Page 65 of The Book Swap

She leans back on the deep green velvet chair she’s pulled over toward me. “You know what I sometimes do when I have too much to think about. When I feel like I’m standing in the center of a shitstorm?”

I shake my head, desperate to hear anything that might help.

“I just focus on the next thing. I start at the bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy, and work my way up.”

She types something into her phone and brings up a picture of a colorful triangle, handing it to me. At the bottom of the triangle, it says “Physiological Needs. Air. Water. Food. Shelter.” At the word “shelter” I think immediately of my parents’ house. This time they don’t just need me; I need them too. I’m suddenly desperate to walk through that front door and see them. To have some moments with my mum, before I lose her for who knows how long.

“Thank you,” I say, handing the phone back. “That’s surprisingly helpful.”

Her face lights up and she stands, walking toward the door and turning the sign back around.

“I kind of owe you. Without you sending that message I wouldn’t have realized where I was going wrong with relationships. Mike wants a future with me, and you’re right... I hadn’t had anyone in my life who wanted that before.”

“I’m really happy for you,” I say, meaning it.

“Me too. Well, I suppose I should try to make some money today.” She stands up and I do the same, stretching and turning around to get my jacket.

Stopping for a second, I turn back toward Helena.

“How much is this chair?” I look at it, taking in the soft brown leather. I feel bonded to it. It’s enveloped me in its comfortable cushions for over an hour while I’ve spoken. Not once have I got pins and needles, or needed to shift position. It’s sort of like it was made for me. “I’ve just told it all of my secrets, so I feel like I owe it.”

“It’s my favorite one too,” Helena says, leading me to the till.

“I’m really sorry, for how I treated you,” I say as I hand my card over.

“You were a shit.” She types the price into the card machine and holds it out to me. “But I guess I was a shit to you in school. Sometimes there’s too much history.”

I push my card in and type the pin.

“You and Erin though. That’s different. That’s almost like the perfect amount of history.”

She hands me my receipt and I take it, my brain, for the first time in days, turning to the book I’m writing. The Perfect History. It could work as a title.

“Thank you.”

“Pleasure. And now we’re even. I finally helped you up after a fall—the way I should have at school. And you said sorry. Good luck with everything.”

I nod, and leave. So, she did remember that moment in the dining hall the whole time we were seeing each other; she was just too ashamed to admit it—in the same way I’m ashamed of how I behaved in the years since. Maybe she’s right. Maybe now, we’re even.

I don’t go to work. I get on the tube back to Brixton, having arranged delivery of the world’s comfiest chair, all the time wondering what Erin’s doing right now. Whether anything I said to her might have made a difference. Whether there’s a chance, at some point, she might get in touch with me.

I open up my emails to tell Dorothy that Mum isn’t well and I have to go back home. My heart jumps as I see Sophia’s name in my inbox.

Hi James,

I’ve just read your three chapters and I really love where you’re going with this.

You’re right, it’s very different to what I last read of your work, but it has the same qualities I witnessed before. The voice is really strong and I think you have a real story to tell.

I’d be delighted to read the rest of it if you’re ready to send it over?

Best,

Sophia

That book felt like it belonged to a whole other person, living a whole other life, until just moments ago. Now it’s like it’s slowly coming back to me.

It’s only after I call Dad and start packing that I realize I still have the books Erin left in the library. I’ve been so distracted by what happened, I forgot why I was even there that night. I pick up On the Road, flicking to the back of the book, to where my questions are. I feel something a tiny bit like hope as I read the last answer.

---