The Unexpected Footnote

“That can’t be him - it just can’t!” The snow was blowing sideways - you could barely see two steps ahead. But in the distance - the shape, the posture, it had to be him. He was sure.

“Arnie, just go already, he said to meet at five.” Arnie was numb. He didn’t know if it was the cold air or the shock setting in. How could this be real? How did this make sense?

Why this morning, why… - Arnie starred at the faded ceiling - what could he possibly be doing so early on a Saturday.

“Todd - come on man…what are you doing?”

“Coffee time - you want some?”

“No! It’s only seven, just stop making so much noise.”

He hadn’t set an alarm; so much for that. Since graduating, Arnie was constantly reminded why he was always told to stay a kid as long as he could - this whole adulting thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But whatever, might as well just start the day. He was looking forward to today. Not only was he planning to visit his favorite place, but also see Emma.

After Arnie graduated from college, he was able to land an entry level job in a Boston marketing firm. Didn’t pay great, but it was a start. He was just glad he was even able to find something all together considering it took him an extra year to finish school. He didn’t party, didn’t really even socialize much. Mostly kept to himself, and always had his nose in books…just the wrong ones. Instead of reading his textbooks, he was always finding a different history topic to read about. Arnie wanted to major in history, he loved it since he was a kid, but that wasn’t going to fly with his Mom. So he picked marketing, and figured that was practical. He never liked disappointing her, he looked up to her. After all, it was just the two of them since he was seven.

As Arnie gathered his things, he just kept telling himself today is the day. Today he was going to ask her. He wasn’t going to chicken out. Well…hopefully. He was in such a daze he forgot the two handed simultaneous lift and pull needed to open his stupid door. He nearly dislocated his shoulder pulling on the warped thing. He made his way down the hall, and hoped he would avoid Todd.

“Bounce off the door again?”

“Oh shut up, you do the same thing.”

“Not as often as you. Almost seems like you’re mad at the wall - Now, I bet you want some coffee.”

“Nah, I’m heading to Norm’s, I’ll get one there.”

“Come on Arn, don’t miss out again man, just ask her, just do it already!”

“I know, I know. I am today.”

I’ve heard that how many times. You need me to come, make sure you don’t back out?”

“Oh please, last thing I need is you there.”

Off he went, earlier than expected, but Arnie would’ve wished he had Todd’s cup of coffee considering the day he was about to have. Asking out Emma was the least of his worries. He just didn’t know it yet.

Norman’s Books, Arnie’s home away from home. He discovered the shop early on in his time at school. Nestled into the bottom floor of a Charlestown brownstone at the top of a hill. Coming over the bridge and making the trek up the hill wasn’t his favorite part, but worth every step. It was on the climb he noticed the gray sky, and remembered it was supposed to snow that evening, or so they said. Who knows with that Boston weather. As predictable as whether or not he was going to actually ask out Emma.

The chime the door made each time he passed through brought a calm over him. It made him smile. He felt comfortable. He felt safe.

“Arnold my boy, come, come - look at these, you’re going to love this!”

Arnie adored Harry, the stores owner. Harry ran one of the most beloved shops in the city. Not just for the books, but because of the memory it held within it’s walls. Harry opened the store in 1989, three years after the disappearance of his son, Norman. For the past thirty-six years, every morning that Harry opened up the shop, he would look up and see his son’s name and know that he was watching over him. Wherever he was.

“Arnold, what’s taking you so long, get over here.”

“I’ll be right there my friend, got to make a quick stop.”

Oyyy, here we go… Harry rolled his eyes slightly, smirked, and motioned Arnie over, and whispered. “Just go for it, what’s to lose, so she says no, so what, you move onto to the next one. How do you think I spent 38 years with my dear Abigail. Go, go make me proud.”

“But, what if…”

Harry put his hand on Arnie’s shoulder, looked him in the eyes and gave him a subtle nod. Arnie took a deep breathe and started his walk over to Emma’s coffee cart.

Emma had an entrepreneurial spirit, one that Harry admired. He let her set up a coffee cart in the shop on the weekends. It was small, but had the basics.

The shop was busy this Saturday, and so was the coffee cart. Now how was he going to ask her in front of all these people? There was no way. But if he did, it was going to have to be quick. Finally, it was his turn.

“Hey buddy, what are you having today? The usual? Black, with no room, and a chocolate chip muffin, right?” Emma only was half turned towards Arnie, and kept going side to side preparing other orders.

“Um, yeah, that’ll be great, just what I need to fuel the bookworm.”

“Okay perfect, see, who knows you better than me, am I right?” This was his moment. That was the opening. Did he take it, should he? Her moving side to side was literally his anxiety playing out right in front of him.

“It would be great if I could get to know you better.” Did I just say that? Yup, that just happened. Emma stopped, and was facing the opposite direction so he couldn’t see her reaction. What could she be thinking? Then, she turned, smiled, and carried over his order.

“I’d like that, Arnie. Come back and visit after the line calms down.”

“Oh-okay, um, sure. Thanks for the coffee.”

“That’ll still be $7. You think casually asking me out is going to get you free breakfast?” She smiled as Arnie paid. He walked away not entirely sure how to react, but he just wished had asked her sooner. They had become good friends over the past several months, and now he finally made the leap. The one thing he knew for sure though…if only he was able to tell his dad.

“Harry - Harry! She said yes!”

“Easy son, easy. You don’t want her to see you acting like this and regret it. What did I tell you, see, just have to ask. - Now Arnold, come over here, I have to show you what showed up this morning.”

He never liked being called Arnold, but it was different with Harry. He never mentioned it, didn’t want to upset him. In fact, Harry was the only person who he let call him Arnold. Well, besides his Mom…when she was mad at him at least.

Arnie’s eye’s widened when he saw them, so much that his glasses slide out of place. There were four boxes full of old, rare books. Books that just weren’t about history, they were the history.

“Don’t just stand there Arnold, let’s see what we got here.”

“Where did you find all these?”

“I don’t know to tell you the truth. When I opened up this morning, they were pilled up right in front of the store.”

“Any note or anything?”

“Nope, just out front and directly under Norman’s name. Kind of odd, but whatever, new books. Maybe just some kind of donation.”

One in particular caught Arnie’s eye as he sipped his coffee. The brown cover was faded, and he couldn’t clearly make out the title, but from what he could tell seemed to say “Lexington’s Green”. This had to be on the American Revolution, his favorite topic. Through the dust he could feel the leather cover. As he opened the book a pale parchment style paper fell out. It was folded and sealed with wax that had “21” impressed into it. Arnie was in awe. The book had to be 100 plus years old. Could this letter really have been in here the whole time? Arnie just stood there starring at it.

“What is it? Something wrong, son?”

“No, um…I just can’t believe what I found. Looks like a letter.”

“You find it in the box?”

“No, it was inside of the book and fell out when I opened it. The number “21” mean anything to you?”

“I don’t think so? No.”

“Well what are you waiting for, open it.”

“Don’t you think we should take it somewhere, to an archive or something? Have someone who knows how to handle something so old and delicate?”

“Ah, who has time for that. Just be gentle, open the thing.”

Harry handed Arnie a letter opener. Arnie figured at a minimum he would try to preserve the seal. He slowly begin to slide the opener under the seal. After a few minutes of pealing back the wax, the letter was open, the wax fully intact. He slowly opened the letter and began to read. Arnie froze; his jaw dropped slightly, and he gasped.

“What…what is it? What’s wrong?”

Arnie said nothing and just starred at the letter.

“Arnold, your scaring me. You’re not saying anything.”

Arnie slowly sat down, never looking up from the letter. He was hunched over, his elbows on his knees. A single tear ran down his right cheek and he didn’t react to wipe it away. He slowly lifted his head and looked to Harry. His eyes were red. His face was flushed. But it almost looked as if he was about to smile.

“Harry, it’s from him. I don’t know how, but it’s from him.”

“From who, what in the world are you talking about?”

Arnie handed Harry the letter to read. Harry covered his mouth with his hand in disbelief and sharply looked back to Arnie.

“How can this be, Arnold?”

“I couldn’t begin to know, but it’s from him. I know it.”

“Frank - Carl just pulled up.”

“Okay, Barb, I’ll be right down.”

“Taxi isn’t going to want to wait, make it quick, Frank.”

Seven year old Arnie was just finishing up his dinner, and he couldn’t finish fast enough. With it being the weekend he could watch TV. But what he was most excited for was the next day. His Dad was taking him to watch the planes.

“Alright, I’m heading out, Arnie you be good for your Mom.”

Frank gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. He gently brushed his hand across the top of Arnie’s head, smiled, and didn’t break tradition. He always said it to him before he left.

“Spread those wings and fly, son.”

Arnie looked up and smiled. He and his Mom watched as Frank walked towards the door. Just as he crossed the threshold, he looked back over his shoulder.

“Love yah. See you soon.”

As Arnie began watching TV what he didn’t know was that he not only wouldn’t get to watch the planes on Saturday morning, but that would be the last time he would see his father.

The Uneven Stool was packed, and more people kept filling in. Mostly college kids at this point. The spot was popular, historic. Since opening in 1791, it’s been a Boston landmark that carried the same charm today that it did when it opened 234 years ago.

“Frank, I think it’s time we call it a night. It’s getting a bit much in here, huh?”

“Yeah, I think you’re right, and I have to get up early anyway.”

As Carl and Frank left, a women called out for help.

“Someone stop that boy, he ran off with my bag!”

Frank quickly went and asked her for a description and where he went.

“He was just a child, um, kind of short, I think he had on a green shirt and a jean jacket. He ran that way.”

Before Carl even had a chance to say anything, Frank took off running. He followed, but was well behind. The cobblestone alleyway ended at a brick wall. No doors, stairs, nothing. Carl didn’t see Frank. He called out, but got no response. He was just…gone. Carl ran back and asked the women if she saw Frank run back towards the entrance of the tavern, but she didn’t. After nearly two hours of searching the block, Carl called the police.

“911, operator 22702, what is the location of your emergency?”

“Hi, um, I’m along Union street and I can’t find my friend. He just disappeared.”

“Where did you see him last?”

“He was running down an alley trying to catch up to some kid who stole a lady’s bag.”

“Do you know which alley it was? See any signs?”

“It’s, um, alley twenty-one.”

“Arnie, meet me at the corner of Union and Hanover - 5pm. I know how to find him. “Spread those wings and fly.” - Dad

“Arnold, how could this be from your father?”

“I can’t explain how, but it is. I remember his handwriting. The curve at the bottom of the “A” and how instead of a dot over the “i” he would draw a small circle.

“How could you remember his handwriting, you were only seven?”

“He would always write me notes for my lunch. I always kept them. I carry the one from the day he disappeared in my wallet. Look, it matches exactly.”

“Well, I’ll be, you’re right. But who does he know how to find?”

“I have no idea. But I have to go.”

“I’m coming.”

“No, Harry, it’s to risky, we don’t know.”

“Arnold, I’m coming. Go ask your friend. She’ll want to come to, I’m sure.”

Harry watched from the distance as Arnie showed Emma the note. The look on her face was as if he was looking in a mirror. Whatever was coming next he didn’t know what to expect. But whatever it was, would set the course for something unexpected.

The snow had started earlier than expected, and now it was getting dark.

“Come on you two, let’s go! We have to be there at five.”

Arnie and Emma jumped in the back of Harry’s car, and off they went. As they started over the bridge into the North End, Emma grasped Arnie’s hand. Their fingers interlocked. The look on her face gave him comfort, but showed her uncertainty. Harry looked determined. He was driving with a sense of purpose.

As Harry turned onto Hanover street Arnie felt his palms get clammy. Do you think she noticed?

As Harry parked, Emma and Arnie leaned towards the middle, gazing out the front window. Harry leaned forward doing to the same.

The final push from Emma was what he needed. Arnie jumped from the car and tightened his jacket collar around his neck. Emma and Harry followed close behind. As they approached, the man slowly turned and smiled.

Arnie ran the last fifty feet into the arms of his father. He looked just the same as he did the night he disappeared, fifteen years ago. Completely unchanged.

“Dad!”

“My boy, my dear Arnie.”

Harry put his arm around Emma to console her. As she did the same for him.

“I know how to find him, but we have to leave now.”

“Leave? To go where?”

“To find the boy, the one in the green shirt and jean jacket.”

Harry’s arm dropped off Emma’s shoulder to his side and he gasped.

“Did you say a boy in a green shirt and jean jacket?”

“Yes, my friend. I know about Norman. What happened to me, happened to him. I know how we can bring him home.”

Harry started to sob. The day that Norman disappeared he was wearing a green shirt and his favorite jean jacket. Harry last saw him just after they left The Uneven Stool for lunch.

“Arnie, we need to go. We’re going to miss the window.”

“What window?”

“I’ll explain later, we have to go.”

Frank began running down Union street and Arnie followed. Harry looked to Emma - “Come on!”

Harry couldn’t keep up, but Emma stayed with him. Frank turned down a dark alley, and Arnie followed. Alley twenty-one.

Harry and Emma turned onto the alley but were losing them in the dark snow. Harry tripped on a loose cobblestone and fell. Emma turned back.

“Go - go!”

“But I can’t….”

“Forget about me, go! Find my son!”

Emma hesitated, but continued until she reached a brick wall. There was nowhere else to go. She spun in circles, looking up and down. It was a dead end. But where were Arnie and his Dad? Emma dropped to her knees and held her face in her hands. They were gone.

Emma thanked the server for the coffee, and took a sip. Even at this point in her life, at 76, she still loved coffee while she read. She took in the summer air sitting outside the cafe along Hanover street, her favorite spot. Just as she picked up her mug, she heard a voice from behind - “Still fueling the bookworm I see.”

Emma slowly turned, and looked up. She shrieked - dropping her mug, shattering the glass on the patio.

“Is that really you?”

The young man with glasses smiled, while holding a boy wearing a green shirt and jean jacket.