“I hear your tone, and I resent it. Besides, I really like Page & Ink. My mom used to take me there before she decided I was a straight-up abomination.”
“Your mom doesn’t think you’re an abomination. She’s just... misguided.”
Em snorted. “You know what? Your mom’s taken me to Page & Ink too. Those are far better memories.”
Kester’s Coffee was across the street from Page & Ink. There wasn’t any traffic, and we pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes later.
“Do you want anything?” I asked Em.
“When I went to Scotland I had a scone with clotted cream. We don’t have clotted cream over here, so I can’t eat scones anymore,” Em said wistfully.
“So do you want... a muffin?” I asked.
“Maybe an iced tea?”
“Okay, weirdo. I’ll get you an iced tea.”
As per Aunt Helen’s letter, I got Clarice a small hot tea and a banana muffin. Then I got Em an iced tea and myself another banana muffin because they were the best banana muffins I’d ever had in my life. And then, on second thought, I got Em a banana muffin because she always said she didn’t want anything and then she ate half of whatever I got.
We ate our muffins and shared Em’s iced tea in the parking lot as I worked up the courage to drive across the street.
I wasn’t sure why I felt nervous about seeing Clarice, but I could feel a tight knot in my stomach, a growing uncertainty that didn’t seem to go away, no matter how delicious the banana muffins were.
“We should go over,” Em said when we’d finished eating. “Her tea’s going to get cold.”
I started the car and drove to Page & Ink’s parking lot. Clarice was outside, sweeping off the front walkway. When she heard the car, Clarice turned around and shielded her eyes with her hand, then waved when she saw it was us. She dropped the broom and headed over to the car.
Clarice had achondroplasia, the most common formof dwarfism. I knew this because she’d taken the time to explain it to me on one of my first visits. I still remember how happy she was, how she’d told my aunt that children were her favorite questioners, because they were completely honest and devoid of any judgment.
My favorite thing about Page & Ink was that it had one of those old-fashioned ladders you see in all the movies, the kind that rolled on a track along the perimeter of the store. This was mostly for practicality, Clarice said, but it was a bonus that it was really, really cool.
“Lottie!” Clarice said, hugging me the second I got out of the car. “I’ve been thinking about you all week. I wanted to come to the party last night, but I’ve never been one for dancing. Your aunt would have understood.” She pulled away and held both of my hands in hers, looking into my eyes as her own glossed over with tears. “Oh, your aunt. I’ve sold more copies ofAlvinthan I can even count this week. Been ordering all of them like crazy. Can’t keep ’em on the shelves. I put a picture of the two of us on the register, and people just burst into tears looking at it. Just start bawling.” She paused and touched the ends of my hair, pinching a few strands between her fingers. “Oh, Lottie. I miss her so much.”
“I miss her too, Clarice.”
“But enough sadness. I can’t handle any more sadness.”
“We have happiness for you! Happiness in the form of tea and banana muffins!” Em said, skipping around the carand handing Clarice her snack.
“Em! With blue hair! I didn’t even recognize you, but you look divine. You girls are too sweet for this,” Clarice said, beaming as she took the tea and paper bag from Em. “Come on, come in!”
We followed Clarice into the store, and she settled herself into place behind her desk so she could eat. She waved us away to browse and instructed us to yell if we needed anything.
I could stay in a bookstore forever. My mother had never been that big of a reader, but my father and Aunt Helen were never without a book in their hands. Aunt Helen wrote the first Alvin Hatter book when she’d finished every piece of literature in her house and found it was too late in the day to go and buy more.
“It was the best misfortune I ever suffered,” she told me once. “Alvin was born out of the deepest boredom and a desperate longing for new words.”
Em and I wandered around Page & Ink for hours. I left Em in the fantasy section (as much as she hated reading, I couldn’t count how many times she’d flown throughLord of the Rings, and she was one of the few people on earth who’d actually finishedThe Silmarillion) and took myself on a tour of the children’s section, touching the spines of every book and wondering how many of them my aunt had read. Of course all six of the Alvin Hatters were there, just a few copies left of each. I had all the editions, everynew set of covers they came out with, and it still didn’t feel like enough. I always found myself wanting more. I knew how weird that was.
Fulfilling Aunt Helen’s instructions, I bought seven books. Clarice slid them all into a paper bag, and I could tell she was trying not to cry as she handed it to me. At first she refused to take any money for them, but I explained about Aunt Helen’s instructions and she finally relented.
“Just like her, to send you here,” she said. “What a woman, huh?”
We hugged good-bye over the counter, and Em and I went out to the car.
We sat there for a long time before I started the engine. Em looked through the books I’d chosen, and when she was done, she asked, “Is it nice? Or is it hard? Having to do all these things she asked you to.”
“It’s both, I guess,” I said. “It kind of feels like she’s still here, which is nice. But she’s not here. So I’m not sure it’s the best idea to keep pretending.”
