That Girl
by Hidden Tala
Author's Notes: Anyone here who's crazy for Twilight like me?
Chapter 2: Lockjaw
He came back as he had promised.
The sweet old lady surprised him with the warmest hug which he returned awkwardly. The unexpected display of motherly affection caught him off guard that he felt an uncharacteristic heat flush through his pale cheeks. The old lady had to stifle a laugh when she realized his embarrassment.
"I thought you were just being nice when you said you'd come back," she was saying while she led him to what seemed like a large lounging area. "Feel at home, dear. I'll come back with a cup of tea. What do you prefer?"
"Jasmine," he answered with a small smile, sitting on one of the many comfortable couches.
He sighed, reveling in the presence of so many books. The lounging area, though it was still part of the bookstore, was filled with old, musty books that he thought weren't really for sale because they didn't have price tags. He liked the Victorian feel of the lounge with its old-fashioned couches and the quaint coffee tables, the imposing fireplace at the center, and the antique-like candleholder at the wall. It couldn't be seen in the windows because it was located at the far back. But it was certainly a nice place to stay in to read after buying the books out front.
"Here's your tea, dear," Mrs. Minami said, handing him a cup and saucer. "I didn't add anything."
"I like them bland. Thank you, Ma'am," he answered gratefully.
She shushed him with a wave of delicate hand. She told him to call her Mrs. Minami or Keiko if he was too bold to dare. He laughed, saying he wasn't feeling so brave lately and settled for the former.
"My husband and I used to teach at the local university," she explained, smiling at him. "When we retired two years ago, we opened this store and it's as if we were never out of the school at all. Most of our customers were our former students and they still call us Ma'am and Sir. It was endearing at first but it's gotten old."
"You've put this up only two years ago?" he asked, clearly surprised. "It feels like it's been here for ages. It has that homey atmosphere you don't usually feel in bookstores. And this lounge, it's heaven for writers like me."
"You can come by anytime you want, dear," she offered kindly. "And thank you. My husband and I really worked hard to make it a bit different than the other bookstores in town. We are both lovers of books and we only did what we thought was conducive for readers or anyone who would just want to relax. I'm glad you found our shop homey. We were kind of going for that."
He grinned and sipped from his cup.
"How's it going with your soul-searching? Did you find that something you wanted to find?"
He gave her a watery smile for the neat phrasing of words. He suddenly felt like smacking himself for being a sentimental fool.
"Actually, I think I have," he said uncertainly.
"Oh, really? What is it, then?"
He thought of that woman with the blackest hair, that woman who had too many books to carry on one rainy day. He thought of The Woman.
"A drug," he answered vaguely.
He saw the old lady scrunching her wrinkled nose. "I know that writers are entitled to have their own quirks. You're no Hemingway or Plath, I can see that. But drugs? Really, dear? Couldn't you be more inventive than that?"
He had to laugh at that.
"I'm sorry to disappoint, Madame. But no, I'm not a drug addict, an alcoholic or a suicidal case. I'm clean." He looked distant for a moment, weighing the words. "I found her. She's the cure."
"Oh, it's a person," she said, obviously relieved. "And it's a she? Interesting."
"Yes and-"
He was interrupted again by the sound of wind chimes flowing through the air. He sighed, a bit miffed at the interruption. The old lady gave him an apologetic smile before going at the front to greet the newcomer. He caught on a bit of their conversation which was about some Stephenie Meyer and a fourth book. He heard the old lady (was that a) giggle (?) at the newcomer's comment which made him squirm in his seat. Giggling and old ladies just don't go together in one sentence. It's impossible.
"Minami-sensei, are you sure they didn't change the date?" He heard the newcomer whine. "I can't believe I still have to wait for four months for the last installment. I swear I'm going to die of deprivation."
"Of what exactly, dear?" He heard the humor in the old lady's tone.
"Edward, of course!"
"Patience is virtue, dear," the old lady reminded gently. "Edward can wait."
He shifted in his seat to look at the newcomer. He only saw glimpses of long hair. He also didn't forget that it was black.
"Do you want coffee, dear?" the old lady offered.
"You should really change this bookstore to a cafe," the newcomer joked. "Your patrons only come here for the free coffee."
The old lady sighed dramatically. "You are right about that. Look at you for example."
The newcomer laughed that he involuntarily had to stand up to go for a look. "Yes, look at me. I have to drop off papers at the university so I'll have to pass. Maybe later? Oh, but I have that convention at four."
"You can come by anytime you want, dear," the old lady said which reminded him of the same offer she gave him earlier.
"Of course."
She was already by the door when he finally took a good look of her. But her back was turned to him. She was still a mass of black hair.
As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned and met his eye. He stared, frozen in place.
She was The Woman.
Her eyes, he realized, was a touch of lilac and mauve. Those eyes narrowed as if it recognized him. It flickered. He tried to open his mouth but he was lock-jawed. She turned. And the moment was over.