Wish You Were Her(70)

“Fine. I’m letting you go.”

“Firing me, George. You’re firing me.”

“Yes.”

“But you want me to see out the rest of the festival.”

“I would appreciate it. Allegra is already a big loss to the team.”

There was real heaviness and regret in George’s words, enough for Jonah to question him. “That’s what this is actually about, right?”

George cleared his throat. “No. This is a necessary career decision, for both our sakes. And you were physically fighting in the staff tent. That will be the official reason, as it’s completely unacceptable.”

“So, Simon’s going, too?”

“No, Simon will remain.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“I won’t be spoken to like that, Jonah. I really will not be.”

“George, I’m sorry Allegra and I got seen like that. No one regrets it more than me. The photographer, that is, not … not what he was photographing—I don’t regret that part at all. I’m sorry. I know it’s the reason she’s gone back to the city. But you can’t punish me because I l—”

“It’s not about Allegra. I can’t have you starting fights.”

“How do you know I started it?”

George fixed him with a stern look. “Jonah.”

“I’d say Simon started it by handing the press all of our names! Didn’t you specifically order us not to do that, when Roxanne and Allegra first came here?”

He knew that he had spoiled his shot by saying Roxanne’s name. There was always an unspoken understanding about that, she was not to be mentioned to George. Jonah’s mother had warned him about it, before his first shift at the shop.

“She left him long ago,” she had told him, whispering as if the age-old gossip was dangerous. “He’s never got over her.”

“Don’t act like this is a decision you’ve been forced into,” Jonah added, deciding to go down in an inferno rather than a blown-out candle. You’ve been weird and cold with me all summer. Before you even knew Allegra was coming here.”

“Correct,” George acknowledged. “This has been ongoing. And today I made up my mind.”

“Why has it been ongoing? You’ve been treating me like a bad draft for months! What’s the reason?”

He thought, for a moment, George might tell him. Then his now ex-employer merely shook his head and said, “I’ve told you the reason for your termination. Will you serve your notice?”

Jonah stared at the older man, desperately trying to see a little of Allegra in him. If they had shared the same eyes or smile, he might have felt comforted for the briefest moment, as if he had her back.

But there was nothing of Allegra in her father.

Jonah thought about the years he had spent in the shop. The displays he had made, the countless emails and phone calls he had fielded, organizing the festival and chasing publishers on behalf of George. He thought about every moment of sweat he had given to the poorly paid job, just to get books to the right people and to support authors who needed his help.

All of it washed away because of a mystery grudge and one bad decision.

“Yeah, I’m done,” Jonah said wearily. “No notice. I’ll leave right now.”

He fished his keys and computer card out of his jeans and dropped them onto George’s already chaotic work desk. He could tell by the astounded look on George’s face that he had not expected this. Despite years of dedication and hard work, Jonah had to wonder what made the man think he would meekly stay and work where he was clearly not wanted.

“Jonah, look, I—”

Jonah gave him a half-hearted salute. “Thanks for a few years of work and some serious retail-back-problems, I guess.”

“Jonah, let’s discuss things a little more calmly, maybe when—”

“Nah. Bye.”

Jonah felt an undeniable, yet completely surprising, sense of relief as he left the office, and then Brooks Books. He gave Nick, the other part-time bookseller who had arrived, a warm nod but did not fill him in. He walked with an easiness and a sense of purpose.

Grace Lancaster was emerging from the Arthouse as he made his way home. She sprinted up Main Street to reach him.

“Jonah, what happened? Someone said you knocked Simon out!”

“Not quite,” Jonah said. “Wish that were true.”

“So, what—”

“Let’s go to the arcade, I’ll tell you everything.”



* * *



Allegra was on her street, outside her apartment building. She waited until Cliff, the driver, gave the nod to signal that the street was clear. She slipped out of the car with Natalie and smiled at Mohammad, the building’s doorman, as he held the door open for her. The marble lobby was just as sparkling and as clean as it had been in May, when she left.

She and Natalie entered the lift and rode up in silence. There was a small vestibule between the elevator and her front door. She took out her keys but it flew open to reveal her mother.

Allegra burst into tears.

Her mother embraced her and she could feel Natalie rubbing her back. The three women stood in the small vestibule, with its finely embossed wallpaper and prettily tiled flooring, and Allegra just cried. She let out every thought and feeling that had been constrained beneath the mask. She let the neurotypical gaze fade into unimportance.