Page 4 of Hate It with You

Taking a deep breath, I’m also reminded that I still need to find a way to get rid of the burnt coffee smell and whatever else I’m smelling. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s close to turning rancid, the smell a surefire way to repel any new customers walking through the door.

Next to the counter are two large wood tables I’ve sourced, also from a thrift store, to house more books since I couldn’t afford the full fifteen shelves I originally wanted. The multitude of boxes of books I’ve ordered to fill my shop arrive next week, and it’s fair to say that I’m nowhere near prepared.

The one thing that’s worked out for me so far is the absolute steal of a deal I got on this building. Not only did rent come at a heavily discounted price, but the apartment upstairs was included. On top of that, when I saw that Wi-Fi and utilities were included, I thought there must be a catch.

Thankfully, there hasn’t been one.

The building itself isn’t in the best shape. I have a long list of things I need to fix around the shop and my apartment, but I refuse to call the landlord. I’ll be damned if I do anything to jeopardize my lease agreement or give the landlord a reason to increase my rent.

Also, I haven’t technically met the landlord yet.

Last summer, after college graduation, my best friend Sienna and I went on a lake house vacation to help her secure a job. While I wasn’t too keen on the idea of staying with four grown men at their family lake house, I went along after she gave me no choice. Though I’d never let her go alone anyway. Given my past, there’s no way I’d let her put herself in danger.

Long story short, she ended up falling in love with the youngest of the Kane brothers, Theo, and in the process, I found this place.

Theo knows the owner and was able to hook me up with a lease agreement. He swore that the owner was a good person and he’s known them for a very long time. I figured I could trust Theo, so I signed the lease agreement after falling in love with the place.

After months of searching for the perfect home for my bookstore, I knew nothing would beat this, especially not at the price he was offering me.

I officially got the keys in December and have been working hard to piece together this old building for my bookstore since then. It was only last month that I moved into the apartment upstairs once Sienna’s and my lease expired, and she moved in with Theo.

It’s odd not living with her. Having known Sienna since kindergarten, we’ve been inseparable since. I’m happy for her, though learning to live alone has been an adjustment.

Sienna has been to visit a few times, even helping me pick out the rug for the entryway. Her new job at Rose City Designs, working for Graham Emerson, has her putting in a lot more hours than she anticipated, but I’m happy for her. It’s strange not seeing her every day, but I know she’s happy, and that’s not something I’d want to take away. Not to mention, I can shower whenever I want to now. No longer having to live by her strict shower schedule has been a nice change of pace.

Taking another look outside, I find the parking lot is once again empty on a Friday night with the exception of my small sedan parked in front of the doors. Theo said the landlord owns the place next door and lives in the apartment upstairs, but I haven't seen them in the last month.

It’s strange, but I don’t think much of it. I’m sure I’ll meet them eventually. Besides, it’s not like I’m looking to make any more friends. Sienna has always been enough for me, and when she’s not around, I’m perfectly happy with the company of my books.

A twinge of pain runs through my chest when my mind floats back to the several boxes of books currently piled in my living room that I’ve yet to unpack. With so much to do in the shop, I’ve only had a chance to set up my bed, unpack a few utensils, and load my shower with the necessities. One of these nights I’ll unpack my personal collection.

Although one glance at the bookshelf parts lying in front of me tells me tonight is not that night.

The rug squishes beneath my knees as I rise to my feet, lifting the bookshelf to its full height after screwing in the last piece. Now standing, I stretch my limbs, a few wavy strands of my hair falling from my messy bun, tickling the line of earrings I have on my ear. Readjusting my sweatshirt and fixing the wedgie my leggings have given me, I make my way to the front of the store, then step back to look at my work. My hands rest on my hips as I stare at the final bookshelf I’ve built.

A faint smile overtakes me, my body too tired for anything more. I give myself a silent pat on the back as I look at the bookshelf standing tall, slightly less crooked than the others. Though I’m still convinced that any imbalances with the shelves have more to do with the material itself and not my tool-wielding abilities.

I’ve helped plenty of ex-lovers, both women and the occasional man, build enough furniture to know how to use a tool properly. I guess that’s what I get for going with the cheapest option I could find.

Though my strict diet of ramen noodles tells me I didn’t have much of a choice.

Tucking a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear, my attention is brought to how greasy it’s become, my scalp begging for a good wash. My stomach growls, fighting for attention as it sends a not-so-subtle reminder of how negligent I’ve become of my own needs in the past twelve hours.

When the bookshelves arrived this morning, I ran downstairs to pull them inside. Morning tea in hand and a half-eaten donut held between my teeth, I got to work building them. I was convinced I’d finish by lunch.

Turning around, I stare out into the empty parking lot. The sun has long set behind the horizon, painting the sky a dark blue, with a single streetlamp the only source of light in the open area. My stomach growls again, and I decide to give in to my body’s demands. Not only have I not showered, but I haven’t eaten since I finished the donut. My body is currently taking its revenge as a result.

Deciding to close up for the night, I begin to close the blinds. I probably should’ve closed them sooner, but I was afraid if I stopped before the bookshelf was done, I’d never finish.

When I move toward the other window, I notice a small slip of paper blowing in the wind outside. It’s wedged just between the crack of the door, the white slip shining bright under the glow of the two small lights on either side of the door.

Unlocking the door, I’m slow to open it, carefully grabbing the paper without it falling. Seems strange as I haven’t noticed anyone come by with the exception of a few people going in and out of the building next door today.

Not wanting to keep my body waiting for much longer, I throw the slip of paper in my pocket, deciding I’ll read it later. For all I know, it could be a bill or a notice from the landlord about my music volume. Neither of which I’d like to deal with at the moment.

Once the blinds are closed, I double-check the door is locked, pulling on the handle a few times just to be sure. Installing extra locks is one item on the list of things that need fixing around here, and I hope I can get to it soon.

Walking through the staggered bookshelves strewn about my bookshop, I round the tables next to the checkout counter, heading toward the back room door. I hit the lights as I do so, painting the shop in the dark.