Confessions of a Curious Bookseller(91)
It’s only fair that I tell you that I am not in real estate. I am a waiter in Old City at this place called Bloo. It’s a new joint that serves cocktails that glow in the dark. It’s terribly gaudy, and I have to wear iridescent rings around my neck and wrists like a prisoner in some cheap sci-fi movie, but it pays the bills. I always wanted to get into real estate, but it was always too scary a leap to take. Like you, I’ve never been outside the country except for one bad excursion to Mexico that I should tell you about sometime. I had a crazy boyfriend in my twenties, ha ha. What else? I’m not married, I’m not dating anyone at the moment, and I live in a small apartment in South Philly over a bubble tea joint.
It sure was fun to pretend, wasn’t it? I’d still love to meet you. To think we were only a couple of miles from each other this whole time.
Much love,
Gregory
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Sat, Aug 10, 2019 at 7:32 PM
To: Gregory Harris
Re: This is I
Dear Gregory,
I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked to learn that we’ve both been playing each other like Stradivarii. I daresay that we’ve gained much joy from these letters, and now that I know the truth about you, I feel slightly guilty for ending this fantasy. I suppose this means that you never went to Harvard and you don’t have an apartment in Paris and a house on the Caspian Sea? For years I have secretly hoped that one day you would take me there, but I suppose it is not in the cards.
Honestly, it does make me feel better that you were always a little suspicious of what I was writing about my life. I admit that it all was a little too rosy. I tried to muck it up with my constant boredom and my family never getting along (true, by the way), but I suppose it wasn’t enough.
I am so glad you still want to meet me. Would you like to see my bookstore? It is soon to change hands, but you will be able to catch it in its last days. I am thinking of traveling the world with the money I have made on the building. I won’t be able to buy an estate in England with it, but it’s better than nothing. Do you know that I’ve never even been to Canada? Perhaps I will start there as, due to our proximity, there is simply no excuse to skip it.
Fawn
August 13, 2019
I am not sure where I’ll go or what I’ll do outside of traveling. Just the thought of waking up somewhere else is a bit daunting. No longer seeing the seasons change outside those old drafty windows, nor hearing that familiar creaking in the middle of the night, nor smelling the scent of the lilac bush outside the first-floor kitchen window makes it difficult, and sometimes I just want to break down in tears. But I’m keeping busy in these last days—too busy to think too much about it.
Father would be disappointed. He would see this as admitting defeat, but unlike him I know when to walk away. I don’t want his legacy. I don’t want to look back on my life and realize that I could have saved myself but didn’t out of stubborn pride. It’s not always admirable to go down with the ship, contrary to what my father believed, and there was never any question that this ship was going anywhere but down. And though I have no fear of being alone or dying alone among my aloe plants and Kleenex boxes, I will choose not to do it here, in this romantic but drafty place that holds the kind of memories that can stifle a person to death. I have spoken so much of seeing England, but the Dalmatian Coast sounds far too ridiculous to pass up, so I think that will be my second experience after Canada. Much like myself, the most exotic place my father ever traversed was Philadelphia’s Chinatown, and that’s only because he made a wrong turn. I don’t think he even got out of his car. As much as I detested him all my life, I need to do this for him almost as much as I must do it for myself.
Mark Twain is supposed to have said: “Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.” I have had enough good company, I think. It’s time for some fair weather.
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Fri, Aug 30, 2019 at 2:08 PM
To: Jack Grisby
Subject: Gold watch
Dear Jack,
Tomorrow I am leaving on a flight to Montreal where I will be sitting at an outdoor café sipping wine and eating delightful cakes. With me I will have a last-minute addition: my childhood friend, Gregory, who has also never been outside the country (except a stint in Mexico that I can’t wait to hear about). We are not lovers, as he prefers the male gender for romantic companionship. And to think, all this time through my letters, I have been subtly wooing him! I digress.
In a matter of days, you will find a gold watch in the mail that once belonged to my father. He won it during a poker game at an Atlantic City casino when I was very young. A lawyer had put his gold watch in the mix and my father, on one of his rare moments of fortune, happened to win! With the watch he also won $1,000—money that was swiftly lost moments later at the blackjack table.
In the twenty years I’ve been in business, I haven’t had an employee quite like you. No one has ever been so loyal—almost to a fault—so I simply couldn’t think of a better person to receive this. If the watch doesn’t fit, you can bring it to a watch repairman who will take out the extra links. My father had wrists like a bull.
I hope you enjoy working for Mark. I know it will not be the same, but stiff upper lip! I will send postcards of my travels, so keep an eye out.
Sincerely,
Fawn