Bohemian by Kathryn Nolan

Author:Kathryn Nolan [Nolan, Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-09-24T05:00:00+00:00

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CALVIN

I loved the kitchen in The Mad Ones. It was a long, narrow galley kitchen and while it was technically my grandfather’s, it quickly became another space for people to meet. When I was younger, I’d stumble upon customers having intense conversations about their favorite books in here, drinking cup after cup of coffee, hands shaking.

My grandfather would tell stories about impromptu readings that would happen over a pot of water, boiling for tea. Or writers, struck suddenly with inspiration, scribbling down notes on an old napkin.

The refrigerator was covered in scraps of poetry, articles about the bookstore, old photos of my grandparents. From time to time, I’d pull out a coffee mug and find a note from my grandfather on it—sometimes something ordinary (“Don’t forget Max’s food at the store”); sometimes a line from something he loved and had to document (“Did I ever walk the morning streets at twenty/my limbs streaming with purer joy?”).

But this morning, there was no scrap of wisdom from my grandfather, only the endless torrential rain. My morning beer with Gabe, while therapeutic, had brought on a bout of melancholy. I held a mug that said, “Keep Independent Bookstores Open” and dug through a box of his journals, settling into the overstuffed chair by the roaring fireplace. Max curled up at my feet, and I tried to soak in a moment’s peace—before the crew came storming in; before Lucia’s presence demanded my attention.

I flipped through a couple, stumbling upon the weeks when my grandparents were just beginning to date.

I do not believe in love at first sight, my grandfather had written, about his reaction to meeting my grandmother on a beach in Monterey. Although I’ve read about it in books, it is not my personal belief. There’s too much about a person to love them instantly—and really, isn’t that the best part? To learn, intimately, about every single beautiful thing about them. The way they laugh. What makes them sad. The way they peel an orange. Do they like whiskey?

I smiled, rubbing Max’s head, sipping my coffee.

When I met Maggie, it wasn’t love at first sight, although I thought she was gorgeous. Striking, really, and effervescent. And maybe this is shadowed by time, since we’re married now and I think of her as my soulmate—but although I do not believe in love at first sight, I do believe something inside of me recognized her…I don’t know, her soul. Or spirit…I’m not sure. Recognized it in a unique way. Like everyone on the beach that day was a dull, pale blue but Maggie was electric turquoise.

She made me so at ease with myself. Things I had buried or things I didn’t like—they didn’t matter around her. As I fell in love with her, she helped me love myself.

Thunder clapped outside. I thought I heard voices in the distance, which meant the moment of peace would soon be shattered. The voices got louder, and in an instant my grandfather’s small bookstore transformed into a film set.

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