Page 7 of Margins

He’s only gone for a minute, and Alex is talking before he gets all the way back.

“Okay, so you’re a bartender with wonderful memories of this house, but you won’t stay here because you’re a relationship disaster and it’s too big for you, the dog, and whatever your grandpa left behind.”

“And you’re the newly single father who hangs out at garage sales, probably mostly to spend quality time with the aforementioned dog, though carting an old book back and forth suggests there may be at least one other reason,” Elijah retorts, an already familiar grin on his face. “You ready to tell me what’s up?”

“Did the books belong to your grandpa?”

“As far as I know, yeah. I mean, he was a huge reader and I remember those bookshelves being full my whole life. My brother and his family brought some of this other stuff with them when they moved in, but I don’t think any of the books were theirs.”

“Okay, I—I’m probably just caught up because of whatever other shit’s going on in my head, but—” Alex pulls the book toward him and takes a deep breath before he opens it. “There are some handwritten messages in here, and I thought they were interesting. Like a secret love kind of thing.”

To his credit, Elijah already looks more interested than Alex thought he would be. “Secret love notes? And you think they were written by my grandparents?”

“Maybe,” Alex says. “Did either of their names start with E?”

“No, but let me see the handwriting.” Alex ignores the bookmark still tucked where he’d left off last night and flips to the first message, then helps Elijah move on to the second and third. Elijah just shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t look familiar. Are there responses from E?”

“Nope, that was the weird thing. I was wondering if maybe they used it as more of a diary. You know, just a way for this person to confess their feelings somewhere.”

There’s a pause as Elijah considers that, but then he frowns and points to the page. “But then this wouldn’t really make sense: because it’s one more reason to see you, and these books are the only thing we can give each other. If they gave each other books, E would have had to see the messages, right?”

“Yeah, okay, that does sound more like the books were a way to pass the messages back and forth, but then where’s the other half?”

“Well, it says ‘books,’ not ‘book,’ so there’s probably at least one more. Maybe E has it.”

“And reading through all these notes will only give half of the story, if that.”

“Unless you can find something in the other books you bought,” Elijah points out. “Did you look through them yet?”

“No. Hell, I didn’t even read all the messages in this one. I started to think I was being kind of weird or creepy about it.”

“You’re very weird, but not all that creepy. And I think you should definitely check the other books.”

Alex snorts. “Wow, thanks for the reassurance.”

“Hey, no, it’s good,” Elijah promises, the tip of his tongue there to tease Alex when it pokes out from between his lips. “I love books and I love history and I don’t mind a good love story despite my own inability to live one, so maybe I’m weird too. You gonna read through the rest of this one now?”

“Mmmm, no, I think I want to see if I can find the other half first. Then I can read them back and forth, the way they were written.”

Somebody calls out with a quick question, and after Elijah answers, he pulls out his phone. “What’s your number?”

“My number?”

“Um, or not. I just—” he starts. “To the neighborhood’s certain dismay, I’m not gonna be doing garage sales here every morning, so if you find something else and feel like sharing some of your weirdness—you know, with me or Poe—”

“Yeah, no, sorry, I—of course. Sure,” Alex stammers, giving him his phone number just seconds before he hears the chirp of an incoming text.

“Now you’ve got mine. Fingers crossed you find something good.”

“Because then I’ll have a reason to text you back?”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’m sure you could find a reason either way,” Elijah says. “I think you’ve got enough of your own story to tell.”

Chapter Three

Aquick stop at home lasts only long enough for Alex to grab his wallet and head back out, taking care of errands he might have done during the week, except that they seem like a good enough excuse to get out of the house now, when there would be too much to think about in the silence. He doesn’t want to miss Cassidy and Elena, and he doesn’t want to get lost in a love story that doesn’t belong to him, and he doesn’t want to think about why the last two mornings are the best he’s had in a while.

Alex has had constant comfort for so long, a good life with nothing particularly wrong, and he doesn’t understand how to want anything different now. Where would he even go from good? Because it seems like maybe better and worse are the only options, and he doesn’t know those words outside of the vows he and Cassidy have carefully disassembled over the past several months.

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