Finding Melody

61: A Secrets Touch

Something about the smell of old books calmed me, like the wind and the world could stop before me and I would breathe in and feel relieved. Old books were my equivalent of a mother's touch, old books filled my nostrils with something that seemed like home to me. The last time I had felt more at home was the last time I was here, curled up in Dallas's arms as he read to me and I fell asleep. This time it was him standing at the podium reading for not only me, but an audience. He volunteered at the bookstore his father visited, and it turns out Vienna and Dallas would come each summer, it's where they both learned their distinctive book choices, Dallas indulging into the classics and anything I handed to him and Vienna solving every mystery book she could get her hands on.

Susie May's bookstore, this special place they both loved, had grown on me too, and today added to this love even more. As I sat back in my chair, watching as people appreciated the art of books, the way a single line can make you wither to pieces, the way a simple word can change the fate of the forever loved characters. Dallas was standing at the podium broad shoulders, and his voice hilly and tired, but it didn't show in his tone. He had been reading for hours as passersby stopped in to see the crowd, they sat for a minute watching him. His eyes as he read off every word, his mouth moving, his eyes drawn to the words rather than the overflowing amount of people filling into the room until only the book closed and applause rose.

We had left the home early in the morning, and Dallas had said that we could read throughout the store, that we didn't need to sit there. But I roamed the store at first, making a list of the books I wanted of my own copies. But I found myself peering through the shelves looking at how drawn to the words Dallas was and how his heavenly voice fit into the air.

After he had read the first couple of pages I had found myself in a chair similar to the others in the crowd, sitting patiently and enthralled in his voice following the story like the words were played out in front of us. Something was so beautiful about this watching as the words flowed out of him like mistaken memories being brought back to you, like the idea of remembrance had been enchanted within you.

He finished the first book and applause ran through the building as people snuck in through the door and as I turned there were people hovering over the taken chairs, listening as he read out the last lines. And somehow still these people who had only wandered aimlessly, had felt that pull to his words, not knowing anything about the characters they still felt like they had to hear the ending the way Dallas told it.

His eyes broke away to applause as he found my eyes, surprise surfaced through them as he looked over at Susie May, glee chanting through her hearts as she looked around the bookstore and Dallas got off the podium. Vienna, who had been reading books behind the counter ran towards her brother smiling happily as she hugged him, while he spoke to people congratulating him. And something in their eyes, said something that they had felt too that movement of joy, of glee as if the world around them filled out perfectly.

"He's doing amazing... I've never seen so many people in my store". Susie May whispered over the loud rush of everyone's clamored voices.

"He's doing great... we read to each other-but I didn't know he still did public readings". I told her as she looked over at him.

"He's one of those people who waits for you to find things out, who waits for you to discover the inner workings of his world". She said, as she moved past me rushing to help the nimble but not fast enough cashier as people grabbed the book Dallas was just reading.

"Did you enjoy it?" I felt his lingering voice whisper into my own ear as I turned to face him.

"Your voice is so calming...". I said, trying my hardest to praise him the way he deserved it. But no sentence could explain or even seem to give him due diligence for his work, for his performance of a lifetime.