My Funny Valyntine: Book One - The Pull

Chapter Three - September in the Rain

i.

On the last day of September, Valyntine works her regular Friday morning shift. Several times she stands at the window staring out into the street.

"What's got you off your trolley?" Margie asks. She and Louise have grown weary of Valyntine's refusal to come to them for help. All three relationships are suffering under the strain.

"Wha-nothing," Valyntine answers, leaving the window to take her place behind the counter. The first rush ended more than half an hour ago, and they've had only straggling customers since.

"Val?" Margie begins, with grave concern.

Valyntine scans the shop for Louise.

"She left an hour ago, said 'bye' to you twice. You never responded."

"Oh, didn't notice."

"She left because she wants me to talk to you."

"Wh-Why?"

"Because we're worried about you," answers Margie, her eyes pleading. "You've been coming to work for months, but you're never really here. You've lost weight. We didn't even think that was possible. You stare out the window, all the time, like you're looking for something or someone. You leave without saying a word to either of us. Some days, it's like you can't get out of here soon enough. We've even gotten complaints from regulars, Val."

"M'sorry," is the only reply Valyntine can manage.

"You don't have to be sorry, Val. We want you to come to us if you're- Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Um," Valyntine mumbles. The question has so many answers.

"Listen," Margie says, trying to be her friend, and for a moment she looks like she might try to reach out. "Whatever is happening to you... or, you know, if it's a 'whoever' that's happening to you, you can come to us, Val."

"M'sorry," Valyntine repeats. "Been so..." she starts to say but shakes her head. "Can't talk about it right now, Margie."

"Okay, well, Louise doesn't want me to tell you, but I think I should," Margie says, casting suspicious glances at the door, shifting her feet.

"Tell me what?"

"Someone came in here asking about you yesterday."

"What? Who? Who came in?" Valyntine asks, putting a hand on the counter for support, her heart thumping so hard she thinks it might drown out every other sound.

"She didn't say."

"She?"

"Came in last night, 'bout an hour after the five-whistle."

"What did she say?"

"Well, that's the thing," Margie says, rechecking the door, nervous. "She didn't ask for you. At least not, you know, specifically."

"M'confused," Valyntine says, trying to keep her voice steady. "How do you know-"

"Because she wasn't from around here. She was too, I don't know, clean or something. And," Margie checks the door one last time, speaking fast, "if you tell Louise I told you this, I'll deny it. But sweet song of the Lazy Moon, Val, the woman who came in, she's one of the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life." Valyntine watches Margie flush.

Could it have been the same woman on Green Dolphin Street? The one she collided with outside the door with fancy gold calligraphy. What was it called?