Different Stories

The deeper it gets into the afternoon, the more I can feel my heartbeat picking up pace and my eyes fixating on the door. Any minute now she’ll walk through. I’m prepared. I run my recommendations through my head once more. All the comics remain on the shelf. I’ll walk through like I’m making selections off the top of my head, but I’ve carefully curated this list. Each one is a comic that I think she’ll enjoy, but that I also think gives her a glimpse into my soul. I relate deeply to these characters, and I guess I think if she connects with them, she’ll really see me. Know me like no one else ever could. It hasn’t exactly worked yet. Sometimes her insights inspire hope she’s getting there, but sometimes they’re a little disappointing.

Last week, I thought she’d really be blown away by the character Tom Montana. He’s everything I want to be - principled, steadfast, and reliable. The kind of guy who always makes good choices and protects people. She didn’t say anything about him. Nothing at all. I didn’t want to push it and make it obvious I cared, but none of that stuck with her?

I hear the ringing bell of someone opening the door and my eyes dart towards it. I tell myself to look away and act busy, but in my quick glance I notice it’s not her. It’s my boss, Trent Pearce. Trent normally doesn’t come in while I’m here.

He has a skateboard tucked under one arm, a lollipop in his mouth, and a backpack slung over one shoulder. His jeans are ripped, his short blonde hair is spikey, and his face is a pin cushion of piercings. It’s a look men in their thirties normally can’t get away with, but there’s something about Trent that always looks so effortlessly cool. It somehow suits him. As far as bosses go, I have nothing to complain about. He’s laid-back, but surprisingly responsible.

“Hey, man. I got a bunch of inventory and paperwork shit to sort out in the back. You can take off early. I’m not expecting anything crazy tonight.”

I glance at the door and see she’s still not there. She should be here any minute now. She comes after work. “Well if you’re in the back, don’t you need me up here to watch the front?”

“Nah, it’s all good. I’ll hear the bell.” He puts his stuff behind the counter and sifts through mail. I was only on the schedule for another half hour anyway.

He looks up at me and I realize I’ve been standing there for too long. I grab my half empty bottle of soda and hear the ring of the door. I turn around and there she is.

“Oh, I should help with this one real quick so you can get started.” I head towards her before he can say anything else. “Hey, Peyton. Good to see you.”

The way she smiles gets me feeling almost lightheaded. “Hey, Dex. Got any recommendations for me this week?”

“Sure, thing. How were last week’s?”

“Well, sorry to say, you still haven’t made a fantasy fan out of me, but the magic was fun. The other one I really loved though! Thelma was my favorite character. Maybe ever.”

“Thelma?” I could barely remember who Thelma was. She wasn’t the sultry femme fatale Detective O’Brien falls for. Was she the sister?

Peyton’s eyes are wide. “The one who hops on that train without knowing where it’s going or even buying a ticket.”

“Well, not buying a ticket seems a bit inconsiderate.”

Peyton rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she paid while on the train. I think that’d be fun to explore a totally new place without any expectations or plans. Make it up as you go.”

“Fun or anxiety inducing? I’m all for exploring new places, but I’d rather know it’s a place worth exploring and that I can see all I want to.”

Peyton frowned, and then her face lit up again. “What about when she gets Detective O’Brien to dance at that jazz club? Everyone else is drinking Scotch or smoking cigarettes and they’re in their own dazzling world.”

I shrug. I don’t want to disagree with her again but the thought makes my palms sweaty. I also feel like Trent is watching us and worry if I should act more focused and professional. Discussing comics is the business though, right?

She sighs. “It was such a beautiful scene.”

“Except for Detective O’Brien being in love with her sister.”

Now Peyton shrugs. “Oh, I don’t think she really cared about the detective, anyway. He wasn’t her type. Too much of a stick in the mud.”

I laugh. She’s right. He kind of was. Even when we don’t totally agree, I always imagine how nice it’d be to read together and have these discussions in a comfy place together every night. “Well, it seems you’re more into the noir stories and we do have a new one this week. I’ll show you.”

“Are you going to make me try a new fantasy one too?” There’s a playful glint in her eye and warmth in her smile. Is she flirting with me? I try not to let the thought mess up what I’m doing. Seeing the way Trent is grinning at us and giving me those raised eyebrows isn’t helping.

“I wouldn’t make you do anything. I just think it’s cool going to all these different fictional worlds and the art is amazing.”

“We’re like perfect opposites. You like bright, colorful hero stories and I like dark gritty villain stories.” She laughs lightly.

My chest tightens and the room feels so warm. Opposites? She delivers it like a joke but I don’t want her pointing out our differences. I want her to see how we’re the same. Something about knowing Trent is hearing all of this makes me feel like a bug trapped in a glass jar. I take a slow, steadying breath, and force a little chuckle. I know it sounds all wrong. “Well, sometimes opposites work well. Nothing wrong with that.”

Trent looks at me with this questioning expression I don’t really get, and I want to slip between the book shelves into the darkness of the backroom and vanish. I grab all the issues I wanted to recommend and lead her towards the register. I can’t think straight and maybe it’d be better if this all wraps up. I’ll be better next week. Trent is standing by the cash register, making it so I can’t get there. I put the comics on the counter.

“Thanks for the help,” Peyton says softly. “I look forward to reading them.”

I nod. She turns to Trent, and I realize since I’m leaving I can walk out with her. Maybe we’ll be able to talk easier outside of the shop.

“Oh hey, I saw them live in New York a couple years back. One of my top five shows.” Trent says while gesturing towards her shirt. I look at it myself but have no idea who the band is. If Trent knows them, they’re probably some obscure punk band.

Peyton’s eyes lit up. “That’s so awesome! I’ve seen them live too.”

My stomach twists. It’s just music. Liking the same music means nothing.

“Seeing them is such an experience,” Peyton continues. “Like I could feel the vibrations in my soul. The crowd was amazing. I loved everyone there.”

Okay, so maybe music is more important to her than I thought.

“I totally get it. It’s like electrifying,” Trent says.

Oh, great. I try not to roll my eyes. They talk about this band a while more, but my brain kind of glazes over the details. Then, Peyton turns to me.

“What kind of music do you like, Dex?”

At least she still knows I’m here. I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t really care that much.”

“Seriously?” She laughs.

I listen to a lot of video game and movie soundtracks, but a lot of people don’t take that seriously. I’d rather not get into it with music buffs. Easier to seem indifferent.

“These are some solid choices too,” Trent adds, referring to the comics. I’m not sure if he is trying to save me here. “You have great taste.”

I think Peyton is blushing and I feel ill.

“Well, Dex helps me find them so I can’t take all the credit there. He’s very helpful.”

I smile. That has to be a good sign, right?

“Except for him trying to make me read all these fantasy stories,” she jokes.

My heart deflates. Trent adds in his own recommendation. Some barely known but probably awesome indie run. Because of course he does. She absolutely loves it, like she can tell from the cover it’ll be better than anything I gave her. If I drop to the floor and slither away, will anyone even notice?

“See you next week,” Peyton says with a wave. I smile and wave back and then feel stupid for it. I want to offer to walk with her, but I freeze and words won’t form.

When I hear the doorbell ring indicating she’s left the building, my mind clears a bit.

“She seems like a nice girl,” Trent says.

“Yeah, she’s like our best customer.”

“I bet.”

I don’t like the teasing way he says that. “Really she is. She buys so many comics. I don’t even know how she reads them all.”

He laughs. “You should ask her out, man.”

“What? Why?” My cheeks are burning. “No, it’s not like that.”

“You sure? I bet she’d say yes.”

He thinks she’d say yes? Why? What did he see that I didn’t? To me it seems more likely she’d say yes to him. “That’d be unprofessional. She’s a good customer. I’m just doing my job.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s really not like that.”

“Okay.” He shrugs and thankfully drops it.

“I should get going. Have a good night.”

“You too, man.”

I walk out the door and down the sidewalk enough that I can’t be seen through the shop window. Then I kick a baby shoe left on the sidewalk so hard I almost trip myself. I look up and see a woman staring at me with horrified wide eyes. I walk home mentally yelling at myself for being so stupid. So stupid when talking to Peyton and also probably stupid for not just admitting I liked her. Maybe it was better not to tell a boss too much anyway. I think some of my inner yelling accidentally slips out, because some of the people I walk by give me strange looks. It was a bad day, but I know I have things in common with Peyton too. We’ve had great conversations and she even baked me cookies once. I can see this amazing, quiet life together for us. We could travel together and have deep discussions. This was a stupid day. I could be better. I would be.

I spend my night wallowing in self pity while playing games with my online friend, Evan. By the next day I’m determined to make the next time I see her better.

A few days later, Trent comes in during my shift again. Trent is a consistently positive, carefree kind of guy, but even by his standards he seems happier than normal. He mentions some business related things first. Then says, “Oh, I saw your friend Peyton at a wedding this weekend. Guess we know some of the same people.”

“We’re not really friends,” I mutter. It feels true. As much as I’d like to be anything more, realistically we’ve never talked outside of this place. I also have this feeling I don’t want to hear anything he says next about this. He doesn’t look like he even heard me.

“She jumped into this hotel pool wearing this fancy ballgown dress and everything. To see what it’d feel like, she said.” A dreamy look softens his face as the smile of someone reliving a fond memory slowly spreads across his face.

My stomach twists and my eyes look for the trash barrel in case I vomit. Why would she do that? Was she drunk?

“I’m glad she didn’t drown,” he says and blinks a few times like waking from this little daydream. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” the word squeaks out. “I … I really hate weddings.”

I actually don’t have any problems with weddings. I’m a bit too introverted for them, but the food is usually decent and it’s nice when people want to be together forever.

“Oh yeah, I kind of do too. This was definitely the best one I’ve been to.”

I really hope he is saying that because swimming in a hotel pool is that much fun. It could be, right? Maybe some other aspect of the event was fun and it has nothing to do with her. He doesn’t offer anything more, which I’m both grateful for and worry about. Attempting to prove I’m unbothered I say, “Well, it’s cool you had fun.”

When I get to the day she normally comes in, I’m a mess. I decided last night I’m going to make a move. This whole thing with Trent made me realize I could lose my chance. I know there’s a good chance I’ll chicken out when I see her, but I’m telling myself I can do it for now. Trent’s so lucky he saw her at the wedding. That’s the kind of moment I need. If I saw her at a coffee shop or walking through town, that’d be perfect. The problem is that she never shows up. What if she never shows up again? I feel so stupid.

After that day, it’s a couple weeks before I see her again. When I do see her, it isn’t in the comic shop. I’m walking to pick up some food, when I see a couple dancing through a pizza shop window. The window is large, the room inside is well lit, and seeing people dancing takes me by surprise. The surprise hits harder when I realize I know them. Peyton and Trent are dancing in the middle of a regular pizza shop. There are a couple families sitting in chairs. The adults look focused on managing their children. There’s an older woman smiling at Peyton and Trent and a man in the corner who keeps glancing at them and then looking away. Trent is spinning her around in circles. Peyton is glowing. Her chin tilts up, her shoulders look relaxed, and her smile is the biggest I’ve ever seen. She melts into his arms and closes her eyes. She looks completely peaceful. Completely happy. He kisses her forehead.

“Gross. Some people are so obsessed with attention.” A woman says. She’s a short woman with thick glasses and dark hair. Seeing she has my attention she continues, “I mean people just want to eat and go about their day. Do they really have to make everything so weird and all about them?”

“I don’t think it’s about attention,” I sigh. “I think they’re just in love.”

Something inside me is ripping apart slowly and painfully. I can barely breathe. I wish it were me, but also I kind of don’t. I want to be with her, but the second hand embarrassment is also getting to me.

“Well, I sure hope love like that never finds me,” she says.

What a stick-in-the-mud. I laugh as the thought enters my head. The woman raises an eyebrow at me. It suddenly makes sense to me. Peyton likes Thelma because she is Thelma. Trent is the kind of guy who will take a train to where the fuck ever because he could probably make any place fun and exciting. He’ll also treat her well. Look after her. Be reasonable and calm. I’m not Detective O’Brien even. I’m in a totally different story. Maybe that’s fine. I really hate noirs, to be honest.

Rain drops fall. It’s one of those rain storms that comes on rapid and strong. In a minute, I’ll be drenched. I step back, look up at the sky, and spin in a circle while laughing. Not exactly dancing, because fuck dancing. I hate dancing. I’m breaking.

“Oh, great, the crazy is spreading.” I hear the woman say as she opens an umbrella and scurries away.

As the rain soaks me, I start to get it. I feel light. Like some weight has been lifted. It only lasts a moment, but it does feel nice.

A car horn honks. “Hey, get out of the road, asshole!”

I head to the sidewalk, I didn’t notice leaving. I don’t look through the window again. If they’re happy that’s great, but I don’t need to see it. My heart hurts. My whole body feels heavy. I want to scream and punch something. I couldn’t be what she wanted. If she jumped in a pool in a dress, I wouldn’t admire her for it. I’d probably jump in to rescue her, but I’d definitely think she was crazy. I wouldn’t dance in a restaurant. I think I’d be too embarrassed to dance around in my living room. It still hurts like hell, but I like seeing her look that happy too.

I stand in the dark, letting the rain pour over me. I forgot to get my food. I don’t even want it anymore. I want to go to New Zealand. I want to see all the coolest spots in the world. I want to find the person that fits into my story.