"The Mess is Happening" (StoryADay Challenge/Day 14)

THE PROMPT:  (BY ROBB CADIGAN, A FORMER COPYWRITER AND TELEVISION EXECUTIVE, NOVELIST (PHOENIXVILLE RISING) AND CO-OWNER OF READS & COMPANY, A FIRST-CLASS INDEPENDENT BOOKSTORE IN PHOENIXVILLE, PA.)

This is one of the front windows of Reads & Company Bookshop in Phoenixville PA. The stage is set for books to display.

Write a story inspired by this photo (below):

The flight from Newark Liberty International Airport to LAX is about six hours. I always struggle to sleep on planes. My good friend Rashawn will be in his assigned seat, seatbelt on, fast asleep before the cabin door has even closed. I'd stare at his sleeping face, envious of this superpower. For me, sleep on planes comes in broken fragments, scattered and ever elusive. Usually, I’ll select a movie to watch, sleep through a few scenes, then wake up again. Rinse and repeat. But now more than often I bring whatever book I’m currently buried in. Sometimes the words will begin to blur on the page and I know the next fragment of sleep is now arriving.

I know I should have packed a week ago, but I was busy with work, school and basically just the rugged trials of everyday life. I had two assignments to complete and email to my professors. A project at work that needed my attention and tech support weighed heavily on more of my time. Then squeezing in a workout of my yoga mat via an app on my Android. Then cramming some makeshift dinner down my throat to stay alive. That’s the life of Regina as it stands. And oh yes, I’m going to California to be M.O.H in my big sister’s wedding. I’m genuinely thrilled. I just need to breathe.

On my way home from work, I stopped at my favorite indie bookstore, Jasper’s Books. As soon as my feet cross the threshold, I immediately feel at peace here. I feel my anxiety fall away and my shoulders relax and lower. Two days ago I finished this fantastic book of short stories and was looking for something perhaps along a similar vein. Inside the store was a handful of people browsing the shelves and displays. I see Quentin sweeping in the back, I wave to him. He smiles at me. Quentin is always wearing a knit beanie and vans, no matter the temperature outside. It’s his look, and I actually kind of dig it. He never seems to really care what anyone thinks. And not in an arrogant way at all, he’s actually very thoughtful and funny. And since I’ve been coming to the bookstore, he has given me excellent book recommendations. And when someone recommends a book, I take it very seriously. And if the book is a home run, I  basically fall in love with that person a little bit. 

“Hey Reg!” Quentin said, from behind me. 

He’s the only person that calls me that. It’s our thing. It makes me feel cool.

“You startled me, dude,” I said, laughing. “How are you?”

“I’m well. Trying to keep dust from destroying these works of literature,” he said, holding up the broom like a trident before leaning it against the wall. “And how are you?”

“I’m overloaded, but hanging in there. Flying to California tomorrow morning for Terry’s wedding.”

“Oh that’s right,” he said. “I bet you're not packed.” 

“You know me well.”

He laughs. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Not really. Have any recommendations for me?”

Quentin taps his chin for a moment. He actually looks like he’s in deep thought.

“There’s a couple books I just finished that I really liked.”

Quentin emphasized the word really. When he does that, it basically means the book revealed some kind of revelation to him. My ears perk up.

“Quentin, the suspense is killing,” I joke.

“Let me go grab them.” 

He goes around me, walking with his hands behind his back like a sensei. He grabs the books from varying places in the store and returns.

“This one,” he said, passing me a slim book with a minimal cover. “Life is Happening, by Brian Ramos. A powerful book. Please read it.”

“I certainly will-”

“There's this beautiful part in the first chapter where he writes: ‘Everyone values other love, all the while having the love they need. I wonder why we seek outside with so much within.’”

I was momentarily speechless.  Those words and Quentin’s ability to recall them with such ease and grace, I was already sold. 

“And this is the other one,” he said, handing me this pocket-sized yellow book with a lovely line drawing of a woman on the cover. “It’s called The Mess I’ve Made: Vol.1 by Belinda Louis. Trust me just read it.”

I hugged Quentin. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime,” he said, smiling. “Come let me ring you up and get you on your way.”

Quentin scanned both books and put them in a small paper bag. “Here you Reg.”

“Thanks.”

“Safe travels. Give your sister my regards and well-wishes,” he said. 

“I absolutely will.” I said, grabbing the bag and turning to leave.

“Reg,” Quentin said, stopping me. “When you get back, would you like to maybe get dinner and drinks? 

I gathered myself and smiled. “I’d thought you’d never ask.” On a Jasper’s Books business card, I scribbled down my number, gave it to him and left.  

Although he’s never met my sister, we’ve spoken about her. On how she always encouraged me to read and explore new topics and ideas. She encouraged me to not be afraid to open up my perspective and horizon by reading openly and widely. She taught me to truly never judge a book by its cover. When I actually think about it, it’s because of her that I love reading and learning. I wanted to emulate her. She was my hero. She still is. And she’s going to be an incredible wife. My brother-in-law-to-be better get himself in formation. 

The End.

**This is a work of fiction. Names. characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.