The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry(45)

Mary goes back to the dorm room. She packs up a bag for the baby. She puts a stuffed Elmo in the bag. A girl from down the hall comes into Mary’s room.

“Hey Mary, where are you going?”

Mary smiles brightly. “I thought I would take a trip to the beach,” she says. “The baby loves the beach.”

“Isn’t it a little cold for the beach?” the girl asks.

“Not really,” Mary says. “The baby and I will wear our warmest clothes. Plus the beach is really nice in the winter.”

The girl shrugs. “I guess.”

“When I was a little girl, my dad used to take me to the beach all the time.”

Mary drops off the envelope at the babysitter’s dorm. At the train station, she uses her credit card to buy tickets for the train and boat that go to Alice Island.

“You do not need a ticket for the baby,” the ticket taker tells Mary.

“Good,” Mary says.

When she gets to Alice Island, the first place Mary sees is a bookstore. She goes inside so that she and the baby can warm up. A man is at the counter. He has a grumpy demeanor and he wears Converse sneakers.

Christmas music is playing in the store. The song is “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

“This song makes me so sad,” a customer says. “This is the saddest song I have ever heard. Why would anyone write such a sad Christmas song?”

“I’m looking for something to read,” Mary says.

The man gets slightly less grumpy. “What kind of books do you like?”

“Oh, all kinds, but my favorite kind of book is the kind where a character has hardships but overcomes them in the end. I know life isn’t like that. Maybe that is why it is my favorite thing.”

The bookseller says that he has the perfect thing for her, but by the time he gets back, Mary is gone. “Miss?”

He leaves the book on the counter just in case Mary decides to come back.

Mary is on the beach, but the baby is not with her.

She used to swim on a swim team. She was good enough to win the state championships in high school. That day, the waves are choppy and the water is cold, and Mary is out of practice.

She swims out, past the lighthouse, and she doesn’t swim back.





THE END


“Congratulations,” Maya tells John Furness at the reception. She is clutching her rolled-up T-shirt in her hand. Amelia has Maya’s certificate: third place.

John shrugs and his hair flops back and forth. “I thought you should have won, but it’s pretty cool them picking two stories from Alicetown as finalists.”

“Maybe Mr. Balboni is a good teacher.”

“We can split my gift certificate if you want,” John says.

Maya shakes her head. She doesn’t want it that way.

“What would you have bought?”

“I was going to give it to charity. To underprivileged kids.”

“Seriously?” He does his newscaster voice.

“My dad doesn’t really like us to shop online.”

“You aren’t angry at me, are you?” John says.

“No. I’m happy for you. Go Whales!” She punches him on the shoulder.

“Ow.”

“I’ll see you around. We’ve got to catch the auto ferry back to Alice.”

“So do we,” John says. “There’s plenty of time for us to hang out.”

“My dad has things to do at the store.”

“See you at school,” John says in the newscaster voice again.

In the car on the way home, Amelia congratulates Maya for placing and for writing an amazing story, and A.J. says nothing.

Maya thinks that A.J. must be disappointed in her, but just before they get out of the car, he says, “These things are never fair. People like what they like, and that’s the great and terrible thing. It’s about personal taste and a certain set of people on a certain day. For instance, two out of the three finalists were women, which might have tipped the scales toward the male. Or maybe one of the judges’ grandmothers died last week, which made that story particularly effective. One never knows. But here is what I do know. ‘A Trip to the Beach’ by Maya Tamerlane Fikry was written by a writer.” She thinks he’s about to hug her, but instead he shakes her hand, the way he would greet a colleague—perhaps an author visiting the store.

A sentence occurs to her: The day my father shook my hand, I knew I was a writer.

JUST BEFORE THE school year ends, A.J. and Amelia make an offer on a house. The house is about ten minutes away from the store and inland. Although it does have four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and the quiet A.J. believes a young writer needs to work, the house is no one’s idea of a dream house. The last owner had died there—she hadn’t wanted to leave, but she hadn’t done much to maintain the house in the last fifty or so years either. The ceilings are low; there are several different eras of wallpaper to be stripped; the foundation is shaky. A.J. calls it the “in ten years house” meaning that “in ten years, it might be livable.” Amelia calls it “a project” and she sets herself to working on it immediately. Maya, having recently made her way through The Lord of the Rings trilogy, names it Bag End. “Because it looks as if a hobbit might live here.”