We paused in the lobby.
“I’m on the second floor,” he said, pointing toward the stairs.
“I’m on the third.”
We walked up two flights and he gave me that little two-fingered wave again.
“See you later, Red.”
“’Bye.”
I joined a few other people and plodded my way up to the third floor.
I hadn’t fulfilled my English requirements yet, so I was stuck taking Creative Writing. When I walked in, there were only about ten other people there. That did not bode well for being able to hide and listen to music. Great.
I found a seat in the back and close to the door and looked around. I felt pretty young; most of the people looked like they were quite a bit older than me.
I’d gotten a decent grade in my English comp class at UNH, but only because I’d been one of the few students who turned in assignments. I liked to read, but writing those insipid papers where you had to analyze what some dude who had died hundreds of years ago had meant by writing about rain or some such crap was pretty much the worst thing ever. Luckily, the more you seemed to bullshit, the better grade you got. Maybe I could do the same in this class.
A few more people trickled in until there were fifteen of us. The professor was the last one there, and he was everything a teacher of English should be. He even had a tweed jacket with those weird elbow patches and horn-rimmed glasses.
He called attendance and when he got to my name he asked me what I wanted to be called. I went with Jos again as he introduced himself as Greg and explained how the class would go. I’d skimmed the syllabus, but hadn’t really paid attention to it. As he explained what we’d be doing, my heart sank. We’d have to write something every week, and during at least one class period a week. And we had to read what we’d written. Out loud. And, if that wasn’t enough, he’d make copies of what we’d written and we’d all have a class discussion.
Welcome to your nightmare, Jos Archer.
Once again, since I was new, I didn’t have to do much, but this was going to be another class in which I was required to participate, even if I didn’t want to. At least half of the class looked like they’d rather be getting a lobotomy than be there, so at least I was in good company.
I suffered my way through and then I was finally done with classes for the day. I scurried away from Neville Hall as fast as I could before I could bump into Dusty again, and checked my phone. There were several missed texts from Renee, asking how classes were going, and one from my mother and another from Darah that was just a smiley face.
I could have gone back to the house, but I wanted to savor this time I had without anyone watching my every move. It wasn’t too cold, so I did a walk around campus, finding the rest of my classes for the next day and watching the other students go about their lives, wondering what it was like to be them.
When my legs started to get numb, despite the walking, I went back to my car. My instructions were to go right home, but I didn’t. I’d been dying to go to Bull Moose in Bangor, so I headed toward the mall. Bull Moose was pretty much the best music store in all of New England. I’d discovered them when I went to UNH and I was over the moon when I realized there was one close to UMaine.
It took some maneuvering and lane-switching to find the place, but I did.
The great thing about Bull Moose was that they had not only CDs, but records and old movies, and all the people who worked there knew what they were talking about. When I walked in, I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. Ah. I loved the comforting rows of cases, all ordered by genre and artist. Yes, most music could be purchased online, but you couldn’t duplicate the experience of going to a store and browsing yourself.
“Can I help you, little lady?” Jesus. H. Christ. I paused with my hand on a Radiohead CD that I didn’t currently own and turned to make sure he wasn’t a hallucination.
“No, thank you. I can pick out my own music.” That was a lie. I’d recently discovered The Black Keys, and I was hoping to find more bands like them, but I was never going to ask Dusty. Not in a million years. “Are you stalking me? Because, seriously, it’s getting ridiculous.”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s stalking me. I was here first. You came into my store.” I finally noticed he had a lanyard around his neck like the other guys who worked here.
“Oh, so this is your store? Do you own it?”
“Nope, but I do work here. And I’ve been going to Yellowfield House longer than you, too. So I was here first.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I said, putting the CD back. Even my music sanctuary had been invaded.
“So you’re into music,” Dusty said, straightening some of the CDs, as if he was pretending to work. “What kind?”
“Taylor Swift,” I said, just to throw him. Granted, I had listened to plenty of her stuff and some of it wasn’t so bad. But he didn’t know that.
“Well, we have a wide range of T Swift’s music for your listening pleasure.” He gestured toward the pop section. “I’m partial to her earlier work, but her newest album is getting great reviews.” I waited to see if he was being sarcastic.
“Can you just let me browse without being harassed? I get it enough at Renee’s, and I don’t need it from everyone else.” Wow, I did not mean to be that honest. What was it with me today? I seemed to be vocalizing everything I was thinking whether I meant to or not.
“Wow, easy, Red.” He put his hands up as if I’d held a gun to his head. “Just trying to be a good employee and help a customer, but if you want to be left alone, you got it.” He turned around and left before I could say anything else. I saw him talking to a few of the other guys and pointing at me. What fresh hell was this?
He came back a few minutes later as I was searching through the alt-rock section.
“Okay, so I’ve told everyone not to approach you unless you approach them first, so the store is yours, Joscelyn.” He waved his arms to indicate everything.
“Thanks.” It sounded like a question.
“Anytime.” One last grin and he was gone, off to the back of the store and through a door marked Employees Only. And I was left alone for the rest of my time in the store.
I found a couple CDs, but didn’t look as close as I wanted because I felt like all eyes were on me, even though every time I looked up, one or more of the employees were giving me looks like I was going to run over and stab them or something. God only knew what he had told them so they’d leave me alone. Then again, I probably didn’t want to know.
* * *
When I got back from my little Bull Moose trip, there were several cars parked in the driveway, so I had to settle for parking in the street.
“Hey, Miss I’m-not-going-to-text-my-sister-back.” Renee’s voice was the first thing I heard when I walked through the door and hung my coat up. Renee hopped up from the couch and came over to glare at me.
“I
