Close Enough
He despised the jarring sound of the doorbell every time he entered the shop. It made his eyes narrow and his shoulders cringe, prompting him to soften his steps to offset the loud noise. Fortunately, no one ever came looking for the expected intruder. So, he returned, sliding quickly between the rows of tall wooden shelves, wandering through the maze with his hands in his pockets, and dashing out when the city clock facing the hospital struck noon.
“Is there something specific you’re looking for, dear?” A soft, elderly voice with shuffling footsteps approached him. He cringed, his hands still in his pockets, feeling a skip in his heartbeat. He searched for the exit.
A five-foot-tall, grey-haired woman appeared, blocking the exit. With a limp in her right leg, she marched through the shelves towards him, her face lit up with a smile. As she drew closer, he noticed her red apron with the words ‘Don’t worry about a thing.’
Shaking his head unconvincingly, he muttered, “No, no, just, uh… looking for…” A flower vase caught his eye, fresh jasmine petals swaying in the air con breeze. “Cutlery.”
“Cutlery?” she inquired.
“Mm, yes,” he nodded, “cutlery.”
The awkward silence was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell as another customer walked in.
“I’ve seen you come in a few weeks now,” her accent heavy on the ‘weeks,’ making him hold his breath. He should have known someone would notice him. He wasn’t invisible.
He didn’t know what to say. Perhaps he felt guilty for being caught hiding in plain sight.
“I sense someone important in your life that brings you here,” she continued.
“Don’t you mean ‘think’?” he almost smirked.
“No,” she shook her head, “feel it in my heart.”
He cleared his throat. How could a total stranger unravel his thoughts like peeling an onion?
He had to say something to divert her supernatural intuition.
“I… I’m new in the neighbourhood, working at the accounts office two blocks away. I come here for breaks because it’s close to my office,” he explained.
“Oh, my mistake then,” she sounded disappointed. “I thought you work at the hospital, like a doctor or something. I’ve seen you cross the road when you leave.”
Feeling suspicious, he decided honesty was the best policy.
He confessed that he came to wait for visiting hours to see Rosa, the woman he had called mother for forty years but hadn’t spoken to since he left the country twenty years ago. A lot had changed since they last saw each other, and he wanted to see her before the other students she cared for arrived.
The old lady listened in silence, not showing any emotion.
“Is that the only reason you come to this shop?” she inquired.
“It faces the hospital, so…” he trailed off.
“There are ten shops facing the hospital,” she pointed out.
“I wanted to get her something, but I couldn’t find anything suitable,” he admitted.
“Does Rosa know you’re here?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. She’s been unconscious since I arrived two weeks ago, with tubes sticking out of her body,” he blinked back tears. “I wish I could express my gratitude to her.”
“Why don’t you tell her?” the old lady suggested.
“How?” he was puzzled. Did she not hear what he said?
“You can bring her something she likes. Gifts always make people feel better,” she advised.
“That’s the problem!” he exclaimed. “She can’t have flowers due to allergies, can’t have sweets because of blood sugar, and I don’t like giving ‘get well soon’ cards. It feels like rushing her recovery.”
The old lady let him catch his breath after his outburst.
“Well, it seems you know her well. Take a closer look. If there’s something here, you’ll find it,” she encouraged, patting his wrist before walking off towards the counter.
As she disappeared behind the shelves, he replayed her words in his mind. It had been so long. She must have changed a lot by now.
Distracted, he made his way to the exit and noticed a novel displayed in the archives section. He picked it up and smiled. “Rivers and Roses” by Rosa Delvine.
Leaving the shop with the book in hand, he knew he would find her in her own words.
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