Radical Love
RADICAL LOVE
Evie: Taking care of yourself?
Jon: I had pie for breakfast.
Evie: I call that a victory.
Jon: Everybody in this town bakes!
Jon: I saved you a slice.
Evie: …
Evie: I’ll think about it.
The lifeline had been cast. Evie only had to grab hold.
Last night, I lay in bed, staring at the hideous wallpaper in Mimi’s house. The faded floral print reminded me of a dress Evie wore to her first dance in middle school. As I tried falling asleep, I could hear Mom telling me to stand with my sister. Me in overalls and her in a dress—the photo hung on the stairs of their house until we sold it.
I stopped on the sidewalk, letting out a deep sigh. Evie’s comment about me wandering through life hadn’t been wrong, and that stung. I loved my job… sometimes. Designing book covers scratched my artistic itch, but it wasn’t as fulfilling as I first thought. Now, I thought of it as a way to afford food and stream the Romance Channel.
I paused in front of Twice-Told Tales, studying Firefly’s downtown. Along the side, they had converted a mill into storefronts. Jason’s comic shop occupied the first spot, and somewhere inside, Amanda gave him grief about who knows what. Almost directly across the green stood Simon’s bistro. It seemed oddly fitting that they could almost see each other from their windows. The green down the middle of the town had every component to make it the perfect setting for a movie. That might be why Chris petitioned to use Firefly for the adaptation of Amanda’s comic.
“Quaint,” I said. Not good, nor bad—just quaint. Everybody talked about the magic of Firefly. Once the town got its hooks into them, they couldn’t imagine leaving. I could see its charm, but calling it home? I just didn’t understand the allure. The city had options, people, and things to do when sitting inside turned tedious. Firefly? It didn’t have much of anything.
The bell rang as I pushed my way inside the vintage store; much like Tyler’s library, the space smelled old. Going through the boxes was taking me forever, and I decided I needed to enlist help.
“Gladys, I know you’re hiding,” I called.
“Jonny!” From this angle, it almost looked as if she stepped out of an armoire. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of her oversized wardrobes led to Narnia. It’d fit right into the quirks of Firefly.
She rushed across the room, the floorboards creaking as her arms spread wide. I prepared for the impending hug in 3… 2… “Oomph.” Her vise-like grip and the frizz of her white hair tickled my nose.
“I’m so sorry to hear about Hazel.” It always took a moment for me to connect the dots. To us, she’d always be Mimi, but my grandmother had a life outside of her grandkids.
“Remind me to send over a casserole.”
No point in arguing or explaining; I already had three. At this rate, I wouldn’t need to stop at the grocery store for weeks. Gladys leaned back, studying my face. I might not know the folks in Firefly, but because of the stories Mimi told, they knew me.
“You have her cheeks.” She pinched them to emphasize her point. Boundaries? What were those? Gladys’s lips thinned as she smiled. I had to remind myself I served as a conduit to a woman she once called a friend.
“I wondered if you could give me some help.”
Her eyebrow arched. She drifted around the counter, pulling her cardigan tight before resting on her elbows. “I’m listening.” The sweet little old lady transitioned into a coy businesswoman without effort.
“Mimi’s house is filled with ju?—”
“Watch it!”
I searched for the right word. “Treasures.”
“Better. ”
“I was going to get them ready to sell, but I thought it might be easier if somebody with your discerning eye?—”
“Keep sweet talking,” she said with a smirk.
“Would you like first dibs? Tell me what you want, and I can get Bobby to help me bring it over.”
She tried to maintain a poker face, but the gleam in her eye said she was already picking through my grandmother’s house. The thought of cleaning it out didn’t bother me, but throwing it away? I hoped Mimi’s belongings could have a second life, even better if it went to somebody in Firefly.
“Does she still have the grandfather clock she bought in London?”
“London?” The beast of a clock stood in her hallway, the chimes making enough noise to raise the dead. I think she bought it between my freshman and sophomore years. One visit, it was an empty space, and on the next, a massive clock that woke me every morning.
“She insisted on seeing the Crown Jewels. Her obsession started after the royal wedding.”
“My grandmother went to London?” My brain couldn’t make sense of the statement. Mimi didn’t like leaving her house if she could help it. “Are we talking about the same Hazel Olsen?”
Gladys laughed. “What do you think she did between your visits?” She shook her head, smiling the entire time. “Hazel had wanderlust. I always envied her. She got an idea in her head, and somehow, she made it happen. Someday, I’ll tell you about when she tried her hand at deep-sea fishing.”
No. She confused my sweet, mitten-knitting, hot cocoa enthusiast, cookie-baking grandmother with somebody else. Mimi on a boat? The thought of her in bright yellow slickers was a hard pill to swallow.
“Say what you want…” Gladys reached across the counter, poking me in the chest. I flinched, more from surprise than anything else. I glanced down at her finger with a raised brow. Boundaries? Those didn’t exist in Firefly. “I see a little of her in you.”
My biggest adventure involved getting lost and winding up in New Hampshire. Hopping on a plane and traveling to another country? Setting foot on a fishing boat? I could never.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” I asked.
“I’ll stop by. I’m sure she still has her blue tea kettle. We can trade stories.”
“I’d like that.”
Knowing Mimi’s spirit remained in the fabric of Firefly warmed my heart. It was one thing to know her belongings would have another lease on life, but knowing Firefly remembered her fondly, I had to fight back the tears.
“My number is on the yellow notepad in her kitchen.” From tears to cracking up, I had to accept that this level of familiarity would be a thing while I was here. Gladys probably knew my grandmother’s house better than me.
“So, what’s going on with you and Tyler? ”
I stiffened. “What about him?”
“There are no secrets in Firefly.” Her words were both ominous and accurate. “Seems there might be a little romance between the stacks?”
Gladys had set the trap, fluttering her eyelashes as she feigned innocence. If I acknowledged the accusation, she’d send out the carrier pigeons, alerting the town to activate the romance brigade. They’d come rushing, determined to make a love connection. If I said no, they’d… well, they’d still call out their band of meddling do-gooders. I watched enough romance movies to know how this went.
“I’ll give a non-committal maybe.” Not a lie, at least not entirely. A fling would make for a fun distraction, but if feelings got involved, it'd only make for a rough goodbye.
Her hand moved down the counter, inching toward her cell phone. Dammit. The moment I left, the whole town would get text messages with the latest gossip.
“Don’t do it, Gladys.”
“Do what?”
I eyed her phone.
“Just checking my… invoices.”
I shook my head as I turned and headed for the door. Could I get to my car before the florist insisted she had an extra bouquet and suggested I give it to somebody special? Or maybe the baker would accidentally have an order that needed delivering to the library?
I barely got outside when my phone buzzed.
“Wow, she is fast. ”
Evie: This is your fault.
Photo received. I couldn’t stop laughing at the image of her dressed in business attire, arm protecting a wedge of pie on a plate. Blueberries stained her lip as she narrowed her eyes, glaring through the phone at me. Her cheeks bulged as she chewed, the golden glow of kitchen lights casting soft shadows across Evie’s face. A single photo built a bridge that had long ago fallen away. The deep blue stain of blueberry juice on her lip meant it had been tasty.
Our parents’ deaths had driven a wedge between us, and over time, it was easier to ignore than engage. I had friends I considered family. Jason and Amanda were like siblings, and I loved them. They weren’t Evie. I remained hopeful. One tragedy separated us, but maybe another would bring us together? It’s what Mimi would have wanted.
The thought left me smiling.
Jon: Pie theft?
Tyler: No… maybe next time.
Jon: Cow tipping?
Tyler: You’ll never guess.
Jon: You’re killing me.
Jon: Wait…
Tyler: Not murder!
Jon: That’s what a killer would say !
The grandfather clock chimed nine.
“Why are you so loud?” I stopped in the hallway, watching the swinging pendulum. I didn’t dare stop it. Every hour, on the hour, I jumped. Despite my frazzled nerves, it fit perfectly into Mimi’s eclectic style.
Leaning in, I noticed the tiny letters beneath the black metal hands. “London Time Keepers.” In all the years I visited, I never noticed that detail. Even if I had, I’d have assumed she bought it from Gladys. To think Mimi went on an expedition to see the Queen’s jewels made me smile.
“What other secrets do you have?”
I glanced toward the arch leading into the living room. Did the couch come from Egypt? Had she traveled to Asia for the oriental rug? I still couldn’t get over the image of her with a fishing pole battling stormy seas. It defied everything I knew about her. Or had I underestimated her zeal for life?
“Mimi, you’re an enigma.” I smiled. Had she been an adventurer? Did she climb mountains and plant flags? If it weren’t so late, I’d have gone into the attic and scoured photo albums. I needed proof that she’d been even more extraordinary than I remembered.
Walking into the living room, I smacked into the arch. I stopped, shaking my head. If my clumsiness didn’t border on tragic, I’d think the arch moved. Add to the many phantom bumps and bruises I acquired from having two left feet. I plopped down on the couch. I’d forgotten she didn’t have a television. She didn’t mind the idea, but she’d always claimed she’d rather live than watch people living. Gladys’s revelation took Mimi’s statement to a whole new level.
I had no choice but to settle in for the night. Firefly didn’t have late-night bars or restaurants. The town shut down when the sun vanished. During the day, it might be quaint, but at night, it turned positively boring. I couldn’t wait to return to Portland and not be trapped inside. What I wouldn’t give for a lively late-night coffee shop.
Amanda had left a stack of sketchbooks on the coffee table. The top one had a worn, scuffed cover, its edges softened by years of use. I ran my thumb over the rough texture, feeling the slight grit of the paper beneath my fingers. She’d gone through them all, commenting and critiquing my work. She’d pause and complain about my talent. More than once, she threatened to rope me into one of her comic projects.
I stared at the brown cover before giving in. It had been so long that I couldn’t recall what was inside. Flipping it open, I was met with the first sketch: a portrait of Jason from my old crush phase. Of course. It had everything but the little hearts around it. He had his nose in a comic, his eyes wide as he discovered Prime had saved the day by sacrificing himself.
“Wow,” I muttered, turning the page. Bits of paper hung from the spine where I’d torn out sketches. I’d been too afraid at the time to give Jason his portrait, but I’d left others where the models could find them. There must have been dozens of missing pages.
When I turned the blank page, I gasped. Evie sat at the dining room table, her college algebra textbook open. It should’ve made me cringe, but she loved numbers. I considered it the first moment when she believed she’d make it through school.
I brushed my fingers along the paper, feeling the coarse surface. Holding my breath, my heart pounded as I turned the page.
“Mom,” I whispered. She sat on the couch, holding a book. Her face always gave away if the heroine kicked ass, found herself in danger, or was naked in the arms of a lover. Any quiet moment, she had a book in her hands.
I spotted the hand on her leg. Turning, I found her partner in crime. While she read about heroines off on adventures, Dad had his nose in a romance novel. Unlike her, he had a steely gaze that didn’t give away what happened on the page.
I tore the pages from the notebook like I used to. I set them on the coffee table, overlapping them so it appeared as if they shared the couch. The fact they’d been in my sketchbook meant they had never seen them. I wish they saw themselves through my eyes.
“Radical love,” I whispered.
I’d been terrified the first time I’d left a sketch behind. Would they think I was creepy, watching them in their element? Or would they see it for what it was—an attempt to capture a person pursuing their passions? I’d wanted to believe people hung them on walls as reminders to do what they loved.
I flipped the page, surprised the portrait of Mimi had gone missing. Brushing my fingers over the paper, I could feel the indentations of what had been my favorite portrait of her. It had been her sitting in a housecoat with her knitting needles, furiously working on another pair of mittens. I’d thought I’d captured her passion, but after talking to Gladys, I realized I’d missed the mark.
London.
I poked at the spine, freeing a pencil. To my surprise, twenty years hadn’t broken the tip. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat down and sketched. At some point, I’d given it up to focus on “serious” pursuits. I rolled it between my fingers, spinning it about before it fell into place. It felt like shaking hands with an old friend.
Blocking out her form, I could see Mimi’s outline and the start of the Tower Bridge behind her. I grabbed the sketchbook, curling up against the arm of the couch. When I closed my eyes, I imagined her staring at Big Ben, debating how she could drag it home.
This time, I wanted to do her justice. As her features came into view, I couldn’t help but smile. The radical love concept worked both ways. The moment I spotted her cheeks, it felt like a warm hug. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed sitting and watching lines turn into objects and objects into people.
It’d be a late night. I owed myself some radical love.