Page 6 of The Darkest Parts of Me

Maven

Iroll my window down, the fresh mountain air blowing in my face with a comforting crispness that I dearly missed. As the bookshop comes into view, my heart expands, and a smile spreads across my face. The red sign hanging above the door is so worn that it’s hard to distinguish what it says, but I know the name well.

Tall Tales Bookshop

Before my mom can put the car into park, I reach for the handle on the door.

“Maven! You’re a grown woman, for crying out loud! At least wait for the car to stop moving before you decide to jump out of it!”

Ignoring her pleas, I quickly walk up to the shop, a warm light shining through the old windows, which were probably at one time crystal clear but are now foggy with age. I catch a glimpse of the rows of bookshelves inside and pull open the heavy, wooden door, the bell above the entrance chiming a welcoming tone as the strong, wonderful scent of paper crashes into me. A young woman with beautiful, brown skin, dark hair, and warm, hazel eyes appears from behind a stack of books.

“MAVE! You’re back!” she says, throwing her arms wide. She probably calls me “Mave” more than anyone, and I have her labeled as “Tash” in my phone. Simple nicknames, but ones that have always stuck.

“I’m back!” I run toward her and fall into her arms.

“Oh my goodness, Maven! I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been waiting all day for you to finally come by. I almost called, but I didn’t want to rush you.” Tasha gives me a comforting squeeze, and I return the sentiment with all my heart because I’ve missed her too.

Tasha has been my best friend since I was six years old, but I haven’t seen her in person for a couple of years. She came to see me in the hospital—though I wasn’t awake to remember—and once I started recovering, we texted and video chatted almost every day, and she came to visit me a few times. Seeing her face-to-face comforts my soul—this visit is long overdue.

“You’re here, like here here!” Tasha exclaims.

“I know! It’s kind of insane—it feels like it’s been forever, but it also feels like I was just here, you know?” I reply with a deep exhale, but before I can say more, the charming sound of the bell rings again as my mom enters the shop. In the time it takes me to look back to where Tasha has been standing, she has already run past me to wrap her arms around my mom.

“Tasha! You sweet girl, how are you?”

“I’m great, Tova, even better now that my favorite people are back in town.”

“We’re happy to be back. Right, Mave?”

They both look at me, waiting for my response. I know they mean well, and this is probably just their way of gauging how I’m doing, but I’m not entirely sure how I feel. Luckily, I’ve had years of faking my way through these attempts at inquiring about my mental state. Although, it’s been a process uncovering how many questions have underlying intentions.

When people ask me, “How are you?” they really mean, “How have you been since the accident?”

Or, “What have you been up to?” means they want to know how well I’ve adjusted.

Most of the time, I let it roll off me without a second thought, but there are some occurrences when the true answers to those inquiries linger in my mind. I wish people would let me handle it in my own time instead of trying to pry answers out of me like my feelings are in a locked box that has no key.

I wish I could say that now, but I think better of it. I don’t want to add on to this already emotional day.

“Very,” I say with a smile.

And it’s true, I am happy, but that word seems so basic compared to all the feelings flowing through me now. Because honestly, I’m feeling a lot more than simply joy, but labeling it as happiness is enough.

I wasn’t expecting everything to magically fall into place. I want to take it one day at a time, and right now, my best friend and I are standing side by side, and that is all that matters to me.

There’s a sound from the set of stairs toward the back, and I already know who’s making their way down the creaky steps from the apartment above the shop. The distinct sound is something I have heard countless times over the years. Tasha’s mom, Mina, rarely had anything but a bright, sunny smile on her face, and as she comes into view, it looks like that hasn’t changed an iota as my mom and I meet her at the bottom of the stairs. Tasha is my best friend, and Mina is my mom’s.

“I thought I heard you two. Come here!” Mina pulls us into a tight hug, squishing the three of us together. As we break apart, she asks, “Have you two already been up to the cabin?”

I look to my mom to answer. “We have. We actually just came from there. Thank you again for taking care of everything, Mina. It’s made everything manageable.”

Mina smiles warmly, taking hold of my mom’s arm. “Of course! Happy to help, but it wasn’t just me; a lot of us pitched in, so it was no trouble at all.”

The four of us chat for a few minutes about trivial things, like how the weather was on the drive up, but I can tell Tasha is as anxious as I am to go out to dinner like we’ve been planning for weeks.

Unable to wait any longer, Tasha interrupts. “I say we let you two catch up. Maven and I have other plans.” Tasha winks at me.

“You mean you don’t want to sit and talk with two middle-aged women all night?” Mina replies with a smirk.

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