Rather than continue to worry about my living situation, I decided not to think about it for my first week of class.
I wasn’t particularly successful.
On Tuesday, I had only my Color Theory class before working for the rest of the day at the bookstore. I enjoyed the class and the opportunity to work with colors that the Ordnung didn’t approve of, but I found myself sketching quilt concepts in the in-between moments.
“You seem worried today,” Zach said Tuesday morning. “What’s up?”
I put down the books I was scanning. “What do you mean, I look worried?”
“Your face is all scrunched up.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” William said from the opposite side of the store. “Nothing good can come of telling a girl her face looks like a crumpled paper bag.”
My shoulders sank. “I need…I need to figure out a new living situation.”
“You need a new place?” William walked over to join us.
“I don’t know. I think so.”
“Remind me—you’re living where?”
“With my brother’s fiancée. I think…well, I have a hunch…”
“Spit it out. I’m aging over here.” William crossed his arms.
“I think they’d actually get married if it weren’t for me.”
“Oh.” Zach winced.
“That’s ridiculous. They’re adults. You’re an adult. They should be able to figure things out for themselves.” William picked up a couple of the books and started scanning them for me.
“I don’t think they believe I could take care of myself.”
“Do you have a mental issue you haven’t told us about?” William asked in disbelief. “You’re just as capable as the rest of us.”
I allowed myself a smile. “Thanks. It’s just that I haven’t lived in Portland that long.” And I’d never lived by myself. Ever.
“You’ll be fine,” said William. “Seriously. Portland is not New York. It’s not even San Francisco, as much as it wants to be. Sure, living costs aren’t great. Have you checked Craigslist? Some of those listings are likely to be cheaper than ones offered by property management firms.”
“No, I didn’t know about Craig’s list,” I tilted my head. “He lists apartments in Portland?”
Zach and William chuckled, though William was less discreet about it. “Craig isn’t a person. I mean, he may well have been at one point, but Craigslist.org is a website with all sorts of listings—real estate, furniture, pets, you name it.”
“Sketchy personals…” Zach added.
“It’s worth a look at the apartment listings. You might find something.”
I could do this. I could be as independent as someone who grew up English.
Sonnet caught up to me in the hallway between classes. “Are you in or out?”
“Um…” I looked around. “Out of class?”
She patted my back. “You’re very literal, aren’t you.”
“I am.” Much to Jayne’s frequent amusement.
“Fine. You’re in. Meet us in the front at eleven?”
When eleven rolled around, I found everyone waiting inside near the doors. “Are you wearing good walking shoes?” Meg asked.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll like it a lot,” Sonnet said.
The topic of discussion as we walked was vintage clothes. Sonnet had found a tiny shop tucked away in the Sellwood neighborhood that she wanted all of us to visit.
“Sure, you’ve got to do alterations. Not even Madonna wears pointy bras anymore. Being handy with warm water and a scoop of Biz doesn’t hurt either. But there are some great clothes in there!”
Britta made a face. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’m sure the clothes are fine, but the Mad Men look isn’t my thing. I can’t pull off a sheath dress.”
“She has a point,” Meg said. “Sheath dresses are evil. They have to be perfectly tailored and belted before they’re remotely flattering. Even then…”
“Even then they only work out for certain body types,” Sonnet finished. “I’ll give you that. But there are plenty of other silhouettes. It’s worth trying, at least. You never know when you’ll find an undervalued Pucci.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said. “I’ll go with you sometime. My fashion history could stand to be strengthened.”
“Excellent!” Sonnet’s face broke out into a grin. “It’s a date then.”
“I hope they have the red velvet today,” Britta said as we continued our walk. “I’m a little addicted to them.”
The other girls agreed.
I figured we were headed to a dress or fabric shop of some kind, but Sonnet crossed Flanders and walked up some stairs and through a door marked Saint Cupcake.
“What is this?” I asked. “I’ve never been here before.” And considering our frequent outings with Gemma, that was truly a surprise.
“A bakery, one that specializes in cupcakes.”
“Oh.” It looked like a bakery, with its pink-scalloped awning. “I just thought when you were talking about red velvet…”
Britta grasped my hand. “Let’s find out,” she said.
I followed her to the front display cases. I’d never seen so many types of cupcakes. Some chocolate, some vanilla, and some that were red and marked Red Velvet.
“Oh,” I said. “It’s a fabric and a flavor.”
“And very good. I also like the toasted coconut cream. I’m usually a chocolate girl, but those are the two I pick up most often. It’s a good thing we walk, or I’d have gone up a jean size.”
Britta made her order. I waited while Sonnet and Meg ordered, and then I chose the Red Velvet, toasted coconut cream, carrot cake, and chocolate with vanilla buttercream.
“My roommate will want to try these. And our friend who works on the food section of the paper.”
“Uh-huh,” Sonnet said, sounding unconvinced. “Whatever. If you can share your cupcakes, you’re a better woman than me.”
Jayne shot an accusatory look at Gemma. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
I tapped the corner of my upper lip. “You’ve got frosting there.”
Jayne swabbed at the frosting remnant and licked it off her finger. “That is seriously good frosting. And I don’t like frosting.”
Gemma shrugged. “What can I say? When they opened, I didn’t get the assignment. Never had the time to try it out afterward.”
“Clearly, your time management skills could use a tune-up. Are you going to finish the rest of the carrot one?”
“Don’t you even think about it,” Gemma warned as she placed a protective hand between the remaining crumbs of carrot cupcake and Jayne. “Sara, all I can say is that you should be sainted for bringing these to our attention. Or knighted, if I had a tract of land to give you.”
“Do they give land with knighthoods these days?” Jayne asked, collecting frosting from the cupcake wrapping with her finger.
“Ask Patrick Stewart. He was knighted not very long ago. You’re the reporter. I’m just the food writer.”
I sat up straight. “What movies are we going to watch tomorrow?”
“Trying to throw us off?” Jayne lifted an eyebrow. “It won’t work.”
“I think we should watch Titanic,” Gemma suggested as she tucked a piece of her long, dark hair behind her ear.
“Ew, no!” Jayne’s face scrunched up as if the frosting was suddenly wasabi flavored. “I thought you liked Sara. Why would you subject her to such dippy dialogue?”
“See?” Gemma looked to me. “It worked. Shall we watch It Happened One Night instead?”
“Anything but Titanic.” Jayne’s face hadn’t returned to normal yet.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I was hoping to see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon soon.”
Jayne and Gemma looked at each other, looked at me, and looked at each other again.
“You’re joking, right?” Jayne asked.
“Yes,” I admitted with a small shrug.
“I’m so proud!” Jayne’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Your first pop-culture joke!”
“First of many, I’m sure,” Gemma said with a smile.
I gave a mock sigh. “I just wanted to see what happened to the comb.”
I had an hour between classes on Friday, so I carried my things to the library, found a nearly cozy chair, and pulled out my sketchbook. I thought about Jayne’s wedding dress. On the sketchpad, I played around with a few designs, making notes about my ideas of fabric, cut, and seaming.
“Whatcha working on?”
Startled, my pencil made an odd mark on the page before I could look up.
“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Arin. Arin Metz.”
He was about my age, with hair even shaggier than William’s and an easy smile. I put my pencil down and shook the hand he had offered. “Sara.”
“I think you’re in my Color Theory class.”
“Oh,” I said.
He sat next to me. “What program are you in?”
I held up my sketchbook. “Fashion.”
“You wanna do wedding dresses and stuff?”
“This is for a friend.”
“Right on.” He slipped the strap of his bag over his head and set the bag down in the process. “I’m in the graphic design program.”
“Oh,” I said again. Maybe this was why I had trouble making friends. I was no good at English conversation. “Do you like it?”
“I do. It’s my second year. It’s been good.”
“That’s…nice.”
Arin leaned forward. “You like the fashion program?”
“I do. I just started this term, but so far so good.” I checked my watch. “My next class starts shortly,” I said, gathering my things.
“Enjoy it,” he said, standing. “See you around.”
“Bye.”
I watched him walk away.
That was…odd.
After class I walked to the bookstore, locked my school things into my car, and entered the shop. Richard was in the store today, explaining the finer points of a copy of Herman Melville’s The Confidence-Man to a gentleman. A steady stream of customers milled through, so I made myself useful by taking over the register and shelving if someone didn’t require my immediate attention. After the uncertainties of school, I enjoyed the structure of work at the bookstore. Before the sky had turned completely dark, I heard the jingle of the bell over the door and turned to see a familiar face.
“Levi!” I left my spot at the register to throw my arms around my older brother. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d check in on where you worked. Haven’t seen the place yet.” He looked around. “It’s nice.”
“You’re just here to take a look around? Your office certainly isn’t that close.”
Levi shrugged. “And Jayne’s birthday is coming up next month. I’m collecting ideas. Thought she might like a first edition of something. Preferably something old.”
“She’d like that. William knows what we have in the shop.” I looked over my shoulder. “Zach? Could you handle the register for a little while?”
“Sure thing.” Zach answered, watching us with curious eyes.
We found William in the workroom. I knocked on the open door so he could hear us.
He looked up, his gaze shifting from me to Levi. “What’s up?”
“This is my brother, Levi. Levi, this is William,” I said, performing introductions the way I’d been told the English did. If it wasn’t right, neither Levi nor William said anything about it.
“You’re the brother, huh? Nice to meet you,” William said as he shook Levi’s hand. “What brings you to the store?”
Levi explained. William nodded. “What is she interested in? We’ve got a wide selection. If she enjoys Poe, we’re accepting offers for the Godey Lady’s Book compilation with his first published short story.”
I made a face. Levi shook his head. As much as I loved the Godey’s Lady’s Book volumes, I knew that Jayne wouldn’t be interested in the Poe story or the fashion. It was sad, because if she was and Levi bought it, I’d at least be near it.
“She mentioned she enjoyed the L.M. Montgomery books when she was young, Anne and…oh, what’s the other one…”
“Emily of New Moon? That’s pretty rare. You’re welcome to look over our collection and catalog—several of our titles aren’t shelved.” William reached up to scratch his head. “We do have a 1932 set of Jane Austen’s novels. Red cloth binding, fairly clean boards—they would make a nice gift.”
Levi brightened and looked to me. “Jane’s books for Jayne? I think she’d like that.” He turned to William. “How much?”
William named the price. I winced. Levi didn’t.
“May I see them?” Levi asked. William led him to the correct shelf.
My lips set in a firm line. The sooner I moved out, the sooner Levi could put that sort of money toward their future together rather than buy a set of books Jayne would seldom read.
Though I knew she really would enjoy them.
I thought of the wedding dress sketches on the notepad in my car. I would check Craigslist when I got home from work.