10. Ami
Chapter ten
Ami
Back at the bookstore, I start surfing the shelves for something to read.
My mind is numb. On the one hand, I think about Aunt Maggie and how shocking it must have been for her to hear the truth.
On the other hand, I still cannot shake off the reality that I know about the town's hidden history and have not done anything about it.
Yesterday’s argument with Aunt Maggie told me that she does not want to hear anything about the matter at hand.
I scan the rows of the books when I come across the story section.
Reading has always given me pleasure. I pick up a book named “Morales over Love” that piques my interest and start flipping the pages.
The story is about someone who falls in love with a mafia leader who is responsible for the city’s misery.
The girl is somehow unaware and falls for him.
At the end, when the truth is revealed, she decides to betray him and hand him over to the police.
It feels like hours when I finally decide to put the book down. For some reason, I have found my answers.
The internal battle I have been fighting since finding out about the town’s secret has weighed me down. After talking to Aunt Maggie, it’s clear that she doesn't want to talk about it or have me either. However, I can’t help it.
Borrowing a pen and paper from the counter, I sit on a couch beside the racks. I start jotting down my ideas. Dusty also joins me, taking a peaceful nap on my lap while I get busy writing.. There are not a lot of people in the shop, so it gives me the perfect atmosphere to do what I love: write.
I have been scared to explore my interest lately. The topic, being a sensitive one, does not help either. But, I find myself scribbling on the paper without a second thought. I guess the town truly is helping me get over my writer’s block.
“Seabrook, known for its lively atmosphere, the potential for a business hub, a wonderful spot for tourist attraction… The sea breeze, crowded bazaar, and peaceful and loving people make up the town’s essence.
The residents take pride in these qualities.
And those are all wonderful qualities. However, there is another side to our town, long hidden.
Some may resist its true cultural heritage and historical significance once the facts are known: I hope you are not one.
Did you know that Seabrook was discovered by Bohemian artists, poets, and creative souls?
Seabrook, which was originally founded to be the ground for creativity, gradually lost those charms. Now, what remains are the quest for modernization and a struggle for survival.
“Culture is the arts elevated to a set of beliefs” –Thomas Wolfe.
How easy it is to let go of the centuries of heritage!
Just how easy it was for the people then to change the purpose of origin of the town as time passed!
Seabrook used to be a town full of life and creativity, a town that was built on the dreams and passion of the artisans.
A town that saw the evolution of art and literature which seems to be missing today.
A town so rich in history that everybody tried to bury it.
In fact, they eventually were successful in erasing the original culture and history.
Should we stand by while the truth is erased? Should we accept that such a vital piece of our past has been buried for generations? No. We can act now. We must act now, because only we can revive Seabrook’s glorious artistic history and weave it into the fabric of our modern life.
I put up a full stop and stare at the paper. For a moment, I become flustered at the thought that I have written the narrative. My hands start trembling ever so slightly as I experience a sense of adrenaline.
What should I do with the piece in my hand? I haven’t written it for myself. I wrote it for the people to know. However, I know that Aunt Maggie might not approve.
“Hey, Ami. I knew I would find you here.” Suddenly, I hear Ethan’s voice from behind me. My stomach does somersault as I hurriedly try to hide the piece of paper. I was not prepared for someone to find me with what I’ve just written.
I get up instantly and hide the paper behind my back. Giving Ethan a flustered smile, I notice that he is trying to take a peek at my hand.
“Oh! Hi, Ethan. Didn’t see you coming,” I tell him with a smile. My face probably looks flushed.
“I went to find you at your place. I didn’t see you there. I assumed you would be here,” he replies with a shrug. His eyes are scrutinizing me as if I have stolen something.
Well, you're probably acting like you have stolen something!
“Is anything the matter?” I inquire because I know he would not just decide to find me. He must be there for a reason.
“I need your help regarding something,” he grins as he says that.
Woah! Never thought he would require my help.
“Yeah sure, what is it?”
He sits on the couch. Meanwhile, I grab the book and discreetly put the paper inside. I finally let out a breath of relief when I successfully hide the paper. Putting the book beside me, I turn to him.
“Tell me, how did you conclude that you required my help!” I ask with a playful look. He lets out a hearty laugh.
“Why? You think I can’t ever need your help?” He asks with a questioning look.
“Well, we never used to need the other’s help, so I just assumed,” I shrug. He shakes his head.
“That was in the past. Now, it appears that we might need the other’s help after all.”
He’s right. He also helped accompany me while I talked to Aunt Maggie the other day. Thinking of that, I didn’t even thank him, I was so frustrated with the situation.
“Thank you for being there with me while I talked to her yesterday. I needed that a lot.”
“Don’t mention it. Glad to give you the moral support you needed. I hope things get easier on her, and she eventually accepts,” he smiles, making me smile, too. He is indeed considerate.
“I hope so too. Anyway, tell me how I can help. I can’t believe I am repeating myself for the third time,” I let out a chuckle. He joins me as well.
“Okay, the thing is that I’ve already decided to change my election campaign strategy.
My supporters are divided right now. Some of them seem to accept the new direction of my campaign.
Others are totally opposed to it. They’re justified because they joined me for my original campaign, not for this.
So you can say that things are quite complicated right now.
What I need for now is a renewed campaign speech.
Since you're a writer, I thought why not get your help? Will you help me?” He asks with a hopeful look in his eyes.
I bite my lips looking at the book beside me.
Am I really a writer? Yes, I love writing. I just wrote a piece. However, I am not that confident to help him in his campaign speech.
“Ethan, I don’t think I can—” I am about to finish my sentence when I see him grab the book. I look with horror as he opens it and takes out the page.
“Ethan, give it to me!” I try to grab the paper from his hand when he moves his hand so high I can’t reach. He gets up from the couch with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I was wondering what you were hiding earlier. You also kept looking at the book time and again. I was sure there was something you were hiding. What is it? A love letter?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully making me want to smack either him or myself.
A love letter? Seriously?
“Ethan, I swear! If you don’t return it, you're going to regret it!” I threaten him with the hope that he will listen to me. Did he listen though? No!
“Let me see what you’ve written. Who is the lover boy?” He chuckles as he tries to look at what is inside. He looks so curious. However, there is another look that I cannot decipher.
Jealousy?
No! Why would he be jealous? He never showed any interest in me.
There is no way for him to feel jealous if indeed he thinks I’ve written a love letter for someone.
I snatch the paper from his hands with a victorious smile, making him glare at me playfully.
Some people inside the bookstore pass us disapproving looks.
They’re probably wondering why we are fighting in the middle of the bookstore. I flash them a guilty smile.
“Are you not going to show me?” He huffs dramatically while sitting down. I chuckle at the childish tactic.
“Why do you want to know?” I ask, enjoying his utmost curiosity.
“Just coz!” He shrugs. Shaking my head, I decide to give him the paper.
When he sees me giving the paper to him willingly, his eyes go wide with surprise.
Just a moment ago, I was refusing to let him read it.
Now, I am giving it to him myself. Deep down, I don’t want him to think that I have written a love letter to someone.
To be honest, I have grown a bit of a grown-up crush on him.
He grins as he takes the paper from my hand and starts reading.
I wait with a racing heart for him to finish so I can hear his feedback.
I don’t know why, but I am fearing how my writing will be taken by the people, if ever I decide to publish it.
One reason I decided to show him the paper is that I trust that he will give his honest opinion on it.
Besides, he is also super enthusiastic about reviving the town’s historical significance.
I thought there was no need to hide it from him.
He looks at me with a surprised expression, “Did you write this?”
What kind of question is that? Of course, I wrote it. Why would I have hidden it otherwise?
“Yes,” I answer as I avoid eye contact. I don’t know why I’m feeling this nervous.
“You're a genius, Ami. This is wonderful. Are you thinking of publishing it somewhere?” He asks with genuine curiosity this time. I shake my head.
“No. I just wrote whatever came to my mind. It’s just a piece of writing.
It’s not complete yet. I just want to show Aunt Maggie my writing,” I tell him.
Yes, I am planning to write the story further.
There are a lot of things to explore. Seabrook has a rich history and culture along with its natural significance.
I plan to create a story about how significant the town is, and how important it is for the people to realize that.
“That’s great. I’m sure you will do a great job with the story, Ami. I also know your aunt will like it,” he smiles as he gives me the paper and a pat on the back. I grin seeing him react that way.
“Thank you.”
“So, Ami, let’s get back to the problem at hand. Please help me with the speech. Now that I have seen a glimpse of your writing, you can’t convince me you cannot help,” he gives puppy eyes making me crack up. He’s running in the town elections, yet he is making puppy eyes at me.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I say, grabbing the pen and a piece of paper.
In the next hour, we brainstorm the points that he wants to include. I help him craft a speech that reflects his new campaign and direction. He is quite determined to win his supporters over. I enjoy working with him.
I never knew that a day would come when we would happily and willingly help and lift one another. It makes me laugh to think how we would butt heads whenever we met before. Now, we are sitting together on the couch writing a speech.
No doubt! I have a good time lately whenever I am with him.