Friday, November 1, 2013

"Public Displays of Convention," chapter 8

Chapter 8 of Public Displays of Convention. Only two preview chapters left! Catch up on previous chapters here.


     There are several ways to tell it’s officially spring: the crocuses peeking out of the ground, the leaves growing back on the trees, and the flurry of engagements of people who have never been anything more than acquaintances to me.
     Somehow, I end up clicking through dozens of Facebook photos of rings, hundreds of congratulatory messages…and I feel increasingly pathetic with every wasted minute of envying others’ happiness, but once I start, I don’t know how to stop.
     Luckily, graduation is just three weeks away. I have no idea where this new season of life will take me, but Tess’ roommate is graduating too and moving back with her family, so I’ll be taking her place once I sign away my little box of a dorm room. I’ve always preferred to live alone, but I can’t afford a full month’s rent by myself, and Tess is the only logical roommate choice. Just one step closer to growing up, however small the step may be.
     At Book Nook today I helped a rare male customer who was looking for a gift for his girlfriend’s birthday. He proved to be the most difficult customer I’ve helped yet. It wasn’t him that was the problem – he was polite, cordial, smiled a lot – it was the fact that the girlfriend, whoever she is, had literary interests so similar to my own; it was like helping Jared shop for a gift. My heart splintered when he purchased My Sister’s Keeper, another one of my favorites. It was all I could do to fight back tears as I handed back his change.
     “Hey, Weepy,” interrupts Eryn. I swear that woman has a gift for speaking up at all the wrong moments. “It’s all right, really. We only sold one copy of Twilight today!”
     I laugh, in spite of myself. “Well thank God for that. It’s just so hard, you know? All those young minds being corrupted by poorly-written literature –”
     “At least it wasn’t Fifty Shades of Grey,” pipes Morgan, and we both turn around, shocked: it’s the most I’ve heard her say since I started working here.
     “Hey now,” Eryn retorts. “At least Christian Grey is a real man who doesn’t sparkle, for goodness sake.”
     “There ought to be to parental advisory warnings on some of these shelves,” Morgan continues. I don’t know what’s more surprising: Morgan actually talking, or instigating a debate with Eryn. It’s not that I’m afraid of her, but Eryn definitely comes across as someone who doesn’t believe in censoring her opinions, no matter what the context. Personally I’d rather steer clear of her than challenge her.
     “I’ll admit they’re not the most well-written books I’ve ever read,” replies Eryn, “But I give props to the author for trying to normalize taboo –”
     “You mean sadomasochistic abuse.”
     “It’s not abuse if she wants it!”
     I can’t believe I’m hearing this. The only other time I can remember wanting to crawl beneath the floor boards and hibernate was when I fell asleep watching a movie with Jared, and woke up to find I’d drooled all over his sleeve.
     “What do you think, Anna-Kate?”
     I pretend I’m so immersed in the act of stapling receipts: anything to avoid eye contact with Eryn. “I’m sorry, what?”
     “Morgan seems to think the S&M activity in Fifty Shades of Grey is misogynistic and abusive; I say whatever floats your boat is fine as long as everyone’s cool with it. What do YOU think?”
     My throat feels lined with sandpaper. “I haven’t read that book, so I really can’t say.”
     This seems to be the answer Eryn expected to hear. “Well, in my experience –”
     “No one wants to hear about your experiences, Eryn.” Dang, where is Morgan’s fire coming from all of a sudden? She must only speak when she’s really irritated about something.
     “Oh, that’s right. I forgot I was speaking to virgin ears.” She says virgin like it’s a dirty word, too scandalous even for someone with Eryn’s brazenness. Her hoop earrings, so large I can probably fit my hand through them, clang as she shakes her head; a move that seems to summarize the personality I’ve come to expect from her.
     Turning to me again, she asks, “Do you have a boyfriend, Anna-Kate?”
     Because this workday just hasn’t been awkward enough. “No,” I say, teeth clenched. “I don’t.”
     “It’s a lot easier not to. It’s nice not to be tied down, you know?”
     Curiously, I turn to look at Morgan, whose face now looks like mine did when I was helping that guy pick out a present for his girlfriend. Eryn must have triggered something in her, as she’s retreated back to her usual mouse-like self, and scurries back into the fiction section.
     Interestingly, now that it’s over I’m almost grateful for Eryn’s brashness today, for no other reason except to show me a possible ally in my shy co-worker. I wonder if Morgan has always been quiet, or if she’s harboring a secret devastation like I am. Maybe this is the gateway for us to be friends.

No comments:

Post a Comment