The Keeper of Lost Things Read online

  “You heard the man,” I added for good measure.

  They were offended, which made me happier. Mostly I was just angry. These people were the kind to throw everything away. What they didn’t lose, anyway. I’d put good money on them being responsible for a lot more trash than what came out of their mouth.

  “Come on, Henry. We don’t need to be subjected to this kind of treatment.” She grabbed her man’s hand and they stomped out of the shop. Every footstep caused a little cloud of dust. I hoped their patent leather shoes were covered in dirt by the time they reached their vehicle.

  Mr. Adison chucked me on the arm. “Thanks for standing up for this place, kid.”

  “I hate people like that.”

  “If it wasn’t for people like that I wouldn’t have all this great stuff in my shop. Everyone’s got their place, Em. We’re all cogs in the same giant wheel.”

  He went back to fussing over his shelves while my eyes remained trained on the couple. What were they even doing at the city dump in the first place? Their shiny black Mercedes must have been completely lost amongst the trash trucks and the rundown cars of the working class.

  I took off shortly afterwards. The couple were still churning themselves over in my head and Mr. Adison was busy so I left him to it. Walking back toward home, I stopped when I realized I was almost at Frankie’s family business.

  My feet wouldn’t keep moving once they realized an opportunity to sit down and rest was at stake. I could do little more than head into the hardware store and feel the rush of air conditioning inside.

  But it was a mistake.

  I shouldn’t have come to Frankie’s store, a place I had no business visiting. He was going to think I was a stalker if I kept turning up places where I knew he would be.

  “Em?”

  Apparently I wasn’t fast enough in my escape. I slowly turned around on my heels to face the owner of the voice. “Hey, Frankie. That’s right, you work here. I thought it seemed familiar.”

  He grinned like he knew I was lying. “Yeah, what a coincidence. Can I help with you something? You know, whatever you came here for in the first place?”

  The only single thing in my vision was a plastic thing. I grabbed it. “Here it is! I’ve been looking everywhere for this. You have no idea how many stores I’ve searched through for this.”

  “What is it?” Frankie asked.

  Of course he had to ask the one question I didn’t have an answer for. The yellow plastic thing could have been anything. Nothing on the packaging gave its use away. “Isn’t it obvious?” Where was my charade going to end?

  An older man decided to step in at that point. It didn’t take a degree in sleuthing to work out he was Mr. Bolero, Frankie’s father. He was an older, more wrinkled version of his son. If they were the same age I was certain they would look like twins.

  “Are you going to introduce us?” Mr. Bolero said. His hands worked their way into the pocket of his overalls. I would have fallen at his feet for saving me from my own lies.

  “Dad, this is Em. Em, this my dad.”

  Simple, but effective.

  Mr. Bolero had to take his right hand out of his pocket to shake mine. He had a firm grip, reassuring but not painful. I gave him about nine out of ten for his handshaking ability.

  Uncle Marvin was a three. He’d shaken my hand once, when my father showed up at his door and introduced us for the first time. It was only a few hours later that he was guardian.

  “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I replied, remembering to be polite in all the ways Mrs. Justice had taught me.

  “And the same to you. Frankie has told me all about you. You are welcome in our store at any time.” He flashed me a smile that looked so much like Frankie’s that there would never be a need for a paternity test for the two of them.

  Frankie started to take off the apron he was wearing. “I’m going to take a break, Dad. If that’s okay?”

  “Course it is.”

  Mr. Bolero stepped away while I placed the yellow plastic thing on its shelf. “I should go.”

  “You could, if you want to,” Frankie said. He was up to something, the little glint in his eye betrayed him. “Or, you could come with me and visit Mr. Withheld.”

  “You’re ready to go now?”

  “Why not now?”

  Why indeed? He was practically out the door before I finally gave him my answer. We walked some of the way to the address on my father’s biggest work contract. The bus filled in the gaps when it could.

  Walking with Frankie made me feel invincible. I didn’t want it to have the effect on me that it did. But to know he was there, doing this whole thing purely to help me, it made my insides go warm and fuzzy.

  I would never tell him that.

  I didn’t even want myself to know it.

  The last bus we took was the longest on our journey. It involved a lot of stops which meant a lot of people moving on and off the bus. My eyes remained constantly scanning for lost things. I hoped today would be the day when nothing was misplaced.

  My luck had turned.

  And not in a good way.

  An elderly lady stepped off the bus without her umbrella. She was long gone before anyone realized her mistake. I stared at the lost thing, my heart pumping and screaming at me to go save it.

  But Frankie was with me. I didn’t want him to see my compulsion in action any more. I wanted to be normal for him, able to walk away from a lost item and not have to rescue it from a life of being lost.

  A bead of sweat started to cover my brow with the sheer frustration of the situation. I couldn’t let it stay lost, I had to save it. Every second that passed made my gut ache with need. My eyes couldn’t be torn from it, always finding their way back no matter how many times I tried to look away.

  I could hear it crying for me.

  The umbrella needed me.

  But I couldn’t. Frankie had seen me take things too many times already. He would never understand why I had to cross over to the other side of the bus and take the umbrella from the floor.

  I was going to pass out soon, my heart couldn’t take the strain of my indecision.

  “You should go grab that,” Frankie said, ripping through all my spiraling thoughts with only five words.

  “Take someone’s umbrella? Why would I want to do that?” I tried to sound flippant, but I hit insane instead. I hit it right on the head.

  “Yeah, I think you should. It’s got to be lonely over there by itself.”

  I thought he was joking. For a split second I was certain he was making fun of me in the worst way and at the worst time. I studied his eyes, flicking between him and the umbrella.

  He was being serious.

  It was all I needed. I could analyze it later, kick myself for being so compulsive in the privacy of my own bedroom. Right now, I needed to save that umbrella.

  As quick as a flash I retrieved it, slipping it into my backpack and closing the zipper. Nobody else riding the bus noticed and Frankie didn’t say another word about it.

  We sat in silence together while my heart slowed its pace. The sides of the bus pressed outwards again, no longer closing in on me.

  All was right once more.

  As we started growing closer to our destination, the neighborhood changed. It went from the usual urban sprawl to leafy, tree-lined streets and large houses that seemed far too wasteful for only one family. There was more money in the area than in a bank. More money than I’d probably seen in my lifetime.

  Or would ever see.

  We passed the houses and then entered a commercial zone. Cafes and chic takeout places lined the streets. To mix things up a bit, there was the occasional boutique full of ironic hipster clothes. Even though they were specifically made to look old and worn, they were twice the price of regular clothes.

  The bus stopped right in the heart of it. Frankie followed me off, the umbrella coming with us. It burned hot in my backpack, a telltale heart of my life purpose.

&
nbsp; Frankie had a map of the district on his phone, he pointed down a street. “We go down here and then around a corner. The business should be the first one on the right.”

  It was difficult arguing with the blue dot.

  Our feet hit the pavement. It was pristinely clear, tantalizing any graffiti artist to get to work. They probably cleaned it every morning just to make sure no dirt could stick around for too long.

  “Fancy place, huh?” Frankie said, verbalizing everything I was thinking.

  I shrugged. We’d never had any spare money in our family. The life of the rich and famous always seemed to be wasteful to me. I wasn’t ashamed of not having all the newest gadgets. But, for the first time in my life, I worried about what someone would think of my home situation.

  Because, really, it was a situation.

  Neither Uncle Marvin nor I had planned or wanted to live together. It just happened, something we fell into and couldn’t get out of.

  Like a big hole.

  I had been so lost inside my own head I wasn’t paying attention to our travels. We were standing in front of the building before I realized it.

  It was big.

  Little red bricks formed the building that could have been plucked from a children’s story book. A terracotta tiled ceiling peaked in the middle, a perfect triangle in proportions. The windows were all surrounded by white shutters, looking more like eyes than glass holes in the walls.

  A sign proudly declaring the place ‘ICM Partners’ in italicized font stood on the front lawn. The grass seemed too green to be real but it was–I checked.

  The building also had a sign on the front door that said ‘Closed’. “They’re not open,” I said, clearly stating the obvious. “I guess we should have checked their office trading hours.”

  “And live without the unexpected?” Frankie waved his hand. “Nah. Where would we be without adventures and long bus rides?” His smile made me feel better.

  His smile always made me feel better.

  I still didn’t want it to.

  To avoid the fluttering of tiny wings in my stomach, I went to the front door of the building and peered in. Even with my hands blocking out all the light from outside, I still couldn’t see much inside. A reception area, another sign, and some polished wooden floorboards.

  I returned to Frankie. “There’s nobody inside that I can see. It’s all in darkness.”

  “We should get ice cream,” he said.

  “Why ice cream?”

  “It just seems appropriate.”

  It kinda did. “I’m not sure what flavors they’ll have in this neighborhood.”

  “Only one way to find out.” He was factually incorrect because there were plenty of ways to do research on the ice cream flavors in this neighborhood.

  Still, I followed him. We walked the fancy streets in search of the elusive frozen dessert. There were plenty of ice tea cafes, also one with only raw and vegan foods. Hipsters hadn’t come out yet to fill the places, leaving them largely empty.

  We had to walk six blocks before finding a place that sold ice cream. The flavors were disappointingly normal. I chose chocolate because that was my favorite. Frankie chose chunky monkey. The parlor didn’t have any seats, it was takeout only so we took our food down to the edge of the lake only one more block away.

  The great lake of Lakeside was quite impressive from this viewpoint. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble in landscaping the edges with grass as thick as carpet and paved paths that meandered through a wobbly course.

  We sat on the edge of the lake on a manmade wall, our feet dangling over the edge. The water only reached halfway up, we were at no risk of getting wet.

  “Have you had any more thoughts about what might have happened to your dad?” Frankie asked as he took a chunk out of his chunky monkey.

  “I think about it all the time but I didn’t know him well enough to know what might have happened to him,” I admitted. It was difficult saying the words out loud. Especially after seeing how close Frankie was with his father.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “When I was six.”

  “That’s a long time ago.”

  “Sure is.” Even the thought was depressing. I often wondered how my life would have been different if he had decided to stay that day. Or take me with him. I wasn’t sure if it would have been better or worse. It was better to talk about his life, rather than dwelling on my own. “How come your family moves around so much?”

  He shrugged, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal but I knew him well enough now to see through his nonchalance. “My parents get bored by staying in one place too long. They always find a reason to move somewhere else because it will be better there.”

  “That must be hard.”

  “You get used to it.”

  I didn’t want to voice the fear I had that they would move again.

  Away from Lakeside.

  “You’ve got a little,” Frankie started, ending his sentence with a gesture that told me I had something on my face. I wiped at my lips with a paper napkin. “It’s still there. Here, I’ll get it.”

  Frankie leaned toward me and wiped at my cheek with his thumb. I felt his skin caress mine before he took it away again and wiped it on his pants.

  But not before our eyes had locked together.

  I blushed, all the blood in my body rushing toward my rosy cheeks. “Thank you.”

  He looked intently at his ice cream, as if he only just noticed that it was still in his hands. I did the same to mine, trying not to look anywhere else and focusing all my attention on the chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone.

  Because if I didn’t stop thinking about Frankie, I was going to do something stupid and regret it for a long time afterwards.

  I wanted to kiss him.

  All I could think about was whether his lips were as soft as his thumb and how it would feel to have them pressed against mine. Would it be like in the movies and my world would rock off its hinges for those seconds?

  Would he even want to kiss me too?

  The taunting questions rolled around in my head, turning over and over on themselves until there was nothing but single letters and exclamation marks swirling inside my mind. To straighten them out and think clearly again would be something that would have to wait until later.

  If I continued on my current track I would completely lose my mind all together. I would be as outwardly insane as I felt inwardly. My secret wouldn’t remain a secret for very long.

  “What are you going to do with the umbrella?”

  Or perhaps the secret was already out.

  Chapter 14

  “What umbrella?” I asked, faking my misunderstanding. Of course I knew exactly what he was referring to. Rescuing umbrellas wasn’t something that happened every day. Not lately, anyway.

  “The one from the bus.” Frankie, playing along with my little charade. I never expected it to be very convincing. I was a skilled liar but the boy seemed to be able to see through my fronts.

  My lips clamped together while I concocted an answer. A lie should have come easily, it should have rolled off my tongue and sounded so much like the truth that the listener would believe me.

  My lies all seemed to run off without me all at once.

  I found I wanted to tell the truth.

  That didn’t normally happen.

  “I’m going to take it home,” I started. “I have a collection of lost things in my bedroom, and now the attic, too. I will place it on my new shelves that you helped put up and it will never know the loneliness of being a lost thing ever again.”

  The truth was out there.

  Floating around in the air and being forced into eardrums.

  I had never been so scared about telling the truth before. I expected Frankie to call me names, to get up and leave me before telling everyone he knew what a freak I was. I could be prepared for that, console myself with the knowledge that I didn’t need friends. Not ev
en if they did make my belly flutter and my lips smile.

  What actually happened next was not something I could be prepared for.

  “Cool.”

  “Cool?” I parroted.

  Frankie nodded and crunched on his ice cream cone. It was starting to melt a bit, dripping down onto his fingers in the heat of the sun.

  When he next spoke, it was with a mouthful of waffle cone. “I get it. That’s what I meant by ‘cool’. You see things that other people have lost and you feel sorry for them. So you take them home.”

  “You don’t think it’s weird?”

  “Not at all.”

  I pinched the flesh between my thumb and fingers, just to make sure I was actually awake and not lost in a daydream. It hurt, but wouldn’t it also have hurt if I was in a daydream? What part of the pain is omitted from dreams? If I fell down in my slumber-induced vision, would it not hurt?

  I didn’t have time to ponder it in full.

  Frankie didn’t appear to be joking, nor was it apparent that he was lying. He could have been as adept at lying as I was but it didn’t seem that way. Frankie was a good boy, one that was wholeheartedly trusted by his parents and teachers. He’d probably never lied in his life.

  Except for me.

  I took my gaze away from his deep blue oceans of eyes and looked over the lake instead. Six words kept repeating in my head, over and over again until I could trace the letters with my fingers and write them in the stars.

  Frankie didn’t think I was weird.

  Frankie didn’t think I was weird.

  Frankie didn’t think I was weird.

  If they were lies then they were the sweetest lies I had ever heard. They made everything inside me turn to mush, forced my heart to beat unbearably fast, and all the blood to pool in my cheeks deeper than ever before.

  Frankie didn’t think I was weird.

  There was another human being in this world that understood what I did. He got it. There were no harsh judgements, no laughter, no finger pointing, no straight jacket.

  He got it.

  He didn’t think I was weird.

  Somehow, even though it would probably have seemed so insignificant to another person, I felt like my life might never be the same again.