So You Summoned a Soulmate

Bells chime an all too familiar tune above the raw oak and blackened brass door to the bookstore as it opens for what feels like the hundredth time today but it is really probably only the fifteenth. My eye roll and fake customer service voice are innate as I chorus the ever-irritating ‘welcome’ that goes hand in hand with the tinkling of bells. Nona always said that no one should enter the bookstore without a warm welcome. I had added that no one should enter the bookstore without being impressed by its sheer size and volume just a couple of years after I took it over. Well, Nona, I chuckle inwardly as I scan the group of teens dressed in all black that wave wordlessly at me, I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I don’t have very much warmth left in me. Still, I welcome them in. Even after years of upgrades and a few renovations I still think of this place as Nona’s. It is still her memory that pushes me to do more with this business I was given. More than a bookstore, Smoldering Books had been a haven to me as a kid and I was determined to make it that kind of place for anyone that needed it. This haphazard group of would-be witches comes in frequently to peruse the covers and collections of semi-precious crystals. I decide wordlessly that they don’t need me, Leo can help them check out if they decide to get something today, and I turn myself back to the table I was merchandising for a new release. This is where I am needed, pushing these upcoming authors into big sales and bookings. This is what my small stand-alone store has become known for in this industry of big box stores. Small authors with new stories, and fresh takes on old troupes, we are defining the industry and we are rocketing each other to stardom. These displays, followed by readings and book signings really cultivate a market for the small independent authors. When Nona opened this place decades ago she never would have thought that it would be hosting author readings and selling small independently published novels off the shelves. Smirking at my own achievements the flame of pride warms my cold little heart at the thought that my grandmother didn’t make a huge mistake leaving me this place. ‘Nona would have loved all these changes.’ She would have been anxious about it, especially the construction bits, but she would be so happy to see people finding themselves at home here at Smoldering Books. Admonishing myself silently that I will never know any of that for certain and that she is gone now. My endless efforts to make the memory of Nona proud have become so second nature for my asshole brain. Shaking the self-sabotage off like a wet blanket I finish the purposely haphazard-looking stack right under the ‘New York Times Best Selling Author’ poster and grin widely. ‘Take that brain!’ Whipping out my phone I take a meticulously angled picture and write up a post for our social media. Check out @authorlizziestrong’s new release! Available at Smoldering Books. This is my obsession these days, not orders or invoices. Promoting smaller authors toward success with the platform we have created here at Smoldering Books. These walls once housed only tall stacks of aged books with yellowed pages and a clunky manilla-colored cash register. Still, it was my safe haven, my home away from home. Now you could not see the shell of its former self among the polished wooden shelves that display thousands of different authors, low tables with neatly stacked collections to pull interest, and comfy chairs for our patrons to sit and enjoy their drinks. The coffee bar was the one thing I had been hesitant about. There was so much to figure out as far as business licenses and equipment, but it had been a breakthrough moment. The smell of books and freshly brewed coffee is just sublime. Hustling from the newly finished display through several low shelves toward the counter I meticulously check the background and foreground of the picture to make sure I’m not accidentally posting anyone random or wrongfully on the bookstores' socials. I have done it before and my determination not to do it again is underlined and bold. Taking on social media for a business comes with so many rules and missteps. “Hey, girl boss!” Leo beams at me with his one hundred-watt charm as I pass behind the check-out counter. “You finally got on Tinder didn’t you?” His charm is absolutely panty-melting when directed at the customers, to me, he is but an annoying nephew who worries too much. I caution for the millionth time that he knows exactly how handsome he is and he uses it as a weapon. Anyone that sets their eyes on little Leo has no idea what they are in for. A world of hurt, assuredly. “Not no Leo, hell no.” Growling I tap the post button and just like that, our little display goes circling around the globe at the speed of light. Now I have to tackle the next in a long line of ‘to-do’s, I did not have time for the likes of dating apps. “I am not meant for dating and you are not meant to worry about it.” Who could possibly have the time and patience to date when I have this entire store to run? Well, casting away the shame that piled on my shoulders at the thought that the store would crumble without me, I have help but I am certainly steering the damn ship. Stashing away the leftover boxes and my setup supplies for the display I steadfastly ignore Leo’s huffs of opinionated sass as he goes about checking out and flirting with guests. He means well, I know he does, and he only teases me because he is an obnoxious gossip. He is also quite a bit like a little brother to me, being my best friend’s son and all. I’ve seen the kid grow up, lose teeth, and have heartbreaks. The surprisingly tall brat has been hounding me to go on dates for a few months now. It started with him pointing out that a guest had been asking me on a date, which they absolutely were not doing, and it hasn’t stopped since. Not for a single day. No one knows dedication quite like Leo and his mother Melody. They have been my rocks through losing Nona and taking over the store. They are the family that I found and surround myself with. The warm late summer afternoon turns to a deeply humid twilight and the hours slip by as they have done for years before it, quickly and busily. Checking guests out, organizing the stacks, and making sure someone checks off every item on every one of the closing lists because if we don’t tomorrow will be worse than today. The tasks never end until I stop looking for the next task to take on. “All right Aria, I’m out of here, you got this?” It’s not like I don’t know she’s completely prepared, I just always like to give them a moment to say ‘no’. Does that make sense? I mean, I know it does make sense. I wouldn’t want to leave someone here that didn’t feel like they could handle it. It’s just my anxiety at handing off my business to someone, anyone. “Got it on lock Merc’, seriously go home.” She tosses me the knit sweater off the back of the chair that sits behind the counter and smiles with a knowing grin. If anyone knows how hard it is for me to let go of the controls it is Aria. She has been with Smoldering Books for eight years and she worked her way up from stocking shelves to closing the place down. ‘She’s a rockstar’ I whisper to myself as I let the door close behind me with its little tinkling of bells. I say a blessing to the stars for her, for all my staff really. ‘May she be guided and watched, so mote it be.’ The sky is bright with the winding down of an all too sunny day above me, alive and chirping with the excitement of spring. Gods above, the chatter of birds in the small trees that line the street is a cacophony of s****l tension. In the same breath, I love it and loathe it. Even the birds have someone. Many someones in fact, and here I am walking home to my empty apartment. I don’t even have a cat. Don’t get me wrong, I immediately begin to correct myself. I am not lonely. Not at all. Honestly, I don’t think I have the time for a relationship. With everything going on at Smoldering Books and trying to figure out how to get my next few independent authors' campaigns going, I am good and well truly occupied. All caps, underlined. Busy. The small meandering walk around the block from the store allows me to gain some silence between my ears. A blessing, really. I used to live in the loft above the store but when we were in desperate need of expansion I made the decision to demolish the apartment that had been my loft for many years and turn it into a second story. Just had to finally eat the cost of buying my own place downtown instead of living upstairs like the phantom of the bookstore. “Honey, I’m home.” My sarcastic tone bounces off the walls back at me as the soft sounds of me tossing my bag and keys on my coffee table break up the silence. Maybe I do need to get a cat? Just somebody to be waiting to hang out with me at the end of the day. Is that what a boyfriend would do? Probably not. A boyfriend would probably want me to meet his parents and listen to his boring keg stand stories. Leave clothes tossed around the apartment and make the whole place smell like sweat. Rolling my eyes I decide yet again that I don’t need that in my life. Pass. Popping the cork on a bottle of wine I press play on my kitchen music playlist and begin my nightly routines. Dinner, dishes, a little tv, and light a candle on the altar. It is the same routine, one I had carved out of pure necessity, that I have been doing with little to no changes for years. Sometimes I go out with friends. Every once in a while I’ll go to a movie. Filling up my cup I glance down at my phone. I should do more research into new authors, or the one I have a meeting with tomorrow. I could doom-scroll social media for a few hours while I sip this glass of wine, but I could already tell that was not where I was headed. Maybe I’ll just see what these dating apps are about. Just look at them. I mean how could I keep fighting Leo about them if I didn’t even have any idea what they were about? Okay, I prompt myself, that was definitely a straw man argument but here goes nothing. Plopping down at the table I finish off the first glass and pour another as I pull up the app store to start reading the reviews. Scrolling for mere seconds I am mortified. They are horrid. What the hell? Who willingly signs up to experience these things? AmandaBanana94- ⭐ "Don't donwload this app, it's all creeps and critters on here." I wonder what the story is there? Could it have been a few bad dates? Maybe even one stand-up too many. This is pretty much what I figured online dating was going to look like. Slurping down more wine I try to fortify myself my mind keeps recalling Leo saying I need to sign myself up for these but what exactly does he think the point of that is? As far as I can tell self-flagellation can be done in private, I need not invite others to join me via false advertising. ChadBroChill-⭐⭐ "Mostly Bots on here. Don't pay for premium. Scam." Bots? I don’t even know what that means really, are those robots pretending to be people? To what end? How was this even a remotely helpful review? Hand clutching my glass I sip as my eyes roll over review after review. Taking in as much as I can to refuel my tank for the next time Leo suggests this stupid s**t to me. Pr1nce55-⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Best thing I've EVER done. Take a chance and go on the date!" Well at least some of them are happy. See Mercy, you don’t need these problems in your life. Scrolling to secure my decision I begin to stare a little too long at the happy couple pictures in between the absolute s**t show of terrible tales. They look so fulfilled. Beaming at each other the couples seem so engaged. I am so happy for them, really I am. I really really am happy they found someone in this huge world full of millions of people. They found their one-in-a-million chance. Their soulmate. It hits me like a brick. This world is full of billions of people actually and how am I supposed to find the person I’m meant to be with? That is the scam! Getting me to fill my head with thoughts of romance and love at first sight to sell apps. Flinging my phone down on the table I grab the wine and up turn the bottle, finishing it off. Tossing the bottle haphazardly toward the recycling tub, to hell with rinsing it out, I could do that tomorrow. For now, I began piecing together a great idea. Pulling out a second bottle of wine from the fridge I giggle to myself and begin to organize my thoughts into a list of materials. Candle, ribbon, and a few dry ingredients. Oh yes, my giggles became a bit louder as I slid over to my shelf full of small bottles encapsulating a wide variety of contents. My fingers went to work plucking out dried rose petals, egg shells, and orange peels. ‘Are we really doing this?’ My voice echoes around me as my music plays softly. ‘Oh, I think we are, where did I put that moon water?’