The Light of the World, page 10
Eva was growing increasingly irritated with her grandmother’s cryptic sixteen-year-old self. Mary still had yet to write out Wren’s full name, while other people were always referred to by their first names. She liked the nickname, but attempting to figure out what it was short for had presented Eva with too many options for her liking.
It created a sense of mystery around the identity of Wren. She wanted to know who this woman was. There was a connection between the two girls that Eva recognized as one she’d experienced herself a few times in high school. Close, intense friendships, especially ones that formed quickly like this, were the hallmarks of lifelong friendships. Or more.
Now that was a weird thought.
All the insinuations and rumors that skirted the edges of Eva’s childhood memories of her grandmother came roaring back to her. Eva shook her head. Her grandmother was just taken with this girl who offered her friendship when she really didn’t have any before. The girls at Mrs. Talbot’s seemed catty and Mary had written about how she couldn’t relate to them easily. This was a manifestation of that need for companionship, it had to be.
Eva wasn’t going to read into things. She was not inclined to make assumptions about things like potential lady crushes out of the blue like the rest of the people in her family.
She leaned forward and picked up the pen, adding her great uncles’ names to the list. They’d both been dead for years, but maybe searching online for them would turn up some sort of connection or lead. As she worked through the entries she had already read, she kept coming back to the website that she’d found a few nights before. The webmaster might be able to help her track down the names and places in the diaries.
Eva scribbled down the name R.M. Perkins, the attorney for whom her grandmother had worked, and sat back on the couch. There was a sense of dread that came with asking for help, a fear that she would never be seen as good enough if she relied on others for assistance. She knew it was foolish, but that was the problem of her illness even though she tried not to let it rule her day-to-day life. It flared up when she had to ask for help with things that she thought she should be able to manage on her own.
If she contacted anyone, it would make this all very real. All of this would no longer be a game of speculation in her head, but rather a reality that she would have to discuss with others.
Eva had grown up during the Internet age; she’d had friends who’d had good and bad experiences meeting people on the Internet. She wasn’t sure if the man behind the website would want to help her or turn out to be a total creep.
Eva sighed. She was using her parents’ scare tactics when it came to the Internet. She wasn’t afraid of meeting people online. Her fears had nothing to do with that. The knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach tightened when she thought about what this man’s help might uncover.
Whatever her grandmother had buried might be better staying buried. What if it was something scandalous? Eva wasn’t sure that there was subtext there, but what if her grandmother had loved another girl? What if she asked for help and that was the answer that they found? How would her parents react to that bombshell? Would they care?
Their easy acceptance of Eva’s interest in girls as well as boys made her assume it wouldn’t be an issue now, but she couldn’t be sure. Maybe it would absolutely shatter Dad’s world. Eva wasn’t sure how to even begin to broach the topic with her father. Were these old stories about a sixteen-year-old girl better left forgotten? Did she want to go airing what essentially amounted to family secrets to a complete stranger?
Eva puffed out her cheeks and glanced down at her watch. It was too late to try calling the bookshop and it was a holiday weekend so the shop owner, a Mr. Theodore Schultz, probably wasn’t around.
Asking for help was the worst option, but it was also a necessity if she wanted to push on. She needed someone who’d grown up here and had lived in the neighborhood for many years to parse out the changes that had happened over time. She was not sure if this bookseller was the answer, but he was as good a place as any to start.
At college, Eva considered studying history. She had an interest in the law and had thought a lot about the possibility of writing about historical events. She’d never gotten beyond the core courses before she’d withdrawn, and the classes she had taken were focused on periods of history before her grandmother’s time. She felt utterly mystified by some of the historical references her grandmother made.
In a way, reading about her grandmother’s grand adventure living alone in the city at sixteen made Eva feel awful. She was twenty-two and hadn’t decided what she wanted to do with her life. Sometimes Eva felt as though she still hadn’t decided if she wanted to live it yet.
Eva reached for her phone. She was feeling utterly overwhelmed again by the completely indefinable mass of the “the future” pressing down around her, and didn’t want to think about it anymore. It would only make her feel sadder. Half buried under the legal pad, her phone blinked with a new notification. Her dad had texted to tell her that he’d gotten home okay. Eva flicked her thumb across the screen, navigating to her email app.
Late last night, during a fit of pique over her inability to find anything more in her grandmother’s documents relating to Wren, Eva had looked up the contact information for Mr. Schultz. She stared at a blank email for a long time before typing out his email address, fat-fingering the keys a few times and having to go back to correct herself more than once. Tongue caught between her teeth, Eva began to type. It was slow going, with a lot of muttering about the autocorrect, but soon a message began to take shape.
Mr. Schultz,
My name is Eva Kessler. I found your email address on your website about mid-1920s local historical landmarks while searching for Mrs. Talbot’s boarding house. My grandmother, Mary Kessler (you might have known her, she was out and about in the neighborhood quite often until she passed away last month), was a resident of that boarding house in 1925. Your website was very helpful. I’m looking to try to track down some of her old friends and colleagues and I need some help doing that. I don’t have a clue where to start. Would you be interested in assisting?
My grandmother wasn’t much for sharing her past, and when asked she always spoke about the light of the world going out. I was wondering, as you appear to be something of an expert on the time period when she first started using that term, if you could spare any insight into the time when she was living at the boarding house. I want to find out if any of her friends from that era are still alive, as I mentioned before. This is something of a family mystery, since my grandmother was so tight-lipped about her youth.
I’m not sure if you are open tomorrow as it is Labor Day, but please let me know if you are.
Thank you,
Eva Kessler
Eva read the email a few times over to make sure that it made sense and that she hadn’t fallen victim to autocorrect’s changing her words around. On more than on occasion, Eva had made an ass of herself doing that. She felt an anxiety about her writing that she could never calm.
She set her phone down on the table and leaned back against the couch. She nursed her tea and stared at her largely incomplete list of names. Maybe Mr. Schultz would have some old pictures or something that he could show her—and maybe they’d be able to figure out who Wren was.
That night she did not dream. After the unwelcome visits from the faceless girl, a dreamless sleep was a godsend. Eva woke up to find a blinking notification on her phone. Still half asleep, she stared at it for a moment before her brain registered what it was. She had an email back from Mr. Schultz.
Her mind felt hazy, she’d yet to take her meds. She rolled over and reached for the pill bottle, half-buried in her purse. She popped it open and dry swallowed the little blue pill. It went down rough, and she had to pull herself up and wander into the kitchen to get a drink of water before she was able to sit down and read the email.
As her brain woke up and the pill took its hold, Eva’s mind settled and her ability to concentrate returned. She swiped her thumb over the screen and opened her email app. The email was short and to the point, and she was momentarily taken aback by its brusque tone. If Mr. Schultz was a no-nonsense type, it might make this process easier.
Eva,
We are, in fact, open today from 10-7. The shop is usually busy on the weekends. If you were to stop by in the mid-morning there’s usually a bit of a lull before the lunchtime crowd starts to arrive when we would be able to speak.
Did your grandmother leave behind any papers or documentation? The Light of the World is not a commonly discussed cultural phenomenon. If she did leave any, would you mind bringing them with you when you come?
Thank you for taking the time to not only find me, but email me as well,
Theo Schultz
Eva stared at the email for a long time, reading it over and over, before opening up a new email to reply. There was something weirdly pushy about the way that Mr. Schultz was asking for documents that she didn’t like. Also, she had mentioned the light of the world very much in passing and she wasn’t interested in trying to solve that mystery. Not yet, at any rate. She wanted to know more about who Wren was, maybe track down a name.
Mr. Schultz,
I was more hoping that you could point me in the right direction regarding some of the names in my grandmother’s papers, actually. The light of the world, as far as I can tell, was just an expression she used. I’m not entirely sure that I’m comfortable sharing the diaries with a complete stranger, as they’re really personal.
I’ll definitely come down sometime before noon.
Thanks,
Eva Kessler
By the time Eva was ready to leave the cool sanctuary of the apartment, the sun was already beating down outside and the temperature was skyrocketing toward the nineties. These were the worst days of summer, the tail end and last hurrah. Eva dressed for the day, tugging on a T-shirt from a concert that had cut-off sleeves and a braided neckline she’d done herself. Shorts were a necessity, but she had walking to do, so she wore her battered All Stars instead of sandals. She paused in front of the bathroom mirror to tug her hair into a messy bun, pinning her bangs off her face with a few ancient-looking bobby pins of her grandmother’s that had been overlooked when they were cleaning the bathroom earlier in the week.
Just as she was gathering her things, her phone chimed in her pocket. Another email.
Eva,
I am something of an expert on the phenomenon of the Light of the World, which is why I asked about it when you emailed me initially. Again, I’ll state that it is not the sort of concept that a person simply mentions in passing, which is why I would like to see your grandmother’s papers if at all possible.
I understand though, that this could be hard for you, but urge you to bring them with you when you come.
Looking forward to meeting you,
Theo Schultz
Eva left the apartment and immediately regretted her choice to wear a dark-colored shirt. Even with cut-off sleeves, it was far too hot to wear anything other than light colors today. She hurried over to the shady side of the streets because she could already feel her body temperature starting to rise. The last thing she wanted to do was show up to speak to Mr. Schultz looking as if she’d just run five miles.
After reading Mr. Schultz’s email, Eva wasn’t sure that she wanted to bring the diaries with her. She ended up deciding to just bring the January diary and leave the rest behind. If Mr. Schultz turned out to not be a total weirdo, she’d consider letting him see the rest of the diaries.
She tucked the journal into her pocket. After walking for two blocks, Eva wondered if she should have put the diary into some sort of a heat-resistant bag. Would the heat damage it?
This is why I need Theo Schultz’s help. She had no idea how to properly handle documents that were so old, or what sort of protection they would need in order to be transported around in a hot Brooklyn morning. Feeling a little helpless, Eva quickened her pace. Fall can’t come soon enough.
Chapter 9
Schultz’s Booksellers & Antiquities
The bookstore was off a side street that fed into a busy intersection, and Eva nearly walked right past the nondescript storefront. It was only by sheer chance that she glanced upward to see a small, faded black sign with chipped gold lettering indicating that this was a bookshop that dealt in rare books and antiquities.
In the storefront window was a display of recent best sellers, propped up and arranged on a piece of fabric that had once been red. It was sun-bleached and faded, making the whole display look shabby. Eva wondered if it was done for the aesthetic, to appeal to the hipsters who were slowly invading the neighborhood. She shrugged. It wasn’t her place to judge what a worthwhile display was, anyway. She pushed the door open.
Inside, it was cool and dark, and it took a moment before Eva’s eyes adjusted to the gloom and the brightly colored spots at the corners of her eyes disappeared. Every available surface in the bookshop was crammed with books. Long shelves ran perpendicular to the doorway, falling back into darkness. They were marked with hand-drawn signs on cheap poster paper that were decorated with swirls and a creative flair that made Eva smile. They were definitely trying to appeal to the hipster demographic.
Across from the entrance was a counter space and a low children’s bookshelf displaying picture books that Eva remembered from when she was a kid. A boy was sitting in one of the two armchairs that were arranged at the front of the shop, reading one of the thicker Harry Potter books. He glanced at Eva as she stepped inside before going back to his book.
Behind the counter, a bored-looking guy of indeterminate ethnicity leaned on one elbow as he flipped through something on his phone. His skin was deeply tanned and his hair was locked into strands of medium thickness. He was toying with one that had fallen loose from the band holding his dreads behind his head.
When the door snapped shut behind her, the bells affixed to the door handle jangled. He looked up. He was not-quite-shaven and had a defined square chin and intriguingly bright eyes that glinted greenish-gold in the sunlight. “Can I help you?” he asked. His accent said he was a local.
Eva squinted. He had a name tag pinned to his faded and slightly moth-eaten V-neck shirt that read “Al.” She smiled and approached the counter. He grinned back at her. His smile was crooked and charming.
“I’m looking for Mr. Schultz.” Her purse swung down and thumped against her thigh. “He should be expecting me; I emailed him this morning… Eva Kessler?”
Al’s brow furrowed as if trying to recall. After a moment he nodded. “He’s out the back with Liv.” Stepping around the counter, he jerked one tan thumb toward the blackness at the back of the store. He was lanky and a lot taller than Eva. “Wouldn’t stop talking about your email earlier.”
Eva flushed, feeling sweaty and embarrassed that she hadn’t bothered to make sure that they knew she was coming. She had not thought to email back after reading Mr. Schultz’s final reply, but instead chose to hurry though her morning ablutions and out the door. She’d woken up late, it was a holiday weekend, and she’d had to hurry to meet him at the time that he’d suggested. “Uh, he did?”
“Yeah.” Al shrugged. “No idea why, though.” He gestured with his chin toward the back of the store. There was a door back there, half-hidden in gloom and stacks upon stacks of books. “They’re just through the door there. Knock, you might save Dad from one of Liv’s tirades.”
Who is Liv? Eva guessed another staff member of the bookshop, but she’d been wrong before. She supposed she’d find out. “Mr. Schultz is your father?” She was curious. Should she be trying to make a better impression on this guy? Eva worried at the inside of her lip, trying not to bite it and look out of her depth or anxious.
He made an affirmative noise before slinking back behind the counter in his low-riding jeans and worn-out shirt. “I take it we might be seeing more of you?” He picked up a pencil and tapped it on a folded-up newspaper on the counter that Eva hadn’t noticed before. He clicked his phone back on and consulted the screen before writing a word into the puzzle. He’d been cheating at the crossword! She gave a little mock-horrified gasp. He grinned sheepishly at her. “I was stuck.”
“I’m sure,” Eva said stiffly. She wasn’t able to keep the smile from her face, though. She was brought up in a family where cheating at the crossword was on the same level as having sex in a church—it simply was not done. It was a great affront to the crossword gods that Al was a dirty cheater. “Your dad sounded pretty keen to see some of my grandmother’s old papers,” she said, patting her pocket, “so we’ll see.”
“Well, cool.” Al gave a mock-salute and went back to his crossword. He paused, the back of his chewed-on pencil halfway to his mouth, and met Eva’s eyes once more, winking. “Be seeing you around then.”
Her cheeks burning, Eva hurried away down the first line of bookshelves she came upon. She did not like it when guys flirted with her, even if the banter was easy and to be expected. Al seemed nice enough, though, and that was what made it difficult to forget his charming smile.
She pushed him from her thoughts. She was here to get help puzzling out her grandmother’s diaries and maybe figure out what the heck the light of the world was, not to flirt with cute shop boys.
The aisle was clogged with books stacked on the floor and two or sometimes three deep on sagging shelves. The door at the back of the shop was clear of them, but just barely. Eva had to move carefully so as not to upset any unstable towers of books. She knocked on the door, anxiously raising a hand to pat her hair into something resembling order.
She knew that she looked flustered; a combination of the heat and Al’s easy smile had done her in. She sucked in a deep breath, struggling mightily to school her expression into something politely neutral. It was a lesson she’d learned while in recovery—how to pretend that she wasn’t feeling anything at all.
