a kid in a teen mystery who fell in a cave and figured why not explore it. Except this was surreal grit. All hands and minds are dirty. No punches pulled. Kiko was leading us to a place that had special meaning to me and she didn’t even know it. She was guiding me to the spot that changed my life forever. Sometimes empty is better. The bookstore was losing customers. I wasn’t sure where they went. “Oh I thought I was alone.” “No such thing.” Her celestial eyes came at me like a tsunami wave almost knocking the book loose. “I’m Missy.” Her face sculpted from secluded rocks found inside a holy waterfall. “Farrow.” “You give a good first impression Farrow, standing there with that book in your hand as if it was a treasure that only fits you.” The woman could have said anything and I would have agreed. “Thanks.” Little did she know the book I was holding wasn’t actually a book that was ordered and sold in this particular store. It was a book I wrote myself and printed by mail order in a Canadian milltown. I smuggled a copy or two into every bookstore and library in New York. They could keep the profits and I would keep the readers. At least that was how the plan originated. After I left the copies on the shelves, I would stop by periodically to see if anyone took them home. Inspecting if the binding or pages were creased. More often than not the copies were still there untouched. It was at that very moment I decided that my next book would have Missy on the cover. That way it would be irresistible. Wait! Even better… “Missy my next book will be about you.” “What do you mean?” She seemed creeped out and flattered at the same time. “I mean… I don’t know you yet, but the feelings you evoke in me are enough to fill an entire book.” “A poem maybe. An epic poem full of exaggerations.” “At least a novella full of truths, but when you go that far, you might as well keep going.” “Sounds like a mystery.” “Yeah a mystery about you Missy.” “If you write it, I’ll read it.” Missy tried to read the book’s title in my hand, but I was careful to shield it. Of course the bookstore was no longer. Now we had little choice, but to stare emptily at the banker in the ceiling high window “Fish in a tank.” Kiko was thorough with her due diligence. “Don’t make eye-contact or…” A streetlady covered in lesions grumbled, picking half a burning cigarette off the cement before making her way for the nearest alley. It was too late for us all. The banker exited the fishbowl, adjusting to the natural light. “Do you have an account with us?” “What happened to the bookstore?” Kiko dwelled within rage. “What do you mean?” “There was a great bookstore here.” I explained to him, but it didn’t register. “Our bank has more branches than any other financial institution in the world. There’s one every two and three-quarter blocks and what’s even better is…” His voice trailed off only when we managed to put enough distance between us.
{XXVI}
“A BSURD HOW SOMEBODY CAN TAKE credit for something as large as finding the new world.” Kiko was staring up at the monument in Columbus Circle as if she was watching a fleet of ships enter the harbor. “Nobody finds a new world alone.” Pitch black night dissolves into the foggy glow of midtown. Somehow my little girl would have to lead me to her. I didn’t know where to start. The world felt huge and we were just ants on the steps of a marble tomb. “Don’t take it the wrong way Farrow, but Hawaii’s story sounds like bullshit. I’m not sure any of this even happened.” Fountains percussively pour onto marble. Skaters grind their trucks and slide their tails. Strollers roll and nannies squawk. “It’s overwhelming.” The fountains paused for a brief silence. The vase shattered. Roses and shards of glass all over the floor. Missy swung what was left of it at me. The top,