Tug-at-your-heartstrings new adult first love story.
What starts as a bet to avoid cleanup duties at her minimum wage cashier job, wins Amelie D'Amico more than she's ever hoped for.
When Ben, a cute customer who always checkouts at her register, fi...
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The deceptive warmth of the mid-October sun doesn't fool the thermometer that is hovering around fifty degrees. Back to wearing clothes—too many clothes for my taste—Ben leans on the doorframe leading to the bathroom.
"I should've brought my hairdryer." I cringe at the damp mess of my limp waves in the steamed-up mirror.
"You wouldn't have had the time to use it. We were supposed to be at Tall's twenty-two minutes ago."
"Can we skip and stay here for the rest of the day?"
"No. Tall has not invited anyone in ages. He ordered food, and I'm starving. Breakfast was four-hours and twenty-three minutes ago."
Tall's apartment is near the Ritz Carlton building Ben's parents live at but it's much closer to the state Angie and my apartment is in. It's a modest one-bedroom, but the ceilings are high, and the old moldings are formidable. The intimidating part of the living-room is the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that cover every wall as well as the spaces above the doors and below the windows. Books are on every available flat surface, and I have to move some to sit down on one of the recliners. A row of glass-door, fridge-like cabinets filled with books sparks my curiosity.
"Are those humidors?" I ask Tall, who's sitting in the other recliner, while Ben remains on the floor next to me—the only other available spot.
"Oh, those, good eye. Sort of. They are humidity-controlled cabinets for books that are old or require special care. But the principle is very similar to that of a humidor." Tall points to the one in the middle. "I left the books in that one to Ben in my will. They are my most valued possessions. All first editions: Ulisses, The Great Gatsby, Casino Royale, Pride, and Prejudice—some are signed by the authors and are the crown jewels of my collection. But I have many more. I invested in books, right, Ben?"
"I am glad you let me diversify your portfolio and invest heavily in municipal bonds and some in the stock market. Although rare first editions hold their value well." Ben resumes paging through a book.
"What would my finances be like without you." Tall winks at me as if we are sharing a secret. "Lunch is on its way. I called them to deliver as soon as Ben let me know you were parking. Can I interest you in some tea? Ben tells me you are quite the connoisseur."
"I wouldn't go that far, but I have a small tea collection. What d'you have?"
"Only Earl Grey and Lapsang Souchong, I am afraid, any interest?"
"Lapsang Souchong sounds great, thanks," I say.
"My dear boy, would you make us tea please, Lapsang Souchong? My hip has been bothering me all day." Tall touches his left side. "And I'd rather sit here if you don't mind. You know your way around my kitchen."
"Sure, Tall. Please do not make Amélie run away this time." And Ben leaves us alone.
"Any other secrets I should know about?" I stare the older man down. I don't want any surprises. Tall is playing nice in front of Ben but I can feel the same assessing judgement happening in his head. He's not going to catch me unawares again.
"You are direct, I give you that. Let's get straight to business, shall we? What are your intentions with Ben?" Tall purses his lips, waiting for my answer.
"We're dating, and there's no sinister plot behind it."
Tall leans forward in his recliner. "Not sinister, perhaps, but I'm sure you know he is well-off."
Now he's accusing me of gold-digging. How am I the villain here? I cross my legs, push my head back and lift an eye-brow at him. He's not going to scare me.
"Why would that matter?"
"You seem to be in some financial straits, no?" He rests his elbows on his knees and forms a dome with his fingers, tapping them to an unheard rhythm. "Are you expecting him to bail you out, spend money on you?"
"Are you basing that on my clothes or did Ben tell you something?"
"Ben didn't say anything. But your place of work kind of gives it away, I'm afraid."
Wow. That's even worse than I thought. Judging the book by it's cover at its worst. I don't need to impress him, but I can't help it. The recent month of being neck-deep in Latin might pay off.
"Timendi causa est nescire," I say and raise both eyebrows at him.
He smiles. "The cause of fear is ignorance. What mug did you read that on?" He is openly challenging me now.
I point at the book I've noticed earlier on his shelf. "Same one Seneca was drinking out of when he was writing his Natural Questions."
He doesn't say anything,
"May I?" I get up and slide the book out. It's old and dusty on top but when I open it falls onto a page I'm familiar with. It's in English, not the original Latin though. "There will come a time when our descendants will be amazed that we did not known things that are so plain to them." I read out loud and close the book. "So you are familiar with where the line comes from."
"I certainly am. Didn't expect someone of your..." He stalls.
"Ok, we're back to the Mr. Hyde version? And then Dr. Jakyll will be back with apologies for getting carried away?"
Tall laughs, and his expression softens. "Touché, my dear, touché. I don't know anything about you. You didn't seem the right sort of girl for Ben. Yes, I'm meddling, no big surprise, but you must understand. Ben is like a son to me, and I don't want to see him hurt."
"Well, we have something in common. I'm not an evil person. And it would be best if you let Ben decide for himself. Even if he is wrong. Making mistakes isn't such a bad thing. That's how we humans learn. You must know that at your age."
"Ouch, I'm eighty-three, not one hundred. But you haven't answered my question. What are your intentions with Ben?"
"But I did. We are enjoying each other's company. There's no plan—malicious or otherwise."
"Well, I'm glad you are not a wallflower, Amélie. And I'm going to back off." He relaxes into his chair. "Any other of my books tickle your fancy?"
"You shouldn't ask unless you're ready to lend me some." I don't know why I like Tall after what he put me through. Maybe it's all the books he owns. I can sense a fellow bibliophile.
"I'll pick some for you then. I do it for Ben from time to time. And we can discuss the next time you come to visit."
Ben returns with three steaming cups of tea right when the doorbell rings, and we move into the kitchen nook to eat. Having cleared the air with Tall, the lunch conversation graduates from the stilted exchange we had last week at Ben's parents' place to an easy-going banter. Tall enjoys embarrassing Ben with stories of him as a teenager and recounts how Ben forced him to do his physical therapy exercises after he fell and broke his hip, insisting on doing them alongside him. And Tall's payback of getting Ben his first library card at the ripe old age of eighteen.
We talk for hours, transitioning from lunch to tea with the eclairs I insisted we pick up at Maison Parisienne on the way to Tall's, to another round of tea. At five, Ben and I help Tall clean up and when we turn to leave Tall hands me a stack with Martin Eden by Jack London, Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert, in its original French and The Idiot, by Fedor Dostoyevsky.
"A gift to go with my apology." He winks at me. Sly old bastard.
I get all three of his hints. I take a photo of the stack and text it to Mom. A while later she texts me the same books from her own collection. Her Madame Bovary is the copy I read one of my summers with her. The book that was a struggle for me to get through at the beginning of the summer turned into a nightly read with Mom. A special time I got back to the rest of the year when I missed her, dreaming of the day I could spend more evenings with her.
