Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Henry
“Wuthering Heights is the epitome of romance! They’re in the MOORS and they’re so TORTURED and HORRIBLE and TRAGIC. No notes.”
—Ella’s Staff Pick
Everyone glamorized New York City, but no one talked about what it was like for the people with no friends.
I had what Ella called a “true weekend”: two days off in a row. She told me it was a great time to explore the city, but eating in Chinatown all by myself wasn’t as fun as I thought it’d be. So I spent my true weekend inside my own apartment, watching Friends to make up for my lack thereof.
I was young when I left the city. No doubt all the friends I made back then had forgotten about me. And what was I supposed to say? Hey man, haven’t seen you since we all started wearing deodorant for the first time. Want to grab a beer?
Besides, working at a bookstore was no joke.
I was lying on my grandfather’s couch, my feet elevated, with packs of frozen vegetables lying on my ankles because they were swollen.
I understood now why I’d seemed like such a dick for taking away those stools because now I was thinking they needed more.
Ella’s binder was nothing short of brilliant …
and maybe a little scary. I don’t know how she’d put it all together in a night (complete with pictures, a table of contents, and even footnotes).
Some of the ideas were really good—like bringing events back or charging book clubs a small fee to host their meetings in our event space.
Some were not—like emailing celebrities personally and asking for donations.
By lunch, I was tired of reading through the binder and realized I hadn’t spoken aloud all day. So to prove to Charlie I hadn’t succumbed to toxic masculinity, I asked if he’d be up for watching a movie together.
Charlie: Can’t, man. Got the Little League team tonight, then afterward Ava’s taking me to Waffle House to celebrate.
Henry: Y’all finally going on a date?
Charlie: WE’RE JUST FRIENDS. Are you finally leaving your apartment to make some of those in NYC?
Charlie: Sorry, that was mean.
Charlie: Progress isn’t always linear. (I read that in a book Ava recommended to me.)
Instead of going out into the real world, I started working through the list of books Ella sent me.
After I moved to Tennessee, I stopped reading as much.
It was something the three of us—my dad, grandfather, and I—all shared.
We even had a quasi-book club. When my dad was still around, we read middle-grade books, like Percy Jackson.
But when I got to high school, Leo and I continued the tradition.
We’d talk about East of Eden or The Da Vinci Code.
Even if I didn’t always like the books that we read, I loved reading them with Leo.
It a secret language between only the two of us, one that we’d never forget how to speak—until I grew up and pretended I had.
Reading had once been the reprieve from loneliness, but what was I supposed to do when it only reminded me of it even more?
I’d suffered through literature classes and read when necessary, but I couldn’t think of the last time I read a book for fun.
Ella’s list was exactly the kind that my grandfather would have given me. It ranged from nonfiction to picture books. My grandfather had most of them in his apartment, but I went to the library yesterday and made up the difference.
I had finished Frindle by Andrew Clements not too long ago and I was in the middle of Wuthering Heights. Emily Lickinson had begun to warm up to me and sat on my chest, purring contently.
“Guess I can’t talk to you about Heathcliff and Cathy, can I?” I muttered, rubbing behind her ear. So much of my reading life had been defined by picking up the phone and calling Leo. Working through the themes and our opinions together. I hated sitting here all alone with my thoughts.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I pulled my laptop off the coffee table and sat up.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:05 PM
Subject: This Can’t Be a Romance … Can It?
Sorry to email the store account, but I didn’t have any other email for you. I’m reading Wuthering Heights right now and it can’t be a romance, can it? They’re both horrible.
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:06 PM
No one looks at this email but me. Well, I guess I oughta give you access to it now, but it was always just Leo and me. I’ll send you the login but be warned there are a lot of emails from Bath & Body Works (I’m a sucker for a bath soap).
And of COURSE it’s a romance. They’re both horrible people, that’s what makes it romantic! No one else would be able to stand the other but each other. It’s twisted. Which only makes it hotter.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:11 PM
How are you answering your email? Aren’t you supposed to be working?
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:12 PM
We close soon and it’s slow. I’m logged into the store email on all the computers. My little sister, Maya, likes to email her boy drama so my mom doesn’t find it on her phone. Obviously, I need instant access to something so important. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got secrets.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:18 PM
Maybe you shouldn’t be using company time to send emails back and forth.
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:19 PM
Right, but aren’t you part of the company? So isn’t this technically a business email? Let’s just chalk it up to employee care.
And I don’t really think it’s appropriate for you to be this on my dick. Live a little, Henry.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:24 PM
I cannot believe you just told me to hop off your dick. Through your company email.
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:25 PM
And I really meant it.
Sounds like you’re working through the list, though. What else have you read?
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:25 PM
I’ve read a few of them. There’s not much to do in New York, so I’ve been hanging out in my apartment reading. I really liked What Lies Between.
I also read your binder, lots of really good ideas. What do you think about doing an event with the authors of that one? They’re local.
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:26 PM
THERE’S NOTHING TO DO IN NEW YORK? No offense but you’re not in butt fuck nowhere Tennessee anymore. You’ve got the entire world at your fingertips! Didn’t we talk about this on the train?
Also, YAY! Did you read all of the binder? I think we can find someone (a.k.a. Julie) to take over the events. There’s plenty of authors here in NYC and it’ll bring in some money.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:30 PM
First off, there’s plenty to do in “butt fuck Tennessee.” I live about an hour from Dollywood, a whole Dolly Parton based theme park. That’s probably better than Coney Island. Second off, I’m not New York’s biggest fan. Didn’t we talk about this on the train?
Re: the event, I like it. It won’t save us but could help us until we find a more long-term solution.
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:30 PM
I cannot believe you hate New York City.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:31 PM
Did my whole email not send?
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:33 PM
I’m in DISBELIEF. I gasped so loud that Mabel said I nearly made her fall over and break a hip. And with how old Mabel is, I actually could’ve.
If you don’t like New York, that’s a you problem. Probably means you’re not cut out for here.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:36 PM
You do know I was born here, right?
Back to events—should we talk to Julie tomorrow?
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:37 PM
I’ll get to the events in a sec. Listen, New York City is the greatest city in the world.
Plenty of people try to pass off random cities like Paris or Boston of all places as the greatest, but they’re wrong.
Nothing ever has or ever will compare to the magic of New York. I’m going to prove it to you.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:40 PM
How on Earth will you prove it to me?
From: lastpage@
To: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:41 PM
Give me some time to figure that out. But this is a necessity. If we’re going to try to save the store together, I’ll have to believe you’re not a total idiot. And you’re a total idiot if you hate New York. (Offense intended.)
And yeah, yeah, I hear you about the events. I’ll talk to Julie tomorrow.
Read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn next and if you still hate New York, I’d consider entering the witness protection program because your life will be in danger with these booksellers because everyone loves that book.
To: lastpage@
From: HenryMartin@
Monday, April 22, 7:44 PM
Always a pleasure chatting, Carmella.