Page 19 of The Things That Hold Us

I hold the door open for him, and once he hobbles his way in with his cane, I shut the door, and flip my sign.

“You know, I have a good feeling about today.” he tells me as he follows behind me to the front desk.

“Oh yea? Why’s that?” I ask.

“Love is in the air. I can feel it.”

I pause, looking around. I don't know why. It’s not like you canseelove in the air.

“Is that so? Well, I hope you're right. For your sake, I mean.”

He laughs, “The last time I felt this was 55 years ago. When I met my Margaret. Love was in the air then, too.”

“Oh wow. That’s a long time ago” I say.

“What can I say, when you know you know.”

I pause.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says.

I take a breath, not sure what's come over me and why I’m asking him this. Then say, “Please don’t think I’m prying, or get offended by this. But, Margaret was your true love. Your soulmate. Right?”

He nods, and waits for me to continue.

Very carefully. I have to word this carefully.

“Then how are you feeling love now, for someone who isn't her?”

His eyebrows shoot up, but he just stands there. Contemplating his answer I’m assuming.

Finally, he says, “You will never love someone the same way you loved your soul mate. It’s not possible. But, love is always possible. It won't feel the same, it won't look the same. But you are still capable of feeling love and giving love.”

I nod my head, not sure what else to do. I’m sure he’s right, but to me...that seems impossible.

I blink, clearing the thoughts from my head.

“Well, I’m glad you found it again. Now let's get you checked out so you can get to your date.”

Lunch time rolls around, and there's a few customers and a few drop offs. I just finished packing a large order of old knives someone from the next town over ordered over the phone to be shipped, when my phone starts ringing.

One of the perks of owning my own store is that I won’t get yelled at for things like this.

I pull it out of my back pocket, and see Cassie's name flash across the screen.

That's odd. She usually doesn't call me at work.

“Cass? Everything ok?” I ask her.

She houghs into the phone, “Yeah, but this paint is just sitting here staring at me like ‘I know you aren't about to try this by yourself’. It’s just mocking me at this point. Where the hell are you?”

Crap.

It's Thursday. I’m supposed to be at Cassie's to help her paint.

What is going on with my brain lately?

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