The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic(9)
The alternative, Sadie knew, could be disastrous. She’d sat with Raquel while she’d spiraled into a catatonic state, been with her when her manic episodes threatened her safety, and cried with her as her as she begged not to be broken. Raquel’s bipolar disorder was a roller coaster, but it was one that made her best friend the strongest and most courageous person she knew, even if she herself didn’t see it.
“And how’s yoga?”
“Working on the eight-angle pose. It’s a sight to behold,” Raquel said. “But the more I take care of my body, the better I feel.”
Just then, Annabelle Bennet walked by and threw a condescending smile in their direction. She’d never quite forgiven Sadie for outing her bra stuffing, and made it her life mission to make Sadie feel as small as possible. Still, Sadie smiled back and offered a wave as Raquel scowled.
“I can never decide if I should try to be nicer like you, or if I should try and make you more of a stone-cold bitch like me,” Raquel said as Annabelle took a seat at a table across the diner.
“I’m not nice,” Sadie countered.
“You would literally let someone shit on your doorstep and then apologize for not cleaning it up fast enough.”
“That—that’s disgusting, first of all. And second, it may seem like I’m nice, but really, it’s scathing sarcastic subtext. It’s a subtle art of insulting but doing it in such a way that the person doesn’t know if you’re joking or not. I mean, Annabelle tries, bless her, but the hatred shows in her eyes too much, you know?”
“Whatever you say, cari?o. But everyone knows you’re a big ol’ softie.”
Sadie stirred her coffee thoughtfully, opened her mouth, couldn’t think of anything to say that seemed true, and closed it again.
“Stop editing whatever you’re thinking about saying, and just spit it out.”
“Fine,” Sadie huffed, “even though that’s a rhetorical question because you’re my best friend, and you obviously know how I feel. My stomach is in knots at the thought of him being in the same town, let alone actually seeing him. And now I know what all those bad omens brought. But a nightmare you know is better than one you don’t because then you know how to handle it. And whatever Jake’s doing in town, I want nothing to do with it.”
And that, as far as Sadie was concerned, was that.
After they ate, Raquel wouldn’t let her go home, forcing her to walk down Main Street with her, arm in arm.
“Face your fears,” she said. “Just a little stroll, and then you can go home and bury your hands in the dirt like I know you’re going to.”
“I’m going to bury your head in the dirt,” Sadie said, her eyes roving everywhere, scanning faces as she hoped and feared a particular one she might see.
Meera Shaan waved as she swept the stoop outside of Shaan’s Salon. The gold threads on her peach-toned sari winked in the sunlight like little promises. Mrs. Shaan had been trimming and setting Gigi’s hair since they opened shop several years ago, after they moved from Aurelia.
“Tell your daadee that the tea she gave me for Akshay has been helping him sleep much better,” she said with a grateful smile. Her ten-year-old son, Sadie knew, suffered from severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, and his anxiety kept him up at night.
“I’ll tell her,” she promised.
They passed Delvaux Candles & Curiosities, the sign outside swaying slightly in the wind. If you tilted your head just right, you’d swear the three candles burned into the old wood flickered like they’d just been lit.
And then Sadie felt the pull as they neared Poppy Meadows Bookstore. She heard pages fluttering, calling to her. It was a siren song, one she usually couldn’t resist. The sign in the display window was painted with an open book that had bright orange California poppies sprouting out of the pages. The logo had always made her think of falling into a book the way Alice fell down the rabbit hole. Behind the glass, there were books in white enamel bird cages and hanging from the ceiling by invisible strings.
“No way,” Raquel said, dragging her by the arm as Sadie’s feet slowed down. “Time ceases to exist for you in bookstores, and I am not sitting by for three hours while you get hot over books you have no intention of buying.”
“But they need me,” Sadie argued. Her hand was on the door, although she didn’t remember reaching her arm out. “Even if I don’t buy them, they need to know they’re loved. That someone wants to look at them. Caress their delicate pages.”
“You are so weird,” Raquel said, sighing and following her inside.
Sadie inhaled.
“Your anthropomorphism knows no bounds,” Raquel added as Sadie waved to the books.
“Shh, you’re going to offend them.”
“Hello, ladies,” said Mr. Abassi from behind the counter. Sadie had grown up with his rich voice welcoming her into the shop, the brightness of his white crestless pagri dimmed only by his even more brilliant smile.
“I am glad you stopped in,” he said in his light accent. “Your Nanni would not take payment for the arthritis salve she gave me, so I set this aside for you.” He pulled a book from underneath the counter, and Sadie gasped as she read the cover: An Illustrated Guide to Rare Floriography and Its Uses. She’d been drooling over the intricate watercolor designs again just last week but couldn’t justify yet another addition to her ever-growing collection.