Page 6 of It's Me They Follow
Rose handed Ray and The Shopkeeper yellow tissues from her yellow purse because both of them needed one.
“My father, my grandfather—his name was Ray. And Ray was my first kiss.” He smiled a customer-service smile and pointed at the group to laugh on cue. “And I still miss him.”
The room fell silent and still and stayed that way for an uncomfortably long time.
The Good Doctor stood up. “Would anyone like a hug?” she finally asked.
“Yeah, I would... but from The Shopkeeper,” Ray joked. And went to sit on the floor in the corner knowing she would never hug him. He wasn’t thirty-year-old Ray anymore. He was five-year-old Ray, straightening his socks and spit shining his shoes.
The Shopkeeper gave Ray her smile in return, but her tears were flowing. “I would hug you, but then I’d have to kill you,” she shot back at him from across the room. The group erupted in uncomfortable laughter to break the uncomfortable tension. Ray and The Shopkeeper both laughed too.
Rose went and sat on the floor next to Ray and held his hand like The Shopkeeper wished she could.
“Ray’s story is also a teachable moment,” The Good Doctor said. She had two bright blue balloons blown up, sitting next to a large tank of water.
“When we have something happen to us that is so traumatic, so hard to bear, most people stuff it down. We try to bury it.” The Good Doctor took the first blue balloon and demonstrated trying to stuff the balloon under the surface of the water. “The problem with that is, we constantly have to fight to keep that trauma event suppressed—we must constantly fight to keep the balloon underwater. Ray, come up and see what I mean.” Ray came to the front and fought with the balloon, trying to keep it under the water, but the balloon kept fighting to pop back out of the top of the tank. “See? Even a big, strong guy like Ray can have a hard time keeping his balloon underwater. Thanks, Ray,” The Good Doctor said, taking the balloon back from him. “The problem is that when anything comes along that triggers a memory, that balloon not only comes to the surface, but it pops.” The Good Doctor dramaticallypopped the balloon at the surface of the water with a pin and startled the class, water splashing everywhere. “Then everyone around you gets all wet. And the cycle repeats.” The Good Doctor picked up the second blue balloon and placed it in the water. “This class is designed to help slowly bring trauma to the surface in a controlled manner.” She clipped the knot on the neck of the balloon with scissors and let the air seep out slowly. “When you write in this environment, your trauma can be released, not suppressed, just like this. You literally release yourself from the story of your trauma slowly with your peers.” She let the balloon deflate. “And you realize we are all just the same. Full of hot air. Any questions?”
There were no questions. They were wet and understood why.
“Last person to share,” The Good Doctor called out. “One more, something short. Then we can take a break.” The Shopkeeper and The Good Doctor caught eyes. “Your piece must have been really short.”
“Yup.”
“Sharing is caring.”
The Shopkeeper stood up. “I know, I know. ‘There are no apologies, excuses, or prefaces. When it’s time to read, just read.’ My piece is only three words long, so all of you can thank me later.” She held up a paper and showed it to the class.NEVER BEEN KISSED, it read.
A few people snickered. Someone said, “Yeah, right.”
“That’s my whole story.” The Shopkeeper stuffed the paper into her tote.
“But do you want to change that?” The Good Doctor snapped back. She was like the mother that The Shopkeeper never had.
The Shopkeeper thought about it for a second.
Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced, her grandmother used to say. Those sayings went in one ear and out the other.
“I don’t think I can change that on my own.” And with that, The Shopkeeper threw the pen into her bag and headed toward the door, holding up two fingers in a peace sign. “Break time.”
“You’re right,” The Good Doctor agreed and bit down on her lip.
They all needed a break.
Chapter 3
JANUARY 2, 2020
7:33 P.M.
The Shopkeeper couldn’t stand small talk at break time, so while the others had cigarettes and friendly banter, she crossed the street to the university bookstore to see how a bookstore was supposed to be run.
It had blinding fluorescent lights and a line of coffee drinkers that wrapped around the counter. This university bookstore was covered in logo’ed socks, shirts, mugs, fanny packs, water bottles, tank tops, key chains; they even had logo’ed boxer shorts and bobbleheads.Damn, they have it all here, she thought, trying on a too-small hat and too-big gloves. They sold everything.
Everything except for books.
“Excuse me, friend,” she whispered to the person in front of her in the massive coffee line, “where might I find the books?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
