“Impressive,” Theo said. Bapou was cheerfully poking a customer with his cane, and Ana swooped in to stop him. Theo turned to me. “Well, those three facts alone make you more qualified than half the people who have worked here. Congratulations, Kalamata. You’re hired.”
Chapter Thirteen
#13. SANDALWOOD SHAVING SOAP
I don’t know if this was a gift or if he bought it for himself, but he used it the way my mom used her perfume, sparingly and only for special occasions. It was in a glossy wooden container, and I always knew when he and my mom had plans because it would appear on the bathroom counter and I’d wait for the deep, earthy smell to come wafting into the living room.
He always stopped shaving when he lost one of his jobs, and by the time I was eight, I’d lost count of how many times that happened. He wouldn’t say he lost them either. Instead he’d say, “Where should we go tomorrow, Olive?” and I’d know.
AFTER SUCH A RIGOROUS INTERVIEW process, I was happy to learn that Ana had no qualms about integrating me into the Lost Bookstore of Atlantis typhoon. Within minutes, I was straightening merchandise, helping the newly returned Geoffrey at the cash wrap, taking credit cards, and steering people toward a plethora of heaving bosoms in the jam-packed romance section. Every so often there’d be a lull, and my mind would start to wander back to Dax and the college dilemma, but within seconds a customer would ask me a question, or Theo would corner me to conduct a spontaneous employee performance review, and I was back to gliding across the surface, all thoughts of Dax submerged somewhere down below. Perfect.
By the time we shooed the last of the customers out the door, the sun had already condensed into a heavy orange globe, and we only had time to grab sweatshirts and a couple bottles of water before making our way up onto the roof.
After feeding us a rushed, standing-up dinner, Ana had taken Bapou home, and Geoffrey had mumbled something about ordering flowers for Mathilde, so it was down to Theo and me. All the hiking and book hauling and time on the water had left me so exhausted that every single muscle in my body hurt, and I sank into one of the wooden chairs. The caldera shone bold and glittery below us, and I sighed, taking in the view.
“Well, that was a boring day,” I said, propping my feet up on the ledge.
“You did a hell of a job in there, Kalamata.” Theo took the seat next to me and turned to face me, leaning his cheek against his chairback. He didn’t look at all tired from the bookstore rush. If anything, he looked energized. He and Ana didn’t seem to run out of steam. “I’d like to promote you to part-time unpaid employee.”
“I accept.”
“Good, because I made you something.” He reached into his pocket, then handed me a small plastic disk with a pin on the back. My very own employee name tag. NOT OLIVE.
“You think you’re so funny,” I said, laying it faceup in my palm. “How did you make this?”
“I know I’m so funny,” he corrected. “We have a name tag machine in the cave. I think we went through, like, thirty different interns last summer, so my mom went ahead and bought her own name tag maker.”
“Brilliant.” I carefully clipped it to my CREW shirt, right over my heart, and he gave me a thumbs-up. My skin was itchy from sea spray, and my hair hung in salty clumps. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone this long without looking in a mirror. Something about Oia made me not care.
“Do you think my dad will come back to the bookstore tonight?” I asked, glancing backward. The sunset crowds were starting to get amped up, lots of voices and laughing.
Theo shook his head. “Probably not. He’s been running pretty hard ever since he found out you were coming. Plus, he really throws himself into the filming. I think he needs a night off.”
“Fair,” I said.
We were quiet for a moment, Theo holding still for a miraculous few minutes as we watched the sun continue to dip. It had barely kissed the top of the ocean when Theo reached over and poked my arm lightly. “What happened with lover boy? Did he call?”
I kept my eyes on the sunset. “Uh-huh.”
“And?”
“Things are… betterish.”
“Betterish?” I felt his gaze swivel toward me. “Kalamata, I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s proper English.”
I sighed. “He was mad at me, but now he’s not. So that’s good.” My voice fell an inch shy of convincing, and I felt Theo focus in. Even when he didn’t have a camera, it felt like he had a zoom feature.
“Why was he mad at you?”
The sun had created a golden path along the water, and my eyes stung as they traced the rippling line. I wasn’t about to tell Theo about RISD, but I could tell him the rest. “I was supposed to go on this trip with him and his friends, but I had to cancel last-minute to come here.”
Pause.
I risked a glance over at him and was met with a look of intense credulity. “He’s mad because you canceled a trip to come spend time with your father who hasn’t seen you since you were eight?”
Harsh. Hearing the words out of Theo’s mouth did make it sound unfair.
I quickly folded my arms across my chest, turning back to the water. “It isn’t only that. I think I’m generally a disappointment to him.”
I’d never said those words before, had never even quite formed the idea, but I recognized them to be true anyway. It was just a heaviness I felt sometimes. Was the sunset shaking something loose in me?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Theo’s eyebrows go up. “Why would he be disappointed in you? You’re awesome. I mean, yes, you snore, and you have this weird thing about your name, but I’ve spent twenty-four hours with you, and I can honestly say I’ve only been sick of you for one of them.”
“Theo.” I groaned.
“Fine, two. But really, why would he be disappointed in you?”
“He probably isn’t. Forget it, okay?” A wave of anxiety passed through me, and I quickly shifted the spotlight. “What about you? Tell me more about what happened with you and your girlfriend.”
He cocked his head slightly. “Not much besides what I told you. I moved, and she’s still in London.”
I waited for more of an explanation. “So what happened? Long-distance relationship didn’t work out?”
He’d already answered these questions, but I was desperate for a distraction. Thinking about it made my stomach twist. Once Dax left for college in the fall, we’d be in that same situation. If we made it through the rest of the summer, that is.
He shook his head. “Like I said, long-distance doesn’t work for me.”
“Lots of people make it work, though.” There was a hint of desperation in my voice. Regardless of where I chose to go to school, Dax and I would definitely spend the first year apart.
Theo shook his head again. “When my parents were together, we moved every year or two. At first I tried to maintain my friendships, but after a while I realized I was always missing someone, and it made it hard to actually enjoy wherever I was at the moment. So now it’s an ironclad rule of mine—no long-distance friendships or dating. It’s not worth the agony of trying to make them last.”