Us ((1))

Heads turned as she entered the AlbumStop on Greene Street that Thursday morning. The woman was tall and leanly muscular, with wild black hair pulled into a bun and matching sunglasses. She looked like a celebrity trying to look like any normal person. And that’s exactly what she was. 1

She browsed for a minute or two, and in that time she received a long, hard look from every customer. Not everyone knew who she was, but everyone knew she must be somebody by the way everyone else was staring. She was in the CD section, picking up a couple but putting each back down. Finally she approached the front counter, where a sleepy-eyed teen brushed his hair aside and looked up. He jumped. 2

“Big crowd for a weekday.” She said conversationally.3

“It’s the Christmas rush. You’re Marti Goudine.”4

“Yes, I know, thank you.” She replied in a delicate voice, a voice that might sound British to someone unfamiliar with British accents. “Can you help me with something?”5

“Of course!” He fiddled with the mouse of the database computer in front of him. “What’re you looking for?”6

“I’m looking for a man who works here. I think. John Carey?”7

“John?” he repeated in amazement.8

“Yeah?” Came a voice from the back room.9

Marti Goudine’s face lit up. “He’s here?”10

“Um, yeah, he does.” The cashier looked at her with a mix of confusion and horror. After a full thirty seconds, he called, “A customer wants you!” Then he retreated to the back room himself, shaking his head.11

John Carey stepped out, and the two or three people who hadn’t been watching the exchange glanced up. Everyone had seen John before—it wasn’t that large of a town—but he was still something to look at. Most of him was completely normal; he was a little under average height, with curly black hair, and a distinguished freckled face that was usually smiling. He was actually fairly handsome. But no one looked at this. It was the left side of his head, and his left arm, that attracted the eyes of every AlbumStop customer. And that was why he normally stayed in the back.12

He looked at her for a long moment while walking to the front counter. His eyes darted around the large room, meeting each face in turn. Then he said, “Welcome to AlbumStop. What can I do for 13

you today?”14

She kept a straight face. “I need some piano music. Do you know which Ben Folds album ‘Army’ is on?”15

Without glancing at the screen, he replied, “He was still in the Five then; that’s off of Naked Baby Photos, released 1998.” His words were only slightly slurred, but that was to be expected.16

She took a step toward the counter and leaned against it. “Impressive. So where is it?”17

“Oh, we don’t have it.” He rested his hands on the counter close to hers. “You see, the store used to be run by Tom Chang Sr., who had excellent taste in music. His son Tommy is running the place now.”18

Suddenly, Marti couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. Her jaw dropped. “Tommy owns this place? Is he still the huge asshole I remember?”19

John’s eyes widened, and he looked around for any sign that the manager was approaching. Then, very slightly, he nodded. This sent the woman into spasms of silent laughter. She leaned over the counter to give him a long, tight hug. He returned it, aware that there were still a few people watching, and keeping his face completely blank. He feared she would hear his heart pounding. But her voice was still lighthearted as she murmured, “Hi, Johnny.”20

“Hi Marta.” He pulled back first. “Or is it Marti? It’s been forever, what’re you in town for?”21

“I’m here because…it’s home! I don’t know, Johnny, I just needed to get back here for a while, take a break from what I was doing and unwind. You know? And please call me Marta. Real people call me Marta, movie posters call me Marti.”22

He laughed at this gush of words, unsure what to say or when. People in small towns didn’t talk like this. Marta hadn’t talked like this when she left. But, he said to himself, things change. He ignored the sudden drop in his heart. “So, how long are you going to be here?”23

She shrugged. “I’ve got a room at the Holiday for now, but I might look at getting a permanent address. No, seriously. I’m back.”24

“That’s—” he tried to keep the shock off his face, appear simply happy. “That’s great, Marta, really. We should get together soon.” It was a lame line, and he knew it. But he wanted to give her an out, so that she didn’t actually have to make plans with him.25

“Sure, are you doing anything tomorrow night?”26

An icy chill shot through him. Was she blind? Could she not see anything wrong with him? Did she actually think he would have plans on a Friday night?...and why would she want to spend hers with him? His mind blanked, and as he looked at her open, smiling face, all he could remember was the last time he had seen her. In person, that is, not on a movie screen. Had it been fifteen years? Not quite. It was at that boy’s party, just before she moved away from the house next door to John. It was not a memory he cherished. “No. That sounds good.”27

She nodded. “Awesome. Here’s my number—” she scribbled it on a slip of paper on the counter “—let me know when you’re off.” She turned and began to leave, then seemed to remember something. “Oh, and John?”28

His heart made one, huge, desperate thump. “Yeah?”29

“Tell Tommy to find some good music, okay?”30