Read Online The Green Man by Michael Bedard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Bedard
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being so vulnerable; angry at Emily for letting the shop slide so.
LITERARY CRITICISM – front room, left wall. She clambered up the ladder to the high shelves and squeezed one of the books Emily had handed her onto the already teeming shelf. From here, she had a bird’s-eye view of the shop. Emily was sitting at her desk, smiling up at her in approval. O’s anger melted and she managed a weak smile back.
For better or worse, the two of them were in this together. Emily hadn’t let the shop slide because she’d wanted to. She was not well, though she did a good job of denying it. And she was getting older. Most people her age had already retired. But what was she to do? This shop was her life; she was in every dusty corner of it. Not only did she work here, she lived here. If the shop wentunder – and it seemed just a question of time before it did – what would she do? Where would she live?
O’s vantage point from the top of the ladder suddenly gave her a new perspective on the problem. She was sure her father had no idea what he was sending her into. Emily was very good at candy-coating her situation. Her letters had not talked about the books that were accumulating at the bottom of the shelves for want of space. Her phone calls had not let out that little puff of dust that the book in PAPERBACK LITERATURE had let out. She was good at hiding the truth. She had always been a woman of secrets, and now the greatest secret was that under a veneer of stubborn independence stood someone in need of help.
Then and there, O decided she would do everything in her power to resurrect the Green Man. She couldn’t do much about the changes in the book business, but she could do something about the dust and disorder that had settled over the shop.
She could clean the windows, vacuum the display area, lay new felt down in place of the dingy, sun-bleached stuff that was there now. She could paint the outside of the shop; maybe even give the Green Man sign a facelift. Just thinking of it all was exhausting. But she started down the ladder with a new sense of purpose.
—
It was then she noticed a tall lean boy, with deep hooded eyes and an unruly shock of dark hair, browsing through the bargain bins outside the shop. He was dressed all in black, with a knapsack draped over one shoulder. Something about him captivated her from the start. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
O decided the feather duster needed shaking. She scrambled down the ladder and out the front door. The boy didn’t bother to look up. She gave the duster a brisk shake. The dust plumed off it. He still didn’t look up.
She thought about asking him if he needed any help, but by the time the thought made it from her mind to her mouth, he had wandered off down the street. She drifted back into the shop with the dust, wondering if this qualified as an encounter.
She spent the rest of the morning moving the dust around and rehearsing all the brilliant things she might have said.
13
O had been barely one month at the Green Man when, one morning over breakfast, Emily casually announced she had a doctor’s appointment and wondered if O could open the shop and take care of things until she got back. She’d be just a couple of hours, she said. The thought of being left on her own at the shop for the first time filled O with panic, but in a moment of madness, she said she thought she could manage.
At ten o’clock sharp, with the cashbox tucked under her arm, O headed down to the shop. She switched on the lights, flipped the sign in the door window, and stepped outside. As she was cranking out the awning to give a bit of shade, she glanced up at the Green Man.
He looked back at her through his squinty eyes, and the vines spilled from his mouth in a silent greeting. At first she’d thought his forehead was furrowed in anger, but now she imagined it was only fatigue. He had seen many things over time. Since his face was carved on both sides of the sign, he
LITERARY CRITICISM – front room, left wall. She clambered up the ladder to the high shelves and squeezed one of the books Emily had handed her onto the already teeming shelf. From here, she had a bird’s-eye view of the shop. Emily was sitting at her desk, smiling up at her in approval. O’s anger melted and she managed a weak smile back.
For better or worse, the two of them were in this together. Emily hadn’t let the shop slide because she’d wanted to. She was not well, though she did a good job of denying it. And she was getting older. Most people her age had already retired. But what was she to do? This shop was her life; she was in every dusty corner of it. Not only did she work here, she lived here. If the shop wentunder – and it seemed just a question of time before it did – what would she do? Where would she live?
O’s vantage point from the top of the ladder suddenly gave her a new perspective on the problem. She was sure her father had no idea what he was sending her into. Emily was very good at candy-coating her situation. Her letters had not talked about the books that were accumulating at the bottom of the shelves for want of space. Her phone calls had not let out that little puff of dust that the book in PAPERBACK LITERATURE had let out. She was good at hiding the truth. She had always been a woman of secrets, and now the greatest secret was that under a veneer of stubborn independence stood someone in need of help.
Then and there, O decided she would do everything in her power to resurrect the Green Man. She couldn’t do much about the changes in the book business, but she could do something about the dust and disorder that had settled over the shop.
She could clean the windows, vacuum the display area, lay new felt down in place of the dingy, sun-bleached stuff that was there now. She could paint the outside of the shop; maybe even give the Green Man sign a facelift. Just thinking of it all was exhausting. But she started down the ladder with a new sense of purpose.
—
It was then she noticed a tall lean boy, with deep hooded eyes and an unruly shock of dark hair, browsing through the bargain bins outside the shop. He was dressed all in black, with a knapsack draped over one shoulder. Something about him captivated her from the start. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
O decided the feather duster needed shaking. She scrambled down the ladder and out the front door. The boy didn’t bother to look up. She gave the duster a brisk shake. The dust plumed off it. He still didn’t look up.
She thought about asking him if he needed any help, but by the time the thought made it from her mind to her mouth, he had wandered off down the street. She drifted back into the shop with the dust, wondering if this qualified as an encounter.
She spent the rest of the morning moving the dust around and rehearsing all the brilliant things she might have said.
13
O had been barely one month at the Green Man when, one morning over breakfast, Emily casually announced she had a doctor’s appointment and wondered if O could open the shop and take care of things until she got back. She’d be just a couple of hours, she said. The thought of being left on her own at the shop for the first time filled O with panic, but in a moment of madness, she said she thought she could manage.
At ten o’clock sharp, with the cashbox tucked under her arm, O headed down to the shop. She switched on the lights, flipped the sign in the door window, and stepped outside. As she was cranking out the awning to give a bit of shade, she glanced up at the Green Man.
He looked back at her through his squinty eyes, and the vines spilled from his mouth in a silent greeting. At first she’d thought his forehead was furrowed in anger, but now she imagined it was only fatigue. He had seen many things over time. Since his face was carved on both sides of the sign, he
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