Aubade

Part 1: A Strange Meeting

     Clarissa sighed, pushing a piece of dark brown hair out of her eyes. She usually kept her hair up when at work but today she'd decided to try something different. She'd even curled her hair. Though she would admit it to no one even if asked, she was secretly hoping to impress the boy that came into the bookshop every Thursday afternoon just before the store closed. He never bought anything, but he seemed fascinated by all of the old books in the back. But today was Thursday and Clarissa would have to close the shop in a few minutes. Though Mr. Brown owned the tiny book shop, she was the sole employee and worked at the store nearly every day of the week. She was saving money for college classes.

        She sighed once more and decided to give it up. It was Saturday night and she wanted to close the shop and get home to her apartment. There was a record player and records just waiting for her. She froze as she heard the sound of a bell. The bell that signalled that someone was coming into the shop. She nervously ran a hand through her hair and straightened her blouse before looking up. To her great surprise, no one was at the door. She chuckled nervously. There was no noise coming from outside of the shop and she quickly decided to dismiss the bell. She'd been expecting the handsome stranger to come in so much so that she'd invented the sound in her head!

        She locked the cash register and tucked the key into the pocket of her jeans. Tomorrow would be devoted to finishing her school work. She had a project that needed some attention and she thought of all that she had to do.

Ding, ding, ding.

Clarissa looked up, slightly annoyed to be taken out of her thoughts and routine. The door to the bookshop was just closing but there was no one there. The door looked as if someone had just stepped inside and quickly closed it behind them. Clarissa felt her heart beat in her ears. Mr. Brown had no insurance on the store. Hell, there wasn't even an alarm in the place to notify the police of a burglarly.

"Whoever you are, I should have you know that the police are on their way," Clarissa said aloud in a strong, clear voice. Inside she was trembling.

There was no reply, not that she'd expected one. There was no noise in the shop other than her shallow breathing. Had she imagined someone there? Was she too over worked and tired?

She grabbed her purse, ready to head for the door either way. And then she heard it. Clarissa had worked at the bookshop long enough to recognize the soft noise of books being pulled off the shelf and being opened.

Oh God, what's happening here? she thought to herself. She knew she couldn't defend herself against a burglarer. There were a few rare books in the shop but they were kept locked away in the far back. Could that be what someone wanted?

"I'm warning you again! I don't have anything that you want, and the police will arrest you for breaking and entering," She said, her voice somewhat less confident now.

The noise stopped. She cautiously stepped out from behind the front desk. She peeked around a corner, and saw no one. There were only so many places that the burglarer could hide. She grabbed a paper weight from the desk and cautiously moved forward. She held the weight close to her chest, trying to keep her breathing even and steady. If she had to, she would hit this person and run for the door. Then she'd call the police.

All of the corners were cleared except for the back shelf. Clarissa paused and felt the fear welling inside of her chest, her breath catching in her throat. There was a dark figure standing there. Whoever it was appeared to be searching for a book. Quite frantically.

"Stop," Clarissa said again.

The person looked up,  an annoyed expression on his face. The man that stood before Clarissa didn't look like anyone that she had ever seen in the shop before. He was well over six feet tall, leanly built. His dark hair looked like it had been hastily brushed with his hand. But what Clarissa noticed most was his general appearance. His clothes were  dishelved. The t-shirt he was wearing appeared to have several holes in it. And his eyes. They were a mesmerizing blue but seemed somehow less so with the dark circles underneath them.

"I assure you, the police will be here soon," She said, finding her voice again. What did he want?

The man snorted, shaking his head. He suddenly looked amused. And Clarissa knew she might have looked amusing, a woman all of 5'4 with a paper weight as a weapon. But boy would she use it if she had to.

"First off, sweetheart, you haven't called anyone. I didn't hear you make a phone call and I have wonderful hearing. Second off, the nearest cop is five miles away." He said, a smile breaking out across his face.

Clarissa felt her fear replaced by anger, and she placed her hands on her hips. Who was this guy? Who did he think he was?

"How do you know any of that? Have you been scoping out the bookshop? What do you want?"  Clarissa demanded, suddenly more frustrated than afraid.

She wanted to be at home, curled up in her bed with a record playing. She'd had a long day and didn't know why this was happening to her of all people.

"I told you, I have excellent hearing. I don't care for this bookshop. I was just told by a trustworthy source that what I seek I would find here." He said, shrugging his shoulders. He spoke with his hands and Clarissa didn't notice that he had any weapon. That she could see anyway.

"What are you searching for?" She asked, her curiousity getting the best of her. What in the world was she doing? She should have been calling the police. She should have ran.

He paused and they seemed to be in a staring contest.

"I'm looking for an old book. Probably one of the oldest books this shop has. It's written by a woman called Margaret Leonala," he said, seeming to have made up his mind about something.

"Well, sir," Clarissa said, emphasizing the last word.

"You could have come in during regular business hours. And bought the book. That's what normal people tend to do," She finished.

The author wasn't familiar to her but she knew she could find the volume easily. She'd become somewhat of a skilled librarian in the year that she'd worked in the bookshop.

The guy sighed and rubbed his hands together. His shoulders sagged a little as if some of his energy had drained. Clarissa would have felt pity had she not felt like he were here to rob the store. He could be desperate for this book.

"I have money. Just, please. Help me find the book," He finally said, and he looked at her. There wasn't desperation in his eyes. It was more like a growing sadness and Clarissa knew she would help him. She knew before she even said it aloud. She was a sucker for a sad story.

She strode over briskly to where he was standing, peering at the label near the shelf. He was standing near the Rs. He clearly wouldn't find the book here. She ran her fingers over the spines of the books until she reached the Ls. She didn't know whether she'd find the book or not. But she did. She grabbed the title, and stared at it for a few seconds. The book was a hardcover, with a dark green binding. There was no title on the cover.

"Is this it?" She asked, holding the book up in her left hand.

He nodded and seemed tense. Clarissa thought he looked like he wanted to reach out and grab it. However she wasn't going to allow that to happen. She quickly moved back to the register and put the book down. She got the key for the register out of her pocket again.

The man had followed her back to the front, and began to dig around in his pocket. He laid a crumpled $50 on the desk and stared at her patiently.

Clarissa took the bill and gave no change back to him. The book had been worth the exact amount. She relucantly handed him the book. Now her curiousity was back. What was that book for? What was it even about?

He took the book from her and their hands briefly brushed against one another.

"I'm sorry I had to do it this way. I was just running out of time," He said slowly, as he held the book close to his side.

Clarissa opened her mouth to respond but soon he was already out the door and gone. She sighed and closed the register, locking it once more. What a strange man.

And she went home to her apartment, after locking the bookshop of course. She thought little of the incident for several weeks to come. Until, on a bright Thursday morning, the man came back.