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Dressed in a black skirt that reaches her knees, a cream-colored T-shirt, and a green cardigan, the woman looks like I imagine a grandmother who spoils her grandchildren would look. Mainly because she is small and curved, like the kind old ladies in cartoons.
“They’re beautiful,” I agree. “I was telling this story to my sister the other day.” I point to the illustration of a princess lying on a pile of mattresses that is displayed in the window.
“The princess and the pea?”
“Yes,” I reply with laughter when I remember Raquel’s reaction to the story.
“How about taking the illustration as a gift to her?”
“Oh, I don't have any money,” I say, honestly. “And she would hate it,” I confess, and I can't help but laugh. “Raquel hated the story.” The old lady looks at me in surprise for a second before laughing along with me.
“That's a really bad story,” she says, making me laugh more. “I prefer Beauty and the Beast.”
“Would you believe I felt a little like Belle when I walked in here? These shelves are incredible.” I wave towards the end of the store and the woman gives me a proud smile.
“This store has been in my family for over eighty years, it belonged to my father, he opened it when he arrived in Brazil, from France, in the late forties. We have some of the oldest books in Brazil, you know? We also have other antique objects on the counter.” She points to what I thought was just for customer service and I notice that, in fact, they are a differenttype of showcase window. “It's mine now, but I'm already old, so I consider it my son's, even if he's a little lazy.” It's my turn to laugh at her honesty. “Come on,” she says, already walking ahead of me. “Looking is free,” she announces, without giving me the chance to disagree.
I look back at the exit door, but I would feel extremely rude if I just left after being treated so well and, well, I really wanted to see what the rest of the store was like. Letting out a sigh I cross the hallway.
The high shelves I had seen are even bigger up close, they stretch all the way to the ceiling, crammed with books that look old and, considering what the woman said, rare. I didn't know that a room empty of people could make me feel small and insignificant, until now.
I walk slowly through the shelves, admiring the old covers and reading the titles, without the courage to touch them. God forbid I mess up one of these and, unlucky as I am, it's very likely to happen.
A feeling of peace and tranquility invades me, as if I were in a place apart from the chaotic world that my life has always been. I feel grateful to have found this place and promise myself to return in the future. I don't do many things for myself, but I'll do this, I decide.
The lighting is soft, with discreet neon lights that illuminate the shelves. I stop in the middle of them and look at the ceiling, it seems unreal that it could be this high in a store in the middle of the Saara.[39] I could live here, I know. Jumping from place to place, knowing all the possibilities that the pages organized on these shelves could offer me.
I don't know how much time I spend walking through the shelves, lost in thought, completely forgetting that I'm not alone.When this realization hits me and I look for the old lady, I find her watching me, from behind her counter, with a mysterious expression on her face.
“Your store is beautiful!” I say awkwardly and smile.
“You really think so. I could see it on your face.”
“I do.”
“My name is Magda,” she introduces herself.
“I’m Gabriella.”
I approach the counter, through the glass I notice several objects that look old, some shiny like brooches and earrings. Others, just old ones, all very beautiful.
My eyes lock on one in particular, a metal rose painted with nail polish. Its petals are red, but its stem, thorns and leaves are black. I can't stop looking at it, wondering how it was possible for them to turn such a dark shade. Magda notices my interest, reaches behind the counter, and takes the object.
“Do you like it?” She places what I discover to be a brooch on the counter.
“It's beautiful!”
“It's yours” she declares after a few minutes of silence, scaring me literally and figuratively. My eyes widen, and I look up from the counter to the woman's plump, fair-skinned face.
“What? No! I can't pay for this, Magda.”
“I didn't ask you if you could pay,” she says with as much simplicity as everything else she's said to me in the minutes that have passed since we met. “I said it's yours.” I stand still, with my mouth open and silent for a while.
“I can't accept it, I'm very grateful, really. But I can't accept it. I don't even know how much it's worth, I just know I could never pay it back.” Magda clicks her tongue.
“It's just a silly brooch, girl. It's worth very little or almost nothing, unless a spendthrift tourist decides to visit my store in the mood to spend money for nothing. Then, this brooch and all the others in the showcase transform into artifacts from the era of the empire.” She winks at me and laughs loudly again. My God, this is absurd! This woman is absurd. “You said you felt like Belle in my store, take the rose, it will bring you luck,” she guarantees, already lifting the brooch and attaching it to my worn-out t-shirt.
I think about denying it once again, but what would be the point? Magda won't miss it and I don't remember when was the last time I received a gift. I accept, with all my heart.
