The Air He Breathes

Sam stopped by to change out the locks around the house later that week. I knew Faye called him creepy, but there was something so easy and friendly about him. He had blond hair that he spiked and rectangle glasses that somewhat hid his sweet, brown stare. His voice was always low when he spoke to me, and so sweet. If he thought he offended me—which he never did—he always kind of backtracked and apologized with a bit of a stutter.

“Some of these locks are extremely crappy, but others are in pretty great shape, actually, Elizabeth. Are you sure you want to change them all up?” he asked. “Sorry, that was a stupid question. You wouldn’t have asked me here if you didn’t need them changed. So sorry,” he apologized.

“No, it’s fine.” I smiled. “I just want a completely new start, that’s all.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded. “Of course. Well, I can be done here in a few hours or so.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh! Also, let me show you something.” He ran to his car and came back with a tiny thing in his hand. “My dad also just got a new security camera bundle deal if you’re interested. The cameras are this small and could easily be hidden out of sight. A few cameras could go up around the place for extra security. I know if I was a pretty woman living alone with my daughter, I would want the extra protection.”

I smiled, this time warily. “I think I’ll hold off on that for a while. Thanks again, Sam.”

“No problem at all.” He laughed. “The only person to buy these so far was Tanner, so I doubt they will be big sellers like my dad hoped for.”

He worked fast and was good at what he did. Before I knew it, all of the locks in the house were brand spanking new. “Anything else I can help ya with?” he asked.

“Nope! That’s it. I better get going actually. I have to be at the café in about ten minutes, and my car pretty much gave up on life, so I have to walk there.”

“No way. I’ll give you a ride.”

“No, no. I can walk.”

“It’s already starting to drizzle with rain. You don’t want to get caught in that. It’s really no big deal.”

My nose scrunched up. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” He held the passenger door of his truck open. “No problem at all.”

As we drove into town, Sam asked me why I thought Faye didn’t like him, but I tried my best to explain that Faye hardly liked anyone at first. “Give her some time, you’ll grow on her.”

“She said I have all the characteristics of a psychopath,” he joked.

“Yeah. She’s a bitch like that.”

“And your best friend.”

I smirked. “The best friend I’ve ever had.”

The rest of the way into town, Sam pointed out everyone we saw, telling me anything and everything he knew about them. He told me since most people thought he was weird, they ignored him, but that made it easy for him to eavesdrop on all the gossip around the town. “That right there is Lucy,” Sam said, pointing toward a girl on her cell phone. “She’s the best speller in town. Even won the annual spelling bee contest every year for the past five years. And over there is Monica. Her pops is a recovering alcoholic, but between you and me I know he drinks out by Bonnie Deen’s house on Friday nights. And over there is Jason. He kicked my ass a few months ago because he thought I called him somethin’ I didn’t call him. He apologized, though, saying he was on some bad drugs.”

“Wow, you really do know everything about everyone.”

He nodded. “You’ll have to let me take you out some time to a town meeting or something. Then I can show you the craziness that happens around this place.”

I smiled. “That would be awesome.” As we pulled up to the café, my gut tightened as I stared across the street. “What about him?” I asked, seeing Tristan running down the street with his headphones on. When he reached Mr. Henson’s store, he took off his headphones and stepped inside. “What’s his story?”

“You mean Tristan? He’s an asshole. And a bit crazy too.”

“Crazy?”

“Well, he works for Mr. Henson. You have to be a bit of a nut job to deal with him. Mr. Henson practices voodoo and stuff in his back room. It’s freaky. It’s a good thing Tanner has been trying to get the shop shut down.”

“What?”

“You didn’t hear? Tanner wants to expand his auto shop, and Mr. Henson’s store is the only thing keeping him from doing so. He’s been trying to start protests to get Mr. Henson to give up his store. He says it’s a waste of space since nobody ever goes into the place.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what the story behind Mr. Henson’s store truly was, and I couldn’t help but wonder why Tristan found himself working there.

***

During my shift, every now and then I would glance across the street at Mr. Henson’s shop where Tristan would be moving things around. The store was packed with all kinds of magical things. Crystals, tarot cards, wands…

“Do you have a vibrator?”

As the words left my best friend’s mouth, I was snapped from my mental wandering. I almost dropped the three plates of burgers and fries I was trying to balance. “Faye!” I whisper-shouted, my cheeks turning red instantly.

She glanced around the café, shocked by my response to her not-so-appropriate question. “What? You act as if I just asked if you had herpes. Vibrators are a normal thing nowadays, Liz, and I was just thinking the other day about your poor, dry, grandma vagina.”

My face was on fire. “How thoughtful of you.” I laughed, setting the plates in front of three elderly ladies who were giving me the rudest looks of distaste. “Anything else I can get you?” I asked.

“Maybe your friend could use a filter.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” I smiled and walked over to Faye, begging her to keep the vagina talk on the quiet side.

“Listen, Liz, all I’m saying is it’s been a long time since you had any action. What is it like down there? Is it kind of like George of the Jungle meets The Golden Girls? Is there more hair down below than up here?” she asked, tapping my head.

“I’m not answering that.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her little black book, which had always brought about trouble in the past. “What are you doing?” I asked warily.

“I’m finding a penis to help you tonight.”

“Faye. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of emotional connection with someone.”

“What the hell does sex have to do with emotions?” she wondered, completely serious. I didn’t even know how to tackle that question. “Anyway, I know this guy who can help you clean up your garden of weeds. His name is Edward. He’s a creative genius when it comes to that stuff. Once, he drew hearts down there on me for Valentine’s.”

“You’re so disturbing.”

She smiled. “I know. But I can set up an appointment with Edward Scissorhands for you, and then you can pick any guy in my book to have a nice, easy, one-night stand with.”

“I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Okay. You can lie down to do it, if you want.” She smirked. “But seriously, Liz. Have you thought about dating? Just getting out there around a few guys. It doesn’t have to be anything serious, but I think it could be good for you. I don’t want you to stay stuck in neutral.”

“I’m not stuck in neutral,” I argued, slightly offended. “It’s just—I have a daughter. And it’s only been a year since Steven’s death.”

Wow.

I was somewhat impressed by how it had rolled off my tongue without any backlash of emotion.

“I didn’t mean it in a harsh way. You know I love you, and you know how much Steven meant to me.”

“I know…”

“Look, I’m a womanwhore, but even womanwhores get their hearts broken sometimes, and for me, when things are hard to move on from, sex always helps.”

I laughed. “I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“I understand, sweetie. But if there comes a point when you feel as if you need my little book, you just let me know.”

I smiled. “Your book seems so small now. I could’ve sworn it was bigger before.”

Her hand dove into her apron again, and she pulled out two more books. “Don’t be silly. I was just trying to seem ladylike by only displaying one at a time.”

***

During my break, curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself stepping foot into Mr. Henson’s shop. Within a few seconds, it was easy to tell that Mr. Henson pretty much sold anything and everything magical. Half of the store was a coffee shop while the other half was set up like a closet that was filled with things I’d seen in many supernatural stories.

As I entered, the bell dinged above the door, causing Mr. Henson and Tristan to look at one another with confusion in their eyes. When they turned my way, I tried my best to act normal as I explored the store, even though I could still feel their eyes on me.

I paused for one moment, reaching to the top shelf of one of the bookcases for a book. A book of spells? Okay then. The binding was tied together with string, and it was covered in dust. I picked up another book. Both pieces looked older than dirt, but still somewhat beautiful. Dad had always loved finding old gems like those in vintage shops. He’d had a huge collection of old books in his study that were in different languages or on subjects he hadn’t any idea about, but he just loved how the covers felt and looked.

“How much for these two?” I asked Mr. Henson. He remained silent. I arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. Are you closed?” When my stare met Tristan’s, I held the books to my chest and my cheeks blushed over. “Hi.”

Mr. Henson cut into the conversation, which was probably for the best.

“Oh! No, no. We’re open. We just don’t get that many visitors. Especially visitors as easy to look at as you are,” Mr. Henson said, sitting down on the edge of the countertop. “What’s your name, darling?” His comment broke my stare away from Tristan, and I cleared my throat, somewhat pleased by the distraction.

“Elizabeth. And you?”

“I’m Mr. Henson. And if I weren’t four hundred times your senior and very engrossed in the male anatomy, I might think about taking you out dancing at the old barn house.”

“Dancing? What makes you think a girl like me would be interested in dancing?”

Mr. Henson kept the look of pleasure on his face and didn’t answer.

I walked over and sat beside him. “This is your store?”

“It is. Every inch, every square. Unless you want it.” Mr. Henson laughed. “Because if you want it, then it’s yours. Every inch, every square.”

“That’s very tempting. But I have to say, I have read every Stephen King book ever published five times over and the idea of taking on a store called Needful Things is a bit alarming.”

“Between you and me, I thought about calling it Answered Prayers, but I’m not much of a religious guy.”

I snickered. Tristan did too.

I looked over at him, pleased that we were laughing at the same time, so he stopped.

My eyes fell to the books. “Is it okay if I take these off your hands?”

“They’re yours, free of charge.”

“Oh, no… I want to pay.”

Going back and forth, the two of us argued about me taking the books for free, but I wouldn’t let up. Mr. Henson ultimately folded.

“And this is why I stick to my men. Women are too much like me. Come back in another day and I’ll give you a free tarot reading.”

I smiled. “That sounds like fun.”

He stood up and walked toward the storage room. “Tristan, ring her up, will you?” He turned to me and gave a slight nod before he disappeared into the back.

Tristan went to the cash register, and I followed.

I slowly laid the books on the counter. My eyes moved to the tan and black photos of the forest framed against the wall behind me. “Beautiful,” I said, staring at the pictures.

Tristan punched in made-up numbers for the books. “Thanks.”

“You took these?”

“No,” he said, glancing at the pictures. “I carved them out of wood then added the black ink.”

My mouth hung open in disbelief, and I moved closer. The closer I looked, the more I could tell that the ‘photos’ were actually wood carvings.

“Beautiful,” I muttered again. When my eyes locked with his, my stomach twisted with nerves. “Hi,” I repeated, this time with a sigh. “How are you?”

He rang my items up, ignoring my question. “Are you going to fucking pay or what?”

I frowned, but he didn’t seem to care. “I’m sorry. Yes. Here you go,” I said, handing him the money. I thanked him, and before I walked out of the store, I looked at him once more. “You act like such a jerk all the time, and the town only knows you as this callous man, but I saw you in the waiting room when you found out that Zeus was going to be okay. I saw you break down. I know you’re not a monster, Tristan. I just don’t understand why you pretend to be.”

“That’s your biggest mistake.”

“What is?” I asked.

“Pretending for a second that you know any damn thing about me.”