.

Ed traces a line near the base of my fingers. “This is your heart line. It tells about your relationships, both romantic and friendship.”

I hold my breath, waiting to hear what my palm reveals about my love life.

“Since it starts below your index finger, you are content in your relationships and tend to have long, lasting ones.”

“That’s true of my friends.”

“But not your boyfriends?”

My face is on fire. “I haven’t had a serious boyfriend.”

“You haven’t?”

I shake my head.

“No fella back in…where again?”

“Montana—Helena. No. I mean…there was this one guy, Brandon…but he moved so…We kept dating for a while. We were in love. We promised to text and call all the time, but it turned into me texting him, waiting for a reply.”

“That’s shitty.”

I shrug, wanting it to seem lighter than it felt. “We were young. ”

Ed moves on, tracing another line so delicately, it brings me back to the bookstore.

“This is your lifeline. It’s a deep groove, suggesting that you have full rich experiences.”

I think I have full experiences. I try to live in the moment.

Once, I read that living in the present is the key to true happiness.

I won’t bore you with how many times I have to remind myself of this while I’m ruminating on some mundane detail from the past—something everyone else has long forgotten that I’m still running circles around in my head.

Like the boy who never texted me back. So, it’s still a work in progress.

Ed traces another line, bringing me back to the present that I strive to live in.

“This is the line of destiny. Hmm… Yours is narrow and a little faint, so you are not likely to be bound by a common destiny.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

Ed laughs and drops my hand.

“Wait, what about you?”

He holds out his palm to me, and I consult the book.

“You definitely have air hands—square palms and long fingers.” My hand is starting to sweat. “It says you are easily distracted and can be anxious if not properly stimulated.”

“What was that? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ha, ha.”

“I think you were saying something about being properly stimula?—”

I cut him off, not able to handle the rest of that sentence while holding his hand in mine. “Your heart line starts at your middle finger, so you are restless in relationships.”

Ed takes his hand back. A customer walks in, and he says, “Let us know if you need anything.”

My hand feels cold and weightless. He swipes the book and goes to put it back on the shelf. I wonder if the last thing I said hit a nerve.