not Livia or Antonia? And what was his name? She put another book on the shelf. She liked Jack, the blacksmith. Maggie called him ‘Jack’ to tease him. His name was John, of course. He hated the French and Jack was just a variant of Jacques. How did I know that? Victoria rubbed her eyes. She set the book down and wandered into her shower and turned on the hot water. She took off her clothes and stood in it until the steam covered the glass and fogged the stall. Her hair slicked down her back and her face was hot with the water but she did not feel clean.
She soaped herself and rinsed, then did it again. And a third time.
“Maggie,” she heard him call her. She put her hand on the tap and stopped the water so she could listen.
“Yes?” she whispered. If it were him, he would hear her no matter how softly she spoke.
“Help me.”
She pushed the sliding door open hard and leaped naked from the shower into her bedroom. Empty. She dripped on her carpet as chill bumps raised on her arms. “Where are you?” she called. Then louder, “Who are you?”
The day before Sharon and the boys were scheduled to move in, Victoria drove to the older part of downtown and parked. She put all her change in the meter and walked down the old sidewalk and looked in the windows of the dilapidated storefronts. This section of the city was the vibrant shopping center when her parents were kids. Now the trash-strewn gutters and cracked pavement reminded her of apocalyptic movies from the seventies. Tucked away between all night theatres and abandoned shoe stores was a second-hand bookshop. She knew this from her college days when she had to track down an out-of-print volume to make her thesis more interesting than the twelve hundred other ones being submitted that semester.
She stopped in front of a dirty window. Empty. Too much time had passed already. The bookshop was no more. The door was open, though, like many of the abandoned shops. There was nothing left to steal, and a locked door only encouraged vagrants to break windows. She pushed on the glass and stepped inside. No lights meant it was dim inside, but she could see a shaft of light at the other end that suggested the back door was open as well.
She heard a dull thump. “Hello?” she called out instinctively before cursing under her breath. She should turn around and try a library instead of calling to some crackhead or drunk sheltering inside.
“Yes?” The answering voice did not sound drugged or drunk.
“Sorry. I was looking for the bookstore that was here…” years ago, she finished to herself.
“No one reads books anymore.” An old man stepped into the half light. Victoria thought he looked like a drunk or a druggie, but his eyes were too bright. He wore a long white beard and the very top of his head was bald. Over his ears his white hair was long and touched his shoulders. He looked like da Vinci.
“I do.” She replied a little defensively.
“You are one of those,” he smiled. His teeth were still good, straight and white. Though they could be dentures.
Victoria smiled back, but she was aware it probably looked more like a grimace. “I am one of those. I came to look for a book, but it is too late.”
“Yes. I just packed up the last volume.” He smiled sadly again. “If you had come last week I could have helped you find that book.”
“Oh?” Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. Not a vagrant. A bookseller. Hard to tell the difference anymore.
“What were you looking for? I ask only out of curiosity. Everything can be found online, now. Why come downtown?”
Victoria agreed. “You can buy anything online, but you have to know what you are looking for. I was hoping to talk to the bookseller and get some answers. I am still not sure what I am trying to buy.”
The old man laughed. “Then step into my office,” he made an expansive gesture with his hands and pointed to the back door. She followed him through the dusty interior of the old bookshop. The marks where the shelves used to be were evident on the floor and the walls. The occasional scrap of paper and dust jacket littered the cracked linoleum. At the back door Victoria looked out at the service entrance and a small panel truck.
“You have heard of