We went to Half-Price Books on our way to their house. I told Chelsea I'd quickly pop-in and see if they had it. If they didn't, I'd already thought of some back-ups. I had to reassure her of my expediency though because she would be in the car by herself with both kids. I could not dilly dally as I normally would do inside a bookstore. And this was the first time I'd been inside any bookstore since the pandemic began. Naturally, Chelsea was skeptical of my promise, but I had faith in my ability to get the job done quickly.
When I walked in, I scanned all the end-cap areas where new releases or popular books were often stocked: nothing. I darted to the New Releases section: nothing. I scanned the store for other end-caps or general display areas, even the area behind the register: nothing. Time to consider other options. I made eye-contact with a worker. She tried to avert my gaze at first, sensing I was on a fruitless quest perhaps, reading my impatient body language, or smelling my desperation.
"Hi. I'm looking for Matthew McConaughey's book, Greenlights. Can you check your inventory on the computer?"
"Sure," she reluctantly replied. I followed her to the computer, my hope evaporating with every step. Having been a book-seller myself in a previous life, I knew that the odds of success at this point were extremely low. In fact, this gesture of verification was nothing more than glorified acceptance —having someone else tell you out-loud what you already knew inside. Still, I held onto that tiny sinew of chance of random, dumb luck.
"It looks like..." she began, filling my heart with fresh hope, "...we are all out, but the store across town has one left. I could have it delivered here if you'd like? It would take about five days, but you wouldn't have to worry about driving all that way."
My heart deflated like a whoopee cushion.
"No thanks. I need a gift today, so I will think of something else."
My shoulders lowered in defeat, I dragged myself back into the rows of books, occasionally glancing at the end-caps a third and fourth time, just to reassure myself that I had exhausted all possibility. I recalled my promise to Chelsea, and moved to my emergency selections. I found them both in under three minutes.
But I lingered still.
Like I said, this was the first time I'd been in a bookstore for almost an entire year, and my being needed the nourishment. One of my favorite aisles to peruse is the Old and Misc section. It has a glass case with some curious items locked away (such as autographed copies or rare editions), but then the rest of the section is just old garage-sale-type books that have seen better days. Often, they are close to 100 years old. Before the pandemic, I could spend 30 minutes in this one 15 foot aisle easily. There were hidden treasures that, either because of their looks or their odd subject matter, were shoved here in this "outcast," "rebel," or "obsolete" area. It felt good just standing there, but I knew I had to go. I had to move on. Time was ticking, not waiting.
As I made the decision to head to the counter and check-out, I saw it.
It was right in front of me — eye-level and dead-center — a single copy of Greenlights.
I wondered briefly how it had escaped the inventory count of the almighty computer system, how it had traveled to this section where it clearly didn't belong, but who cares? I had it in my hands. I flipped through the pages just to be sure it wasn't something else called Greenlights by Matthew McConoughy, that it was in fact the holy grail that launched my quest. Of course it was.
Having just finished the book, the symbolism of this event was not lost on me. It all worked out; just keep livin.
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