Confessions of a Curious Bookseller(81)
Fawn, Owner
From: Jack Grisby
Sent: Mon, Jul 8, 2019 at 8:45 AM
To: Fawn Birchill
Re: Coyotes
Fawn,
Maybe they were coy dogs or just half wild dogs though I don’t know the difference between them and then also wolves do you? I’m still freaking out a little today from it sorry if I seem adgitated.
Jack
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Mon, Jul 8, 2019 at 9:01 AM
To: Jack Grisby
Re: Coyotes
Jack,
Coyotes are coyotes, and coydogs are the children of coyotes and domesticated dogs. Don’t quote me on that, but I’m fairly certain it’s true. I grew up in the suburbs, and we sometimes heard them at night. I promise you: they are neither in Center City nor in Philadelphia at all. Are you this scared of regular dogs as well?
Fawn, Owner
From: Jack Grisby
Sent: Mon, Jul 8, 2019 at 9:05 AM
To: Fawn Birchill
Re: Coyotes
Yes because when I was three a mastiff bit me on the face when my mom said I should say hi to it. That’s why I have the scar on my chin which I hate but my dad says it makes me look like Harrison Ford.
Jack
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Mon, Jul 8, 2019 at 9:10 AM
To: Jack Grisby
Re: Coyotes
Jack,
The mastiff was probably just as scared of you as you were of it. The only reason it bit your face was because you frightened it. I don’t understand why your mother thought it was a good idea to have a three-year-old crawl up to a full-grown mastiff, but that’s probably why I am not a parent.
That scar makes you look tough, by the way. I wouldn’t be shy about it.
Fawn, Owner
July 8, 2019
Jane’s daughter just left. Needless to say, she paid me only a brief visit, announcing that thieves have been robbing her mother of her belongings. Of course, Jane and I acted shocked the entire time. The woman can be quite the actress when she needs to be. I talked her daughter out of calling the police, stating that it’s hard to say how long ago the criminals were here. I wanted to tell her that this is what happens when you live thousands of miles away from your helpless mother and never visit, but I decided to keep it civil. Jane is a most excellent liar because the only thing she lamented missing were her aloe plants. I could tell that it was a manipulation to make the whole thing more believable and to distract her daughter from the greater losses, like the furniture. Her daughter became angry with this and rightfully so. I managed to get two hundred for the end table, and she decides to focus on a few crummy plants! I could barely contain my laughter. Clearly she was getting a lot of joy from seeing her daughter like that, so I just stood back and tried not to burst out laughing. Another thing: her daughter, ever the detective, wanted to know what robbers wanted with aloe plants and Richard Simmons tapes. I told her that maybe it was a band of geriatric thieves from the nursing home on Market Street. Perhaps they sneak out at night, don black eye masks, and steal the elderly’s pills, VHSs, and whatever else old people like. Her daughter said that I had been watching too many cop dramas. I actually don’t own a television. I watch everything on my Dell desktop downstairs, and I’ve never been interested in cop dramas. Needless to say, the tension wasn’t broken by any humor.
One thing I did tell her was that if she was so concerned about her mother, then she should take care of her in Hawaii—an idea I quickly regretted communicating, as her rent is the only thing saving me from bankruptcy and, admittedly, I have grown to like her company very much. Nearly every night when I’m not too exhausted, I’ll poke my head in to check on her and sometimes end up sitting with her for a couple of hours, playing games or watching television. We don’t talk much, and I think we both prefer that.
I haven’t seen Rainbow in a few days. She insists on no interruptions while she perfects her most “shocking and inspiring illusion to date.” Still, I knock to see if she is at least alive, which she is always quick to confirm. I don’t want to annoy her, but with all the fire tricks, limb removal, and orifice extraction, naturally I worry.
Ian McEwan is officially not interested in coming to my bookstore, but his representative said he might stop by if he has time. I will have to send out an advertisement letting people know just in case he stops by that week. That should lure in a few wallets.
July 8
Dear Fawn,
Enclosed please find the invitation for Dad’s funeral, and please RSVP so that we know how much coffee and food to purchase for the wake. I hope you are doing well after the news of his passing. It has been hard for us all here. Charles and Little Joe won’t stop crying, and Joseph and I are struggling in general. This only seems to make things worse. I don’t know if I told you, but we are seeking the help of a marriage counselor. It’s been a lot of work, and when things like Dad’s passing happen, it really tests what work we’ve done.
Anyway, sorry if this is TMI. It’s just a tough time right now. Hope you can make it to the funeral and the wake afterward.
Flo
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Mon, Jul 8, 2019 at 7:10 PM
To: Florence Eakins
Subject: Funeral
Dear Florence,
Of course I will be at Father’s funeral. I didn’t know I needed to RSVP, being his eldest daughter.
I am sorry to hear that you and Joseph are having issues, but I’m sure that things will work themselves out. Two people who are as busy as you don’t have time to mope about and wait for things to improve. You will just have to make them. You two should go out on a date. When was the last time you did that together?