Ten Months of Knowing You

AN: Hello! I'm back from the land of the dead (aka school) and am ready to continue writing. I know most of you want me to continue Distance because I left it at such a cliffhanger, but one of my oldest and dearest friends, Nissa (shout-out to you!), asked me to write a story for her. Since she complimented me on my writing (for once), I thought I could take a short break from Distance and try my hand at this. So enjoy and, as usual, comment below, vote and re-read Distance, kay? Love always, J

Ten Months of Knowing You

Prologue

It was a rainy day in New York that day. The sky was painted in grey hues, getting darker as it descends towards Brooklyn. Michael walked down the street, towards an old bookstore a friend told him about. Said friend had told him that this bookstore sold classic, English and Latin books, which Michael liked. He stopped in front of it, looking up. It was a two-storey building, partly made of wood, squeezed between two brick buildings. He took a few steps towards the door and turned the shiny knob. Pushing the door open, a bell rang above him. A slightly plum worker walked out of the back room and greeted him. Michael smiled politely.

He walked to the shelves, examining the books. Most of them were used and in Latin, but Michael didn't mind. He didn't actually have a book in mind, as he read most of these. Just then, the bell rang, signalling a customer. The worker greeted them by name.

"Eli! How nice to see you today! How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Morris," the voice was female. Michael peeked through the shelf at her. Her back was to him. She was almost his height, probably because she was wearing heels. She wore a purple trench coat and had her brown hair in a high ponytail. She and the worker continued to talk.

"How's your, um, head?" the worker asked, hesitating a little with the word head.

"Under control, thankfully," she said, breathing a quiet sigh, "Is it here?"

"Finally," he gestured to the shelf Michael was standing behind. The girl thanked him and he went back to the back room. As she turned, Michael ducked down to avoid accidental eye contact.

He heard her footsteps walk towards him. He took a couple steps back to examine the whole shelf. The girl stopped next to him and looked up at the same shelf. Michael sneak a glance at her. She had bangs that just past her eyebrows, tanned skin, hollow cheeks and a Jewish nose. That was all he could see. Finally, once he'd stop looking at her, he spotted a book that sparked his interest. As he reached for it, so did the girl. Funnily enough, their hands touch as he took it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but that's my book," she said, her palm outstretched to him.

"It's a bookstore," Michael said simply.

"Yes, I know, but I've been waiting for that book for two weeks," she said, "It's my favourite book."

He looked down at the title, The Wrenched Heart. Sounds interesting.

"Have you read it?"

"Yes," she said, hand still in the air, waiting for the book. Michael thought for a while, before smiling.

"I'll cut a deal-"

"No."

"But you don't-"

"I don't care," she reached out to grab the book, but he was faster. He held the book over his head. "Give it!"

"Not until you agree to this," Michael said calmly, though the girl started glaring at him, her jaw clenched. She was furious. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Fine," she said, "What is it?"

"Come have coffee with me-"

"No."

"-and you can tell me all about The Wrenched Heart," Michael said, "If not, I'll just take it. And it looks like this is the last copy."

She crossed her arms and thought for a while, her brown eyes still glaring at him. Finally she gave in. "Fine."

Michael grinned. "Great!" he said and walked past her to the counter, where the plum worker came back out. He paid for the book while she stood behind him tapping her foot impatiently. Once they were out of the bookstore, Michael introduced himself.

"Elizabeth," the girl said, walking ahead of him.

"Hey, don't walk so fast, it's not like you have anything else to do!" he said, jogging a little to catch up with her.

"How do you know?" Elizabeth asked, turning sharply at him, "I could be meeting the Mayor of New York in twenty minutes and you don't know!"

"Well, for one, you went to an old Brooklyn bookstore on a rainy Saturday afternoon and agreed to have coffee with me in exchange for a book. So no, I doubt you're meeting the Mayor of New York," he said, laughing at the end. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

•••

"So tell me about yourself, Elizabeth," Michael said as they sat down in a café a few blocks from the bookstore. Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows.

"I thought you wanted me to tell you about the book?"

"We'll get to that," he said, waving the thought away, "But first, tell me about yourself."

"Ok, um...I graduated from Columbia a year ago, majoring in American Literature," she said.

"So that's why you're so passionate about books," Michael said jokingly, making her laugh quietly, "What else?"

"I've lived in New York my whole life with my mum and dad."

"Really? In Brooklyn or...?"

"Chelsea, but I like to come down here sometimes," she explained. Michael nodded.

"Anything else?"

Elizabeth looked down at her latte and bit her lip. She seemed to be deep in thought. She laced her fingers around the ceramic cup and looked up at Michael. There were tears in her eyes.

"I've been diagnosed with Low-Grade Astrocytoma two years ago, it's a-"

"I know what it is," he interrupted, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said, forcing a smile, "I've learned to live with it."

"What kind of treatment have you had?" he asked.

"Well, after having surgery to take it out, I was fine. But six months ago, I had a seizure while at my dad's place. I woke up in an ICU and found out it was back, growing ever so slowly," she let out a watery laugh, "So now I have to check in with my doctor once a month and have chemotherapy."

Michael was quiet. He regret ever asking her. He should've just let her talk about the book, but instead he had to ask about her personal life. And now it looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm sorry I ever asked," Michael said, "You can have the book, I'm-...sorry."

He placed the book on the table and walked out of the café, leaving Elizabeth alone. After walking about half a block from the café, Michael heard his name being called. He turned and saw Elizabeth running to him, holding the book.

"Hey, you left this, you idiot," she pushed the book into his hands.

"But-" He stopped when he saw her smile, a genuine smile. She looked absolutely, stunningly, breathtakingly, beautiful. As she was walking away from him, he realised he had fallen in love with a depressed, book-loving, girl with cancer. And he'd read enough books to know that that is the worst thing you could do.

He flipped open the cover of The Wrenched Heart and found that she had written her phone number along with "call me once you're done" on a skicky note.