Page 68 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
I miss you. So very much.
It had been a simple text, but the words were from her heart. There was so much more that she wanted to say, too. That she missed the way Ella’s eyes lit up when she talked about something she liked. Or the fire that crept into them when she spoke with conviction. The way her presence felt like a satisfying breath after a long day. How her fingers found Max’s when they were close, even when they weren’t supposed to touch. She also missed all of the memories they could have been making right this very moment if circumstances had been different. Even thebook club, which had been a part of Max’s life long before laying eyes on Ella Baker, now felt incomplete without her presence.
A day went by. Two. Three. Unfortunately, Ella didn’t return the message.
Max drove home from work well after nine, having stayed late at the office on purpose. Distraction was her best friend, keeping her from overthinking. Maybe she’d been right about the whole love game all along. Letting her heart even tentatively hope had been a bold move. Love was never the gentle thing that poets promised.
“You’re being dramatic,” she said as she stood in front of the elevator to her apartment.
“Me?” her neighbor asked when the doors opened.
“Sorry, Tom. No. But you should know, love sucks.”
Tom exited the elevator, and she entered it, switching spots. “I don’t know,” he said. “Meg and I have been married for eighteen years.”
“So far,” she said with a shrug as the elevator doors closed.
“That was dark. Even for you, Max,” Tom’s voice called as the elevator began to move. It wasn’t until she got to her apartment that she saw she had a message on her phone from Stevie.
Awful news. Doug’s is on fire. Fire department there now.
What the hell?
The news smacked Max square in the face. It wasn’t the kind of message you ever expected to receive. Some things in life feel sacred, off-limits for anything unlucky or tragic to ever touch them. Doug’s was one of those entities. She prayed the damage was minor while wondering what had gone wrong and what she could do to help. As thoughts raced and swirled, oneconcept rose to the top of her mind. A business as beloved as Doug’s would be more than just a loss to this city. There was, quite simply, no place like that little bookstore, unique and chock-full of character. The corkboard at the back of the store was responsible for the inception of Read It and Weep Book Club, which gave way to the important friendships Max now treasured.
Rumors flew on social media about what had caused the place to ignite. Some people said that a specific group of kids had a grudge against Doug and had intentionally set fire to the place. Others felt that Doug seemed the type to light candles, and maybe he’d left one burning after hours. It took the fire department two days to determine that a power surge had likely caused the coffee maker to overheat and spark.The damned coffee makerof all things.
Max drove by the store later that week. The building still stood, but its heart had been hollowed out by fire. Through the veil of soot and char, she could make out slouching shelves, their warped frames leaning on each other like fallen warriors. The sight twisted something deep inside her. Doug had poured himself into this place, and now it was a ruin, and Max couldn’t stop wondering how Ella was holding up.
Everything in her wanted to ask—to hear Ella’s voice, to be the person she turned to. But reaching out meant opening a door Ella might not be ready to walk through, and Max would never be the one to push her through it.
With a slow breath, she pressed the gas, driving on but not away. She didn’t have answers, but she’d find a way to help. Letting this bookstore disappear, letting Doug lose everything, letting Ella carry it alone? Unthinkable.
It was Thursday,but it didn’t feel like it. On Thursdays, Ella generally swung into Doug’s in the mid-morning and worked there until mid-afternoon when she got hungry and returned home for a sandwich. She’d design for most of the morning until Doug hit a lull, and then she’d work with him on his social media. He was actually becoming quite adept at Instagram and had even started following a few independent bookstores and a couple of authors he wanted to attract to the store.
This first Thursday since the fire was Ella’s least favorite Thursday ever. She was listless, depressed, and a little pissed off about it. The overcast skies did little to improve her mood, which even coffee couldn’t help at this point.
“If you were a cartoon, there would be spiky lines flying off of you,” Rachel said, watching her from the fridge.
“That tracks.” She eyed Rachel, who wore a cream-colored skirt and a white blouse. “Why are you dressed up for the living room?”
“I have an interview.”
“That’s awesome!” She might have shouted that too loudly, based on the fact that Rachel launched herself into the air and spilled a little bit of half-and-half from the carton in her hand. “Sorry. I felt a rush of positive energy and had to act before it was gone.”
“Clearly.” Rachel still wasn’t her bubbly self in Ella’s presence, but they’d worked out a decent rhythm of civility, and maybe one day they’d get there.
“Is it a retail job? Should we pack you a lunch?” She glanced around the kitchen for supplies. “What do you need?”
“Ella. Slow down. I don’t need anything.”
She froze. “Got it. No. You’re right. I’m just jumpy today. In my head.”
“Well, you’ve been in those pajamas for a couple of days. Why don’t you get dressed? Touch some grass.”
“I should be at Doug’s right now.”
Rachel kicked a hip against the counter, bag on her shoulder. “How is he?”
