Voice Of A Troubled Angel

Chapter Two: Dead Girl Walking

    Christiana Dame dragged herself to work everyday. If she were to be honest, however, her workdays were not as draining as she told herself they were. She truly loved working with books and while many people did not like her, their dislike had never once stopped her from liking them. She could admire from afar and be intrigued, even if from afar was not far enough away from her for the people.

   Of course, there would always be the odd cat in the bushel. Ray Carnton, for example, a young librarian who hung around Cathy's Bookshop after he finished work. Christiana didn't mind him, but she was uncomfortable in his presence. She didn't like the way he looked at her... it was too familiar.

    The one real complaint she had about her job was Mr. Cathy's air-conditoning system. He was from Switzerland and insisted anything above seventy degrees was boiling hot. Most of the profit from his store went towards keeping his A/C at sixty something degrees. Christiana often wore jeans to work and a sweater. Which was fine with her, as it covered some of her... less appealing qualities. But stepping out from sixty degrees to ninety degrees was not easy. Her constitution couldn't always handle the frigid to steaming temperatures. Not to mention, many people called out to her on the street about wearing jeans and sweaters in the middle of summer, and she hated being in the center of attention.

    But overall, she liked her job.

    Mr. Cathy was an undeniable romantic, like her, and he was quite funny. He was in his seventies, gray haired, and a widower. His wife had died fifteen years ago, and her name had been Cathy. She loved reading. So to honor her, he changed his surname and hung a picture of her up in the center of the bookstore the couple had been saving up for years to buy. Mr. Cathy often walked around in Bermuda shorts and tropical shirts... that is, on days he wasn't dressing up. He often dressed up - and to Christiana's dismay, had her dress up - as different characters from stories. Once a month he held a party in his store promoting a classic novel. In the time Christiana had worked there, they had gone through Great Expectations, where Mr. Cathy was Pip and she was Miss Havisham, Sense and Sensibility, where he was Colonel Brandon and she was Elinor Dashwood, Harry Potter, where he was Professor Dumbledore and she was Harry, Gone with the Wind, Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'hara, and Holmes and Watson, and Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple, to name a few.

  Christiana walked into the bookstore, and the familiar chime of the bell announced her arrival.

   "Hey Mr. Cathy, I'm  - did I miss the dress like a pirate memo?"

     She glanced confusedly at her employer, who was currently stacking books and donning an eyepatch, buckled purple boots, and a stuffed animal parrot on his shoulder that had 'Polly wanna cracker' stitched into its chest.

   "Arghhh, Christine," Mr. Cathy said, using his nickname for her. "Welcome to the poopdeck, me arty. No, I never sent a memo, I just felt like drssing up. Can you take the stack of travel books over to the starboard side, me arty?"

   Christiana threw her purse in the general direction of the office and picked up the seven books piles on the counter. "Sure. But I think the correct term is me hearty, not arty. Arty sounds like someone's name."

    Mr. Cathy pouted at her like a small child denied a coveted piece of candy. "Oh, Christiana, you're no fun."

   "And you are quite spontaneous."

   "Moi?"

    "Oui, vous."

   "Tu, Christine, I'm a friend."

   "Je suis desole, mon ami. I am sorry, my friend."

    Mr. Cathy just chuckled heartily.