if walls could talk or text down a Side street

 

Faun didn’t have the chance to properly reply to Grant because Jessica and Jennifer arrived, bursting through the bookshop’s glass-windowed doors with excited enthusiasm. 

“Uhh….”was all Faun could say, glancing up at Grant and ….it was at that moment that froze for awhile between them then ….when ….he noticed that glimmer of helpless terror fleetingly cross her face—what was that? he wondered….because it was quickly gone with a quick, perhaps —forced— laugh as she said under her breath, instead to Grant, as if to make light of the moment, “remind me not to give them sugar and maybe we should skip the coffee today!”

“Too late,” Grant then said as he nodded towards where they made for, like a bee-line as—already they had the espresso machine going 

“Shit!” she whispered and without another pause ran over, “wait! let me teach you first how it works!” 

But clearly, they had watched her plenty of times by now that —Faun noticed they knew what to do so, then just shrugged and let them. 

“Quick studies,” Grant said as he had by now caught up with her and placed one hand on her arm, “well, I’ll let you get to it, then—I’ve got work in Arthur’s office—I’ll meet you after….”he started to turn as if to go just then but paused, “I’d meant to call but—it was rude of me not to, I’m sorry and there’s no excuse except that between the building renovation to repair your wall —and the funerals and the law….”

“Wait, did you say—repair my wall?” Faun asked, even as she slowly rewound his other words and weighed it in her mind whether or not to forgive him so easily or make him suffer but—the Bishops’ faces loomed in her mind, guilting her thoughts 

“Oh—yeah—right—you don’t know ….”he winced just then and scratched his sable-brown, bearded chin thoughtfully and looked around to see who was nearby. 

There were a few shoppers in the next section looking at the shop’s packaged signature coffee and gossiping about the shop owners’ mysterious deaths. 

Their voices carried over as one said, “I heard it was carbon monoxide!”

Grant absently touched her elbow through the grey cashmere turtle neck she wore, as he thought over what to say,

“erm—whilst it was not just the alarms that had to be installed —as it turned out ….well—it is almost complete and it’s a good thing that it was taken care of straight away —“

Most of what he said she could not understand because he was speaking rather fast —as he was trying to decide on how to tell her….

“What are you talking about?”Faun asked him finding herself lost 

“I’ll tell you later—“ he started to leave and walk away but she grabbed hold of his coat sleeve, and the sheer force of her action caused her to swing into him, as he caught her from colliding into him headfirst

“No—wait—so, does that mean I still have to stay at the inn?”she asked looking up at him and trying not to let herself be ….drawn in by his lush, spring meadow eyes and ….so she forced herself to just —hold her breath —as he caught her from colliding into him headfirst

with hardly a beat, he said,

“I’m told it’s to be completed by tomorrow but—there is more than enough room in my bed, perhaps I should have said so before….” and for half a second it looked as if he was about to kiss her. So close was his face to hers. 

Until the sound of breaking ceramic from the cafe area broke the mood  

“I think you may have your hands full here,” Grant winked at Faun and did a slight wave, “I’ll see you later.”

“But —what happened to my ….wall?” she asked more to herself as he was by now, too far from her to hear 

looking for a Side Street Sign

 

faun had been staying at the local inn; the cops put her up there while they investigated her bedroom and then ….they’d spoken to Grant about installing an alarm system 

Grant. 

Well, who else could the cops think to ask as he was the nearest thing to a relative or a legal responsible party. 

Anyway, that had been their last conversation and it was in front of the cops. And. Hardly romantic. 

There was a lot to do, anyway. So, every time she felt that heavy sense of loss, something came up. 

The inn helped; another impersonal place to be; a great escape from the self. That is the best part of leaving any place, the best part of finding somewhere else to go that has zero memories attached to it. 

At the shop there were so many customers. Or they were mostly curious about what happened to the Bishops. It even caused the local tv station news show to turn up and do an impromptu interview with Faun on the spot. But she had done that before anyway, for previous jobs, so, it was like automatic pilot for her on what to say….at least about politics and books….suspicious deaths of the well known local shop owners? Who were the suspects? Good thing she went with the somber black turtle neck and the serious long grey skirt with high boots that day.

Of course Pierre Reaux made another appearance. Officer Sullivan called him when they were dusting her bedroom.

****

And now standing in the middle of the bookshop’s first floor behind the cash register area, gazing out towards the windows that were the views of the street side. The shop, you see, was off a side street of the Main Street of town. So, often there were people passing by; kids going to or leaving from school; some people walking dogs, or there would be the postal delivery person; passing cars or trucks would go by intermittently 

It had been several days at the inn. And the impersonal sense forced her to go about her days like a robot. When she got to the shop, each day had been a day of catch up—and with the excitement of the town being so present every day there, she was so busy occupied talking to curious people that the moments in between she had to straighten the books; put things away; clean the shop and balance the daily funds (the owners deaths were very profitable for their shop) before running to drop the deposit in the evening…. 

So by the time it was time to drive herself towards the inn ….and wonder when she last ate….and what there was to find to eat anywhere ….each night became an exhausted affair of sunflower seed butter and apples, as she soaked in the bathtub listening to Buddhist meditational music from her phone, before crawling into one of the two giant beds the impersonal but beautiful room the inn was furnished with. And the slick warm colored walls (ochre with a few abstract paintings) echoed. 

The girls (Jessica snd Jennifer) would be on their way soon, Faun noted the time on her watch, aware of how the sun light was dimming on the street. The girls’ mothers had signed the consent forms and both came in at separate times to drop off the slips, as the two mothers seemed to not like the other but the two were both almost indistinguishable from the other. 

Already exhausted as it was Friday, now of a long month of this— so, Faun was looking forward to the idea of having the girls to take the pressure off her feet—and do some catch up with her own life…. at least for a day and a half ….finally one day to do laundry; something to look forward to ….

So, as she stood there, she thought about this ….and decided she needed another day off.

It took less than five minutes to get the sign set up once she found something to write it on. She wrote “New Shop Hours: Monday-Saturday 10-6, closed Sunday”

But she only had it up about less than five seconds when someone came walking in and tore it off the door where she had stuck it

“Now, that’s not happening!” the culprit exclaimed 

“Sheila!” Faun gasped 

“I’m sorry, Faun, but you cannot be closed on Sunday—any other day, but not Sunday!”

Sheila was a regular. A six foot two lovely and striking trans woman who had an astrological clientele that often met her at the shop. By now, Faun had noticed that Sheila was practically a fixture at the shop; the back table was where Sheila conducted her business, and obviously considered/assumed Sheila’s domain as she was so often planted there among piles of astrology books and papers —and usually left neatly behind awaiting her pending return.

But Faun was at this point just too worn out to take her on and could only limply shrug,

“I have the girls starting tonight, and tomorrow—but it’s just me every other day here —I just need another day off, Sheila!” she tried to appeal reasonably

“Sunday is the only day when Gary leaves me the car—well, besides Saturday but Saturday is mostly shopping—but Sunday is my only day! You can’t do this to me, Faun!”

That was when ….she looked up and saw Grant walking across the street. Looking smart in his winter coat ….

“What?” she whispered looking up at Sheila

“You can’t close on Sunday’s!”

Faun moved to turn away from the door so as not to seem to notice ….as she did notice ….that he was walking to the shop’s door 

Why now? Where had he been all week? Why had he not said hello since the last message she left him days ago….

“I just need that day to be able to come here and not have to worry about meeting Gary when he comes to pick me up here—I mean….”

Sheila glanced at the man who walked in and then back at Faun,

“so—here’s an idea, why don’t I work your Sundays from now on?”

That was the moment Grant stood in front of Faun with the cash register counter between them with Shiela leaning on the counter casually watching the both of them 

Grant—with the decency to look sheepish— looked from Sheila to Faun and then smiled,

“I think that’s an excellent idea —then I could ask you to see a film with me Sunday—erm— unless Saturday works better.”

hit and run down a side st

 

She found that his silences made her sad

she had not heard from him since the other day —the day after ….and a lot of things had happened that day —but….

and she berated herself for feeling this way….how his silences made her sad….this was just something she never encountered before that sense of loss of —being locked out; ostracized and why should she care? who was he to her anyway? and it served her right that she learned the same lesson again for ….falling for all the things he claimed to promise ….she was exhausted of being a dumb pawn object to some guy who really didn’t care about her

it felt like a rock in her stomach ….the sad feeling of betrayal ….why didn’t he call?—send a message? after everything, she deserved some acknowledgment ….but as the busy days at the shop followed, 

   And the new strange evidence that they had missed due to witches brew 

What strange evidence, indeed. As it had happened Faun had said that next morning, rushing to get ready for the shop, leaving his bed,

“how embarrassing! I’m sure you and our cop friend had a good laugh over how my bedroom looked? All my underwear everywhere—I was in such a hurry!—I overslept, you see—so that’s why my clothes are all over the floor like that! I usually make my bed too.”

Grant had looked at her blankly for a moment. 

As she noticed that his morning sleepy face was so appealing; his bed head hair a sexy mess that it made her want to ignore facing the day outside and just stay here in bed with him. 

“What?” she had missed what he said—was it the accent or her thoughts?

“I said, don’t be silly— that your room looks very tidy—the bed was made, as it happens, it looked like a hotel, to be honest—that’s what Officer Sullivan said anyway.”

“What?” she just had her arms back through the burgundy dress to go back downstairs and then back up to her own room next door to get ready for a day at the shop 

Grant looked blankly back at her,

“which part?”

“I didn’t make my bed,” she said this like someone trying to reassure the other person that they were not insane 

“What?—you….but no—we saw—it was—because it even had the hotel edges—that’s why he commented, we were impressed at your bed making skills.”

“Shut up!” she blurted this out. It was just insane what he was saying. Clearly he was teasing, ‘having her on’ as he’d say ….she looked at him sideways, “are you teasing me?”

“About….?”

With arms still half pulled through the dress, she systematically collected her strewn belongings as she walked to and through his bedroom door, down the stairs, through the kitchen doorway(still left ajar) and then up her stairs to her bedroom.

She stood outside her bedroom door. She stared into the room. After a few moments she walked to her antique and battered up Victorian dresser with the layers of paint peeling away; now pink; now blue; now gold; now white….and in three neat stacks done with professionally laundry style attention to care, were all the clothes she had left in rejected piles on the floor!

She remembered this vividly ….and she didn’t know how to fold that way …..

Someone had been there

If that didn’t give it away, who was there decided to leave a calling card —across the pillow lay one of her camisoles; this one black lace with tiny satin ribbons 

a private investigation exploration Undercover on the side st

Suffice it to say—something did happen between them. 

King Leopold soon craved his bone and left them, eventually settled by the door of Grant’s bedroom and fell asleep there. 

And maybe it was the warmth of the room or the sudden absence of warmth from the departure of the regal canine’s chaperoning body —she moved toward Grant in sleep, seeking his warm body, and then, so close against him there, her back spooning up against him, she fall back asleep. In her sleep she was dreaming about being tangled in a giant spider web and turned instinctively into the curve of his arms as she slept. And because it felt so good, eventually she turned to face him while she was sleeping ….it seemed in a hazy, round about place in her mind about then that she might be over dressed in her burgundy dress, as it caught her up in it tangling her legs and trapped her so when he said,

“here, let me help you,” against her ear

in her sleepy mind, it was perfect timing to be rescued ….and after the zip down, he pulled it all over her head in one vast move, released her, “here, and this,” he said releasing the hooks behind her

In her sleepy mind, it slowly dawned upon her, 

            this part wasn’t the dream….

moving into the warmth of him —and it was some time after dawn when this private investigation, exploration was momentarily satisfied 

dog eared comic sutra

 

He had promised to be a gentleman. 

And for a moment he did think about having said this even as he was confident of his ability to withstand any great and off-limits temptations ….but this was not really the issue at the moment as ….as Halloween drew to a close with the departure of Aunt Fiona and Arthur ….here he found himself a stranger in a strange land and having to figure out what should happen next with all the legal details ….that Faun was there —it seemed something the Bishops might have done —getting themselves killed even if it got them together ….Aunt Fiona secretly loved her romance novels —he’d recently found her secret horde of Barbara Cartlands and there had been one she had beside her on the bedside table when he —found her

This was hardly a bad incidental outcome and he thought about how Faun looked earlier that day as he was watching her at the shop. 

So….no. The idea of being alone on a creepy night —with ….someone ….who just happened to be the person who had caught his eye ….days before they had met, actually—was not a bad unexpected development. He had seen her from Arthur’s window as she was leaving after an afternoon tea with Fiona. He had been with Arthur in his office, going over ledgers and ….computer files ….but who was she —?had been on his mind just days before they met. And they had told him about her when he finally got to ask—which was only the day before ….the carbon monoxide poisoning 

The gruesome memory of finding his aunt —now made it clear why …. why should this attraction be so strong now with events going on now?—the connection he felt with her; their odd timing —how they always did things at the exact same times —or spoke, sometimes it was like they’d identify too close to the other’s move ending up walking into the other, like senses hyper aware of the other’s….every move

But she lay at present, like dead weight. Staring up into space. As though utterly spaced out. As if the mattress had sucked her into it. Her limbs felt they weighed a ton. The ceiling …..

“The constellations ….” she said looking up at the slanted ceiling and above where she now recognized the plastic pieces that were green, phosphorescent and star-shaped were all grouped like the Milky Way which had to be another Grant trademark thing that —made her at war with her now tangled burgundy dress because this new exposed detail about him made her body crave him more than ever, and so she pressed herself to him as she moved over him to press herself to him there

He said,

“yes.” 

But to what was he answering?

And moving her into a better angle whilst solving the dress malfunction, he bit her neck and said into her ear,

“I keep my word ….just to cuddle—as a gentleman….” even as his hand pressed the backside of her burgundy dress, and flattened his hand as he moved it lower, suggesting otherwise, “or king Leopold will have me sent to the dungeons….”

And that is why another, with perfect timing, by the namesake, made his presence known 

with a round of invading barks and an unceremonious and very clumsy, earth-quaking jump onto the bed 

what’s to come with that brew? on the side st

 

And so, it was due to the Witch’s Brew that had the effect of putting a soft fringe around the reality of life as seen through the burgundy color; alizarin crimson 

as he ascended the stairs, she had almost forgot all the wild events of the last few days. It was something about his scent and the textures of him; how she couldn’t help herself from putting her hands on him; in his hair and fingers running down his face, the sharpness against her fingertips as she felt along his jaw, she was drawn to touch him everywhere at once, like an innate subtle craving

She stopped thinking —when ever ….he was near her. And as soon as she could sense his thoughts when he looked at her that way he had. He had such a look about him, and that was usually enough to make her mind go to putty….the day?—a murder?—or two?—some intruder?….but he could make it all disappear 

And when they reached upstairs to his room —it smelled like him, not in a bad way, but besides his scent, it felt clear his presence lived there; was it something in the slant of the roof above the wood framed bed that had no headboard? Or….. the wall against it which was exposed red brick and where there was a kind of Mexican blanket nailed above where a headboard would be —and this had brown and red designs, like the brick behind it. 

The colors were all dark shades in there. The other wall was painted a lush, dark rich brown that went with the colors of the rag rugs on the floor, as well as the antique quilts on the bed; no doubt from one of Arthur’s finds.

It was like stepping into another dimension—beyond the trappings, those other things laying about that were clearly Grant trademark of him —she had come to pick up on him, about him. 

It was too dark to see whatever he moved around to quickly remove from sight but she was looking, instead at the colorful boxers (Pokémon) that had not made it into the thing posing as a laundry basket, but it was the strewn video games and the array of junk food evidence which were left in odd places, even as it was otherwise, fairly neat —but it was this which strangely burned into her senses. In fact, she found herself drawn to the spot upon the bed he clearly favored as the outline impression of his head was still in the pillow there, so when he dropped her there, her face fell into it and witch’sbrew, be damed, she inhaled it. 

It was something inexplicable but there about him—and it was this very thing that she became aware of now, freed of all reserve and previous reservations. What were they about agsin? She couldn’t remember, and slinking and coiling into his scent filled sheets, she undulated, unaware as she did —as the brew hit that ….other level 

side st side step mysteries & evasion

“Tell me about yourself,” he said, not wanting to think anymore about the recent events, pulling the long sweeping fringe from her dark eyes and holding her face looking up at him, liking how she looked caught within his grasp.

They were still on the kitchen chair, her legs around him, having finished their meal together 

“There really isn’t that much to tell,” she glanced away from the distraction of his eyes and wondered how to answer him, “I just moved here to Portsburgh to start my life over—find a new direction,” and while the wine relaxed her enough to say this, her discomfort of the details of her life held resistance 

“Why did you choose Portsburgh?”

But still looking away from the distraction of his compelling eyes, she smiled slightly and shrugged, 

“it seemed as good a place as any. To start over.”

“Do you have family here?” he asked her

She didn’t answer right away. These were questions she had managed to avoid with people. Sometimes she answered with rehearsed replies she had carefully selected from past conversations. 

But all she said was,

“no.”

“Was it a job that fell through?” he tried to prompt her, becoming curious with her reluctance to elaborate 

And because of the wine, she couldn’t remember all those prepared answers she usually used. But, she also didn’t want to be fake to him. She stared at the way the candle over on the counter by the sink flickered and again, simply said,

“no.”

“So you just came here with —no idea what you would do?”

Only now did she look back at him. She now sought his eyes and it was because of her intoxicated mind…. that allowed something vulnerable to surface from just the sound of his lilting voice; the gentle tone it had…. it caused her mind to turn to putty. And his eyes mirrored that ability to cause her to react; and, forgetting herself, she let herself tumble inside them. 

Perhaps that was a mistake; they made her feel so safe…. inside them. And for a moment, she forgot his question. She just allowed herself this safety. A safety that ….she had not known for so long. Maybe never. And the feeling wrapped her in its warmth, so she could not find the desire to leave this feeling and she could only stare inside them. 

As his fingers started to caress her cheek, she felt his arms tighten slightly around her. Soon she realized she hadn’t answered his question, so vaguely she said,

“I read about it here—it sounded nice….so—I just packed up my car and started driving….”

Or something like that ….it was too involved for her to think about right now. 

“That’s extraordinary! You’re so brave! I’ve never done anything like that!” he said smiling as he forced her to look at him as she had pulled her eyes away from the vague compliment 

Her face colored brightly as she turned her gaze back at him,

“not really so brave,” she said dropping her eyes, “maybe cowardly. I was….”

But she suddenly stopped what she was about to say. She wasn’t sure if she should say what almost slipped right out 

“What?” he asked, sensing this and his touch along her cheek moved along the angled cheekbone that followed the slant of her eyes and his seemed to hold her captive there, like his arms that had subtly pulled her closer to him, his warmth weakening her resistance 

“I was running away.”

“From….?”

She stared up at him,

“someone.”

“A man?” he asked

“Yes,” she admitted with some relief being able to share this and sighed, “this seemed the last place he’d ever look for me.”

“Who is he?” he asked her, “an ex?”

“Yes,” she looked back at him, “what about you? What about your life and—“ she wanted to say ‘that person with that otherworldly ringtone’ but instead she said, “your job back home? Shouldn’t you be getting back to it? Why were you visiting the Bishops in the first place—was it a holiday?”

Grant sighed heavily and leaned back against the chair, but he didn’t release her from his arms. Instead he pulled her closer,

“Some of it has to do with work—but also for Arthur and Aunt Fiona—I come here several times a year—or rather—came….to help Arthur with the website and book keeping….” he sighed, “but this I’d rather not talk about, I’d rather hear about you.”

“I’d like to know about you—like, where are you from, for instance?—what about your….family?”

“It’s not that interesting,” he said evasively now and went on to say, “I’m from a dull industrial part of the country, it wouldn’t interest you—I’d really rather know more about you. It takes a tough person, I think, to decide to just leave and start all over without knowing a single person where you are going to. And no plan. I admire that.”

What he said surprised her. She had never thought of herself as tough. 

For whatever reason, she sensed, he didn’t like to talk about himself but then, nor did she. She decided to respect his space and let him pull her head against him, his fingers in her hair as she listened to his heartbeat. 

But the heat from her body released more of that scent of her and it went to his head, and without hesitation he ran his hands down the back of her, following the path of the long zipper that held her burgundy dress together. He followed it back up to the top and his fingers played with the zipper as he captured the back of her skull into his hand and kissed her suddenly on the mouth, turning her head up to him as he stood up, hoisting her slightly in his arms as he stood, holding her with her legs still wrapped around him.

“Would you like to go upstairs—I promise to behave—or back in the sitting room?” he asked her

It had been a long time since anyone held her this way, it reminded her of her childhood and waking from nightmares and the feeling of his arms around her forced all logical thoughts away,

“I haven’t seen your room where you stay—can you show it to me? I’m just a bit curious.”