Chapter 1 #2
Brushing my fingers along the base of the willow, I set it back in its place, surprised at myself that I even had the nerve to touch it at all.
There is a boisterous caw from one of the crows that collect outside my door just as the phone rings.
My feet click against the oak floorboards, while I make my way to the telephone attached to the back wall.
Its mustard yellow color, a stark contrast to the dated brown and blush pink pinstripe wallpaper behind it.
The voice that greets me is bubbly and full of way too much pep for this hour of the day. Lollie. She is trying to get me to come out for another round of bar hopping tonight.
As much as I try to be a homebody in the evenings, Lollie’s go get ‘em attitude always gets me feeling like maybe there is something to look forward to with a night on the town. Perhaps there could be a man to live up to the romantic expectations I’ve fabricated in my head.
More often than not, it ends in poor decisions and a very unappealing headache the next morning.
“You can’t pull another ‘I have to clean the shop’ today.” Lollie exclaims into the phone. “I will not let you stay chained to a store that has one to zero customers a day.” Her voice is exaggerated as if I’m at the end of my journey with this shop.
“Wow, that’s harsh,” I say under my breath.
I actually quite love this quiet shop, and Lollie knows that.
She gets desperate when trying to get me to play along with her shenanigans.
I toy with the stretchy spiral phone cord as I replay her words again.
I wonder if I will ever not get sucked into her go arounds.
“I know. But there comes a time when you need to listen to your best friend in the whole entire universe and have a night of forgetting. You can go back to remembering all your responsibilities tomorrow. Please Jade. For me?” I can almost see her pout through the receiving line, and I look up to the ceiling every bit as annoyed with her persistence.
“Ugh, fine,” I give in as I roll my eyes out of habit. My worst habits are always brought out with phone calls involving my dear friend, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Great, because I also just bought some super groovy dresses that need to be put to use!” Lollie throws in, knowing I love to dress up as much as I love going out.
Her eagerness for me to come out is palpable. It’s not her fault, though. There was a time when I couldn’t even get out of bed most days. To be honest, I think she keeps me busy so I don’t think about losing my mother too much. Other times I think she wants me to forget completely.
The months after losing my mother are ones I would like to forget, too. I’ve gotten much better. But the windows that haven’t been washed in weeks, and the shelves that sparkle with dust from the little light that comes into the shop through those same sad windows, say otherwise.
I put the phone down and shake my head with a lingering smirk on my face.
No matter how hard I try to stay in my comfortable hermit mode, Lollie always sways me out.
She is my day-one friend after all. And as much as I like to keep to myself, she seems to have wiggled her way into a permanent spot in my heart.
We grew up together during the most formative years of our lives.
The years when boys reigned supreme and the Ouija board was a must at every sleepover.
We were just coming into our own then. Caught between figuring out who we were and who we might be.
Sometimes, I find I’m still in the midst of figuring out both of those things.
Lollie’s mom died when she was a baby, and her dad, whom I never actually formally met, spent all his time working.
Because of that, Lollie basically lived at my house once we settled down in Detroit.
My mom treated her as her own, even though she was the sole reason I ever got in trouble.
She has a way of talking me into even the worst situations, and with that being said, tonight I will go be a part of her nightlife world.
If you follow the trail of muddy cat prints that line the floor behind the store register to a small white back door, you will find a tiny room that holds a variety of miscellaneous items. A catch all kind of place, you might say.
Within it sits a bunch of cleaning supplies, paperwork, and items for the shop that I have yet to research.
I pull out the broom and let the stiff bristles swipe against the hard floor.
Bits of dust plume into various cracks and crevices, never to be seen again.
Carya finds the warmest sun-soaked spot on the floor to curl up on, as the morning sun shines through the windows.
I place the broom against the wall next to her.
As calm as most days are here, I feel antsy.
An uneasiness stirs the air and sets me on edge like the scratching of tiny fingernails inside my belly.
Outside, the traffic picks up as the other building owners flick on their open signs.
It’s always busy in this city, with men in business suits and women trying to make themselves known in a world ruled by those said men.
That’s why I feel lucky to have this shop.
I don’t have to fight to prove my worth.
This shop and I just are. But I feel a collective stirring when I see women living up to their true potential and fighting for what’s theirs in this city that for years has discredited their voice.
My fingers feel for the switch to flip my neon sign to open, and wave to Ashton, who owns a pub across the street. He shoots a friendly wink my way while actively trying to prop his heavy bronze-framed door open. His smile shining through the gleam of the storefront glass.
Ashton set up his shop shortly after my mother and me.
He became a friend I never knew I needed.
The friend I found in him being so entirely opposite of Lollie.
Lollie is loud and wild, with sharp edges she softens with her charm, while Ashton’s sweet smile and warm understanding has kept me feeling comfortable and safe for many years.
Not far from the very ordinary cash register sits my most prized possession. My darling record player. Elenor Rigby by The Beatles works its way through the speakers. It is a solemn song, but that type is what my soul craves most days.
Once the music starts, the store darkens.
An overcast of clouds swims over the golden orb in the sky just as the two crows out my window squeak wildly.
I think I hear the echoing call of another bird, which seems out of place, but with the hustle of the streets it quickly gets drowned out.
The edgy feeling in my stomach strengthens.