Chapter 11
chapter eleven
Busy
The tinkling of the bell has me spinning where I stand, and I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face at the sight of Reid, dressed in a pair of joggers and a tight cotton tee, walking through the door.
“Wow, this place looks great!” he enthuses, his eyes tracking over all the work that has gone into getting the shop in shape over the past few weeks. He points at the leaves on the ceiling. “You seriously painted all of this?”
I nod, my eyes following his around the room, trying to see everything from his vantage point. He stands smack in the middle, staring up at the ceiling, taking in the large leaves Briar agreed to—and that took me many, many hours and created a little pinch in the back of my neck that I can still feel when I think about it—his mouth slightly open.
“You’re incredibly talented.”
I roll my eyes, trying not to let his words carve too deeply into my chest.
“They’re just leaves.”
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do something like that. Don’t downplay your talent when you’ve clearly worked very hard at it.”
Okay, so maybe I let those words trickle through the heart of me.
“I really like the vibe. It feels like…a fairytale forest.”
I beam at him. “That’s what I said! Briar was talking about making it feel like you’re hunting for books, and I said those exact words, fairytale forest.”
He continues strolling around, examining the special plant holders we finally got installed on Friday, a variety of live hanging plants peppering the room. Boston ferns and English ivy, philodendrons and string of hearts. It has really brought this place to life.
Now, all that’s left are the books.
Once Reid has finished snooping around, we get to work on the final boxes that need to be shelved. It’s primarily thriller and fantasy/sci-fi that remain, and I take a few minutes to explain to Reid how we’re organizing things before we get started. Then, I turn on some music and we get moving.
We’re mostly silent over the next two hours, though I do regular check-ins to see how things are going. It’s not every day someone gives up his Sunday afternoon to help you shelve books, and I can’t help but feel pleased at the fact that he’s doing it for me.
Or for Briar. Or the community. I shouldn’t assume it’s about me. Right?
After three hours, we finally finish, and we head to Ugly Mug for a caffeine boost and a pastry to celebrate.
“Thanks again for all your help,” I say as we take a seat at a table in the corner. “It would have taken me all day to do it on my own.”
Reid shrugs. “Not a problem. Glad I could help.”
“And thanks for inviting Junie and me on the hike yesterday, too. She’s been talking about it almost non-stop. I think you’ve officially converted her into a hiking girly.”
He grins. “Good. Glad to know I’m having a good influence.”
“Absolutely. And on me, too. I was on the fence at first, but it was actually really great to wander around in the woods for a bit.”
Reid chuckles. “You say that like you weren’t sure you were going to enjoy it.”
I shrug. “Sometimes you get out of the habit of doing something you love, remember?” I tell him, calling back to our conversation a few weeks ago. “It’s just been a long time.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I understand how you feel. It’s exactly how I felt when I jumped into the lake on Friday.”
I can’t help the pleased smile that stretches across my face. “Really?”
He nods. “Yeah. I think I’ve been avoiding swimming because I’m afraid of accepting that I’m not the same swimmer I used to be. That as I get older, my body will struggle to achieve the things it used to excel at.”
“But I think that’s some of what makes a hobby so special, right?” I reply. “It isn’t about being excellent , it’s just about the joy.”
I know it sounds cheesy, and if I had to guess, he’s trying not to roll his eyes at me right now. But it really is the truth.
“So I guess what I’m trying to say is…don’t be so hard on yourself. You know? Just get in the water.”
He studies his coffee for a minute, his large hands engulfing his cup, before he looks at me again. “And what’s your water?”
My head tilts to the side in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, based on this conversation, it originally sounded like hiking was your love, the thing you’ve been avoiding. But somehow I don’t feel like that’s true.”
“Oh,” I say, shaking my head firmly. “No, definitely not hiking. It’s art.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Yeah. I got my degree in photography with a focus in mixed media, so…taking photos and paint and oil and pretty much anything and combining them all together to create something completely unique.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing.”
“It’s really fun, and there is just…so much you can do with it. For a long time, my goal was to create pieces that sell in galleries, have a dedicated studio space to create things that inspire me.”
I wanted to be a household name, maybe even be the kind of photographer that would be showcased in the gallery next door to the bookstore. That’s where I originally got my inspiration from. I used to stare at the pieces hanging in the window for long minutes any time I was downtown, envisioning mine in their place, trying to manifest for myself the kind of success that gets you into a position where galleries carry your work.
But…life doesn’t always go to plan.
“Then I had Junie,” I continue. “And I don’t regret it for a second, I just want to make sure I’m super clear about that. She is…the best thing to ever happen to me. She absolutely changed my life in the best ways, has made me a better person.”
“But?”
I want to laugh at how easily he saw that there was something else, something I didn’t say.
“But…” I add, “choosing my daughter meant I had to let go of a part of myself. The part of me that was willing to take the big risks to become that creator, to make a name for myself. So maybe…maybe that’s my water. Taking risks. It’s not about the photography, necessarily, it’s about throwing myself into it with all my passion and energy. Now, I give those things to my daughter instead. I can’t afford to take big risks, because who knows how that will impact her life in the long run.”
We’re silent for a few minutes, and I wonder if I might have been too honest, too vulnerable about the realities of what it’s like to be a single mom, the sacrifices you have to make.
But when Reid speaks again, he surprises me.
“So…get in the water.”
I laugh. “What?”
He leans forward, a brightness in his eyes that draws me in.
“There has to be something you can do. Something small, something simple. You don’t have to risk everything in order to risk something , right?”
I want to shake my head, almost by default, want to shut down his words before they take hold, take root.
“I mean, I don’t get into the water to swim in competitions anymore. I haven’t in years. But I jumped back in and it felt magical, made me feel more like me than I’ve felt in quite a while. Maybe it’s the same for you. Maybe you need to take a tiny risk with art in some way—painting, photography, whatever—something just slightly out of your comfort zone, to feel like yourself again.”
I mull over his words, trying to sort them into the space in my head where I categorize things based on priority. Junie is in the top box, because she’s the most important. Everything else is kind of scattered beneath that, taking precedence only in the moment when it feels urgent.
But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I need to be more intentional about how I prioritize the things in my life that aren’t about Junie, the things that are just…me.
“I actually think…you might be right,” I finally say as we’re getting up a while later and stepping out onto Main Street. “Maybe I do just need to try something small. I have literally no idea what that might look like. But…thanks, Reid. Seriously.”
He nods, that same brightness in his eyes that was there earlier coming back as he watches me. “Any time, Busy. Any time.”
The next few days pass in a blink. Briar and I are hustling around getting final things ready for the store opening on the Fourth, setting out all the cute decorations and printing off the signage to go up around town. Now that all the shelves and books are in their permanent positions, I hop up on a ladder to add some last-minute paint flourishes to the walls to really make the forest vibe pop.
All the while, the stuff Reid said at Ugly Mug on Sunday is percolating in the back of my mind, ideas for how I might get myself back into the creative space I love and miss so much. When I got pregnant with Junie, I knew my whole life was going to change, but I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d be giving up in order to put her first. Gone are the days when I could lie in bed all morning, thinking about the projects I was working on, imagining all the different things that would go into bringing the picture in my mind to life.
Now, I’m lucky to have the time to look at art, let alone create it myself. My brother Bishop’s fiancée is an artist, too—she does ceramics—and I’m pretty sure snooping through her social media posts has become my own personal masochism. I could only wish to have the kind of time she has to pursue the passions that fill my heart.
When I finally graduated—a full year after the cohort I began with my freshman year—I knew that was it, knew I’d need to set my camera on the shelf and admire it from afar, maybe pick it up here or there to take pictures of our family. I knew I wouldn’t have the time to do anything larger than that.
Another stark reality is, even though Briar is paying me well, and even though I have free childcare, I’m still struggling to keep my head above water. My student loans are looming, the amount absolutely staggering when considering the fact that I’m now working at a bookstore for an hourly wage, and the cost of raising a child is far more than I think anyone understands when they’re preparing to have a baby. Just thinking about my financials—something I’ve always been horrible at managing—makes my throat tight and my palms sweaty.
But Reid’s right. There has to be something I can do that pushes me back into a creative space that doesn’t rob me of all my time and money.
I just have to figure out…what.
“I can’t believe we’re opening tomorrow morning.”
I nod, exhausted and completely spent, knowing the anxiousness I feel about it probably pales in comparison to Briar’s. She’s been dreaming of opening a bookstore—something this town has always lacked—since she was a teenager, volunteering at the library.
We’re lying on the floor in the middle of the store, staring at the leaves on the ceiling, knowing we still have a few things to get done but in desperate need of a break.
“And I really can’t believe there aren’t any more books to shelve. You must have come in for hours on Sunday to get that done.”
Briar rolls to the side and wraps her arm around me, the moment uncharacteristic of my sister, who tends to keep her emotions close to the vest.
“Thank you. For all your hard work,” she says, her voice soft. “I hope you know how much it means to me.”
I lift my hands and rest them over Briar’s, patting them gently.
“As much as I’d like to take the credit, I had some help. It wasn’t all me.” I turn my head so I’m looking at her. “But it did take forever , even with two people.”
Briar smiles. “Really? Who helped you? I need to get them a bottle of wine or something.”
“Reid Cohen.”
When my sister is quiet for a long moment, I look her way, finding her watching me with a curious expression. But when she opens her mouth, nothing comes out.
“What?” I say, chuckling lightly. “Do you not want him…touching your books or something?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” she says, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Are you guys like…dating?”
“Definitely not.”
My response comes out firm, and maybe a little more intense than I mean it to, and Briar’s smile dims. “Oh, okay. Just curious.”
I sit up, tugging the hair band off my wrist and pulling my hair up into a messy mop at the top of my head, trying not to think too hard about Briar’s question.
“Well, if you did decide to date him, you should know…”
I glance at Briar as she sits up next to me, wondering what kind of bomb she’s about to drop on my lap. What did he do? Something horrible? Is he an asshole in disguise? It would make sense considering the shitty men I’ve dealt with in the past.
“…he’s actually one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever known.”
My brow furrows, surprise rippling through me.
“Maybe a bit old for you, but”—Briar shrugs—“Bellamy and Rusty have a similar age difference and they’re doing just fine. And my guess is you need a man with more life experience and maturity.”
“I didn’t realize you and Reid were friends.”
Briar shakes her head. “Reid was a year ahead of me in school. He was on the swim team, so he was friendlier with Boyd’s crowd, you know? The athletic types. But teenage boys can be dicks, so it’s hard not to notice the nice ones.”
I snort. “It doesn’t really change as you get older.”
My sister rolls her eyes and pushes up so she’s standing then holds her hand out toward me. “You are so right. Unfortunately.”
Briar gives me a tug and I pop up then glance around at the trash scattered on the floor that we still need to pick up—empty tape dispensers, cardboard boxes, tons of plastic and cellophane—knowing we probably have another hour of work before we get to call it a night. Or at least when I get to call it a night. Not sure about Briar, though.
“We haven’t really talked about guys at all,” Briar says, her tone cautious as we begin breaking down the cardboard boxes. “Or even that much about Junie’s dad.”
“No need to start now,” I reply, giving her a cheesy smile.
“Oh, come on. That’s no fun.”
I pin her with a look. “Talking about all the ways men let you down is never fun.”
That shuts her up, and honestly I don’t even feel that bad because the last thing I want to do is talk about Jay with Briar. My sister dated a horrible man before she met her husband, so it might seem normal to gab with her about toxic men and the things they do that drive us insane. But Briar ended up falling in love with and marrying a man who treats her like a fucking queen, whereas I am going to be alone and loveless for the better part of the next two decades. It doesn’t feel quite tit for tat.
“I’m sorry for bringing up Jay,” Briar says as we’re pushing out of Happily Ever After and onto Main Street once we’ve finished up. “You’ve said before you don’t want to talk about him, and I should have respected that boundary instead of being nosy.”
I shake my head, watching as she locks the front door then gives it a tug for good measure.
“You don’t have to apologize, Briar. You weren’t being nosy, you were being…a sister.”
Her lips tilt up at the sides, and she loops her arm in mine as we walk down the street, heading toward where both of us have our cars parked in the lot at the end of the block that’s reserved for Main Street shop employees.
“Can I ask you one more thing and then I promise I’ll drop it?” she asks once we’ve come to a stop behind my car.
Sighing, I nod, knowing I’ll probably regret it.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to date Reid? I mean…I feel like you guys would be so cute together.”
Licking my lips, I can’t help but let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Reid and I are just friends, Briar. I’ve told you that.”
“Right, but…I mean, that doesn’t mean it couldn’t become something more, right? I bet he’d be an amazing dad. Are you not attracted to him?”
At that, I laugh again, shaking my head. “That is definitely not the problem,” I reply, maybe a bit more honestly than I should.
I think back to that night when Reid and I almost kissed, to the night where I thought about him in the shower. Mixed in with those memories are the ones of him with Junie in the lake, eating mac and cheese with us against his better judgment, the hike, sitting on the patio drinking wine together.
Of course I’m attracted to Reid. Of course it would be amazing to have a man like him to wake up to every day, to be a father to Junie, a partner to me.
But life isn’t a fairy tale. Forevers are hard to come by, and I knew long ago—maybe even before Junie—that it probably wouldn’t happen for me. It’s safer to just accept that. For both of us.
“It’s just…not a good idea, Briar,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, not wanting to get into all that. “And that needs to be good enough.”
Her eyes search mine for a long minute before she nods. “Alright. That’s fair.”
Then she reaches out and tugs me in for a hug.
“But you do deserve a happily ever after, Busy. Everyone does,” she says before pulling back to look at me. “It took me a long time to learn that lesson, and I hope one day, you learn to believe it, too.”