I flip the card. “Why would I need his help? Alma said that a customer left it. And we all know Lorna’s crazy.”
Hailey shrugs her shoulder. “I don’t know, in case you get curious, I guess. Want to know if there’s more to the story.” She winks. “No pun intended.”
“What does he do exactly?”
“Figures out the value, can tell you what addition they are, things like that.” She snaps her fingers as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh, my dad mentioned that the guy’s also a collector too. Has some super rare first editions.”
We walk past an industrial-size trash bin packed with discarded blue, pink, and yellow neon papers.
“Just think about it. Could be helpful.”
Honestly, I have no clue if this could be of value or not, but it’s a nice gesture, so I tuck the card into the side pocket of my book bag.
Besides, who knows. Hailey could be right, and this guy might be able to give me some answers or at least prove Lorna wrong.
I have shown Hailey my book before. You don’t have to touch it to know it’s made of a finer quality. Just looking at the hardcover, you can tell it’s a nice edition.
The gold leaf wrapped around the red-dyed binder isn’t something picked up at an everyday bookstore.
Her eyes widen into alarming cookie-sized orbs. “One other thing. My mom said the guy is… off.”
“Should I be worried this guy is going to murder me?” I say it jokingly but am not at all. Not after I saw the hint of unsettlement flash in those pupils.
“No, no,” she stresses, grabbing at my bicep. “Not that, just… strange… with people. You know, kooky.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better.
Kooky, how?
twenty-seven
Rory
Then…
Livingwithsomeonewhois so absent all the time, you begin to pick up their traits. Their quirks.
I know the antidepressants my mother takes are like candy to a toddler and to never touch them. Or accidentally blend a few into a smoothie, thinking they are jelly beans.
I was five.
So, it’s strange, counting the number of pills left in the bottle and coming up with the same number as yesterday. Lillian is as dependent on them as she has been on alcohol for the last couple of months.
That being a new staple in her diet she’s been testing out.
Usually, my mother chooses to void the world out. One day sinks into the next until it all becomes a blur. Not today, though, today is one of the few days where she’s woken up and hasn’t needed a single pill.
I never understood how she’s so dependent on them. Then today, she wakes up and acts as if she’ll never need them again. It’s like something clicked in her brain and she found purpose again. I will never comprehend how that works.
Today had been great. Tonight, a different story.
Our home is usually filled with lulled silence by this point in the evening. Now it’s heavy with yelling and shouting. The phone’s been plastered to my mother’s ear for the last hour.
I jump.
Something hits her bedroom wall with a loud thump. More muffled sounds, then another louder, more assertive thump. This one sounded breakable.
Cautiously, I move closer, cracking the door only enough to peek through. Her hand is on her hip, back to me as she listens on the other side of the line.