You've Reached Sam(24)

“I felt like checking in. I know it’s been a while.” I glance around the store for changes. But it’s exactly as I left it. I turn to Tristan. “Sorry for leaving you guys out of the blue. I heard you volunteered to take over my shifts. I never thanked you.”

“Oh, no need to thank me. I mean, I’m glad I could help.”

Besides Mr. Lee, it’s only me and Tristan working here. If one of us is sick, the other one is responsible for their hours and closing the store. We rely a lot on each other, especially around finals when we have to coordinate our exam schedules. I hate that I sprung an entire week on him without a word. Tristan is a junior, so we never have class together. The first time we spoke was when we both sat down with Mr. Lee during our interview for this job. Mr. Lee said he was impressed with our knowledge of books and chose us specifically for the genres we read most. He noticed I’m well-read in young adult and literary fiction, and praised Tristan’s expertise in science fiction and fantasy. We later learned we were the only ones who even applied.

“I still feel guilty,” I say.

“You shouldn’t,” Tristan says, shaking his head. “You should take off however much time as you need. I like being here. So don’t feel bad.”

The wind chimes jingle, letting us know a customer has come in. Tristan looks over his shoulder, and runs a hand through his hair. He whispers, somewhat carefully, “So how are you doing, by the way? I’ve been wanting to reach out, but I wasn’t sure if it was too soon, you know? I’m sorry about what happened to Sam. Things must be hard right now…”

I stare at the floor, wondering what to say. Ever since Sam picked up, it’s as if the whole world flipped again, and I’m no longer sure how to respond to these questions. How do you bridge grief and hopefulness, without having someone take it the wrong way? Without hinting at your secret? “I’m just taking it one day at a time…”

Tristan nods. “That makes sense…”

The wind chime jingles again. I use this momentary distraction to change the subject. I run a hand along the shelves. “Anyway, how’s the store been?”

“Pretty good,” Tristan says, understanding. “Actually, you should see this.” He takes my arm, pulling me to another section of the store. A woman and her son are perusing some used books by the front window. Tristan smiles at them. “Let me know if you guys need anything,” he says.

We arrive at science fiction, his favorite section.

“Look—the entire Space Ninja series, collector’s edition,” Tristan says, showing me the shelf he’s been working on. “They only have fifty of them in the world.”

“Oh, wow.”

Tristan opens up the book with careful hands. “It has a holographic map of the entire NexPod Galaxy. Isn’t that cool?” He turns the page. “Here’s a picture of Captain Mega Claws—also holographic. If you tilt it a little, his claw moves.”

“It’s beautiful.” I touch the holographic paper as it glimmers. “Looks expensive, though.”

“It’s already sold.”

“Oh—so why is it still here?”

“I still have to ship it,” he explains. “Someone bought it online.”

“We’re online?”

“Only since last week,” Tristan says. “We have an online store now and everything. It’s really expanding our customer base.”

“That’s amazing. And Mr. Lee is okay with it?”

“Of course. He even asked me to update our Facebook page. And we have a Twitter now, by the way.”

“Do people still use that?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Interesting.”

Tristan returns the book to the shelf. “I also reached out to the author, Steve Anders. I asked him to come do a signing here and got a response.”

“Oh my god. When’s he coming?”

“He’s not,” Tristan says, frowning. “His publicist said they’ve never even heard of Ellensburg.”

“Most people haven’t,” I say with a sigh. “At least you tried.”

“Yeah. That’s what Mr. Lee said.”

The wind chimes jingle again, bringing in another customer. It’s always great to see people come into the store, even if they don’t buy anything.

After a quiet moment, I catch the scent of sage and tea leaves. A calm energy embraces the store. I turn to see the back room’s door propped open, and Mr. Lee standing beside Tristan, a hand on his shoulder. He has that tendency to appear as if from nowhere.

“Good afternoon, Julie.”

“Mr. Lee…” is all I get out. I was hoping he would be here today. I feel a pang of guilt in my chest for not reaching out sooner, but I know he understands. No one knows this, but Mr. Lee was with me the day I found out Sam died. In fact, it was right here in this store when I got that phone call from Mika in the morning. Mr. Lee picked me up off the floor, closed down the bookstore early, drove me to the hospital, and waited to bring me home. He always loved having Sam around.

Mr. Lee said he “brought in good luck. ”

“What did I bring in?” I once asked him.

“You brought in Sam.”

“The books missed you,” Mr. Lee says with a lift of a hand. While someone else might find his words strange, I’ve grown accustomed to how he imbues personalities into the books of the store, bringing them to life.