Rosalina
I HAVE TRAVELED AROUND the world. I’ve walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the
top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That’s not all. I’ve led an
army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in
love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I’ve lived a thousand lives.
Too bad the only real one fucking sucks.
I sigh and close the book I’ve been reading. It’s a good one, about a ghost hunter who accidentally
falls in love with the spirit she’s supposed to track down. Some people call these guilty pleasure
reads, but why should I feel guilt for wanting to escape to somewhere else, even for a little while?
The bookstore is dead quiet today, so I’ve been able to sneak in a few pages... or a hundred. It’s
typical for autumn. Once tourist season ends, Orca Cove goes into hibernation mode. Only the
regulars come around, and they don’t need—or want—much from me.
I push a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, not bothering to trap it back into the messy rat’s
nest I’ve got piled on my head. Just peering out the big windows at the front of the shop has me
reaching for my sweater. Rain during fall in the Pacific Northwest is as typical as a bear shitting in
the woods, but that doesn’t stop the locals from complaining. Careful not to knock over the display of
books I’ve arranged, I press my palm against the moist glass. I like the rain. It makes me feel less
guilty for huddling inside, away from everything and everyone else. I’m sure if I said that to someone,
they’d think it’s weird. But hey, like rain in Orca Cove or bears shitting in the woods, that’s to be
expected.
Rosalina
the world. I’ve walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the
top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That’s not all. I’ve led an
army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in
I sigh and close the book I’ve been reading. It’s a good one, about a ghost hunter who accidentally
falls in love with the spirit she’s supposed to track down. Some people call these guilty pleasure
The bookstore is dead quiet today, so I’ve been able to sneak in a few pages... or a hundred. It’s
typical for autumn. Once tourist season ends, Orca Cove goes into hibernation mode. Only the
I push a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, not bothering to trap it back into the messy rat’s
nest I’ve got piled on my head. Just peering out the big windows at the front of the shop has me
reaching for my sweater. Rain during fall in the Pacific Northwest is as typical as a bear shitting in
the woods, but that doesn’t stop the locals from complaining. Careful not to knock over the display of
books I’ve arranged, I press my palm against the moist glass. I like the rain. It makes me feel less
guilty for huddling inside, away from everything and everyone else. I’m sure if I said that to someone,
they’d think it’s weird. But hey, like rain in Orca Cove or bears shitting in the woods, that’s to be
The door jingles open and Josie and Tiffany walk in, nattering to one another. They’re as typical of
locals as you can get: middle-aged, wine-loving, clique-y. Wives of two of the fishing guides.
“Hello,” I say, pretending to fix the display instead of staring out at the rain like a weirdo. “How
are you two ladies today?”
Josie stops and puts her hands on her hips. She’s gotten her hair done, short strands curling under
her ears. “Rosalina, I walk past this shop every day and you’re in the window every single time.
Doesn’t Richard give you a day off?”
Richard is my boss. And I’m sure he’d like to give me days off... permanently. But he’d never find
anyone else in town who’s willing to open and close nearly every day with no overtime pay.
“Oh, I ask to work this much.” I stand behind the till. “Keeps me busy.”
Josie and Tiffany exchange a pitying glance.
“I thought I saw your father driving into town the other day,” Tiffany says slowly. “Where was he
this time?”
“He just came back from Petra. In Jordan.” I turn away, not wanting them to see my face flush.
“He’s on the road again, though.”
“No faeries in Petra, then?” Josie squeaks. She’s trying to say it as a genuine question, but there’s
laughter behind her words. A giddiness in getting more gossip for their little get-togethers at coffee
shops and workout classes. I won’t give it to her.
“No,” I mutter. “He hasn’t found what he’s looking for yet.”
“Come on, let’s check the new magazines.” Tiffany pulls Josie to the back of the shop.
Leaning against the counter, I put my head in my hands. Maybe this’s why Richard keeps me
around. When it’s not tourist season, the only way to drive business is to be the circus act for regulars
to come and taunt.
I shouldn’t think that way. Josie and Tiffany are nice enough. And I’ve had plenty of friends in Orca
Cove. Sure, they all moved on after graduation, going to college or making their mark in big cities. I
don’t hear from them much anymore. And when I do, it’s hard to follow up their news about
promotions or travel plans or whatever exciting adventure with... I’m still here. Working at the
bookstore. Looking after Papa. Right where you left me.
I keep myself busy by grabbing a stack of freshly unboxed Home & Garden magazines and carrying
them to the back of the store to show to Josie and Tiffany. Despite the long hours, I do like my job.
I’m literally surrounded by books. How could you not love that?
The door jingles open and Josie and Tiffany walk in, nattering to one another. They’re as typical of
“Hello,” I say, pretending to fix the display instead of staring out at the rain like a weirdo. “How
Josie stops and puts her hands on her hips. She’s gotten her hair done, short strands curling under
her ears. “Rosalina, I walk past this shop every day and you’re in the window every single time.
Richard is my boss. And I’m sure he’d like to give me days off... permanently. But he’d never find
“I thought I saw your father driving into town the other day,” Tiffany says slowly. “Where was he
“He just came back from Petra. In Jordan.” I turn away, not wanting them to see my face flush.
“No faeries in Petra, then?” Josie squeaks. She’s trying to say it as a genuine question, but there’s
laughter behind her words. A giddiness in getting more gossip for their little get-togethers at coffee
Leaning against the counter, I put my head in my hands. Maybe this’s why Richard keeps me
around. When it’s not tourist season, the only way to drive business is to be the circus act for regulars
I shouldn’t think that way. Josie and Tiffany are nice enough. And I’ve had plenty of friends in Orca
Cove. Sure, they all moved on after graduation, going to college or making their mark in big cities. I
don’t hear from them much anymore. And when I do, it’s hard to follow up their news about
promotions or travel plans or whatever exciting adventure with... I’m still here. Working at the
I keep myself busy by grabbing a stack of freshly unboxed Home & Garden magazines and carrying
them to the back of the store to show to Josie and Tiffany. Despite the long hours, I do like my job.
The Seagull’s Gullet Book Emporium is long and thin, stuffed full of tall bookcases that turn the
place into a labyrinth. Richard took it over from his parents, and I don’t think he has a love for the
product, but he does have a love for bossing people around and owning a monopoly.
But I’m the one who turned this rundown, leaky, drafty, wooden shack into what it is now. Fairy
lights strung along the rafters? Check. Weekly displays of local interests? Check. Never missing the
latest James Patterson? Check. Sure, a couple of my ideas have flopped. Like sitting by myself in the
middle of the shop, empty chairs dragged in a circle, a steaming pot of tea left unpoured, when no one
showed up for the book club I ran. Or the time Richard made me take down my display celebrating
local folklore, saying I was giving his business a bad reputation.
But I keep trying. It’s all I got.
That’s why I’m happy to show Josie and Tiffany the new magazines.
“It’s a pity. She graduated, what, eight years ago? If it weren’t for her father, I bet she’d have left
with all the rest of the young folk.” Josie’s voice drifts through the stacks. Stepping behind one of the
tallest shelves, I quietly pull out a book to peer at them.
They’re huddled together, pretending to look at the magazines, but instead doing what everyone in
this small town does best. Gossip.
“Of course it’s her father’s fault,” Tiffany whispers back. “She’s a beauty, there’s no denying.
Looks like one of them old movie stars, don’t you think? No wonder Lucas Poussin was all over her.
Remember, Lucas?”
“How could I forget?” Josie swoons. “He was the best thing that ever happen to her. Shame he
didn’t take her to the city with him. Saved her life, but couldn’t save her from her father’s madness.
Been twenty-five years of Crazy George’s ramblings!”
Tiffany covers her mouth with her hand. “It was funny at first. But now it’s just sad. He’d rather
throw away his money and his daughter’s future than accept his wife ran off.”
“No, no, she was stolen by faeries! Maybe Santa’s got her working away in his toyshop.” Josie lets
out a cackle and Tiffany swats her arm.
My face flushes and tears prick the corners of my eyes. I know the town talks. How could I not?
But to hear it so plainly...
I want to storm out and scream that I’ve heard everything they’d said. That they have no idea what
they’re talking about. That Papa isn’t mad. That with every trip he takes, every loan he gets to fund an
excursion, he’s getting closer to what he needs.
But they’re not wrong about everything.
The Seagull’s Gullet Book Emporium is long and thin, stuffed full of tall bookcases that turn the
place into a labyrinth. Richard took it over from his parents, and I don’t think he has a love for the
But I’m the one who turned this rundown, leaky, drafty, wooden shack into what it is now. Fairy
lights strung along the rafters? Check. Weekly displays of local interests? Check. Never missing the
latest James Patterson? Check. Sure, a couple of my ideas have flopped. Like sitting by myself in the
middle of the shop, empty chairs dragged in a circle, a steaming pot of tea left unpoured, when no one
showed up for the book club I ran. Or the time Richard made me take down my display celebrating
“It’s a pity. She graduated, what, eight years ago? If it weren’t for her father, I bet she’d have left
with all the rest of the young folk.” Josie’s voice drifts through the stacks. Stepping behind one of the
They’re huddled together, pretending to look at the magazines, but instead doing what everyone in
“Of course it’s her father’s fault,” Tiffany whispers back. “She’s a beauty, there’s no denying.
Looks like one of them old movie stars, don’t you think? No wonder Lucas Poussin was all over her.
“How could I forget?” Josie swoons. “He was the best thing that ever happen to her. Shame he
didn’t take her to the city with him. Saved her life, but couldn’t save her from her father’s madness.
Tiffany covers her mouth with her hand. “It was funny at first. But now it’s just sad. He’d rather
“No, no, she was stolen by faeries! Maybe Santa’s got her working away in his toyshop.” Josie lets
My face flushes and tears prick the corners of my eyes. I know the town talks. How could I not?
I want to storm out and scream that I’ve heard everything they’d said. That they have no idea what
they’re talking about. That Papa isn’t mad. That with every trip he takes, every loan he gets to fund an
Lucas did save my life.
Head down, I slink to the front counter. When I hear them shuffling back, I force a smile on my face
and wave them out.
A pang of guilt sits heavy in my stomach that I didn’t stand up for myself. For Papa. But what’s the
point?
Nothing will change the fact I’m always going to be different.
Maybe they’re right about him.
Maybe they’re right about me.
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THE SKY HAS DARKENED to a deep gray, and the streetlights turn on as I shrug on my coat and
prepare to lock up.
Richard came an hour ago to do the monthly inventory. Thankfully, this is one of the only tasks he
doesn’t trust me with. His dirty plaid jacket hangs over the cardboard boxes as he opens the latest
shipments.
“Okay, I’m heading out now,” I call. “See you later, Richard.”
He grunts as a response, but as I place my hand on the door, his deep voice bellows, “What the
fuck are these?”
He holds up a couple of the latest romance paperbacks I ordered. With a delighted squeal, I snatch
one from him. “They finally came! Our collection has been stale, so I ordered some things to freshen
it up. This one is a romance about a magical university, and this is a contemporary about a girl who
pretends to be her brother to play hockey—”
Head down, I slink to the front counter. When I hear them shuffling back, I force a smile on my face
A pang of guilt sits heavy in my stomach that I didn’t stand up for myself. For Papa. But what’s the
to a deep gray, and the streetlights turn on as I shrug on my coat and
Richard came an hour ago to do the monthly inventory. Thankfully, this is one of the only tasks he
doesn’t trust me with. His dirty plaid jacket hangs over the cardboard boxes as he opens the latest
He grunts as a response, but as I place my hand on the door, his deep voice bellows, “What the
He holds up a couple of the latest romance paperbacks I ordered. With a delighted squeal, I snatch
one from him. “They finally came! Our collection has been stale, so I ordered some things to freshen
it up. This one is a romance about a magical university, and this is a contemporary about a girl who
“Romances?” Richard spits. “Rosalina, how many times have I told you? These don’t sell.” He
slaps his forehead with a palm. “How much budget did you waste on this drivel?”
I tug the book against my chest. “It’s not drivel...”
Richard digs through the box like an angry mole. “Is this whole damn order romance? What kind of
idiot are you?” He stares straight at me, his eyes squinty and dark. “They’re going back.”
“But... If you’d let me put them on display—”
“Listen, O’Connell,” my boss snarls. “You’d think for living here your whole damned life, you’d
know the people in this town don’t like change. They want the authors they know. And they especially
don’t want mindless, unrealistic garbage like this. The only person in this town foolish enough to eat
this shit up is you.”
You can’t talk to me like that. You wouldn’t know literature if it smashed you in the head. You’re
mean and angry and look like a mole. I quit. These things and more rush through my head, but my
throat is so dry, and my heart beats too fast. Then another voice joins the fray: You need this job.
Papa needs the money. You’re not capable of anything else.
Instinctively, I tug down the left sleeve of my sweater. “I-I’ll make sure to send the books back.
First thing tomorrow.”
Richard sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, I was friends with George back in the
day.”
George. My father.
“I want to keep you employed for his sake. Don’t make that so hard, okay?”
I nod, taking a deep inhale to suck back my tears. “Okay.” Somewhere, I find an ounce of courage
and whisper, “Before we send them back, can I buy two?”
Richard waves an idle hand. “Fine. Grab what you want. I’ll take it out of your paycheck.”
Carefully, I choose two books and tuck them into my purse. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Rosalina,” he says somberly. As if dealing with me is the worst part of his day. And it
probably is.
That’s what Lucas used to say.
I step outside into the rain, wishing above all else I could be anywhere but here.
“Romances?” Richard spits. “Rosalina, how many times have I told you? These don’t sell.” He
slaps his forehead with a palm. “How much budget did you waste on this drivel?”
I tug the book against my chest. “It’s not drivel...”
Richard digs through the box like an angry mole. “Is this whole damn order romance? What kind of
idiot are you?” He stares straight at me, his eyes squinty and dark. “They’re going back.”
“But... If you’d let me put them on display—”
“Listen, O’Connell,” my boss snarls. “You’d think for living here your whole damned life, you’d
know the people in this town don’t like change. They want the authors they know. And they especially
don’t want mindless, unrealistic garbage like this. The only person in this town foolish enough to eat
this shit up is you.”
You can’t talk to me like that. You wouldn’t know literature if it smashed you in the head. You’re
mean and angry and look like a mole. I quit. These things and more rush through my head, but my
throat is so dry, and my heart beats too fast. Then another voice joins the fray: You need this job.
Papa needs the money. You’re not capable of anything else.
Instinctively, I tug down the left sleeve of my sweater. “I-I’ll make sure to send the books back.
First thing tomorrow.”
Richard sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, I was friends with George back in the
day.”
George. My father.
“I want to keep you employed for his sake. Don’t make that so hard, okay?”
I nod, taking a deep inhale to suck back my tears. “Okay.” Somewhere, I find an ounce of courage
and whisper, “Before we send them back, can I buy two?”
Richard waves an idle hand. “Fine. Grab what you want. I’ll take it out of your paycheck.”
Carefully, I choose two books and tuck them into my purse. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Rosalina,” he says somberly. As if dealing with me is the worst part of his day. And it
probably is.
That’s what Lucas used to say.
I step outside into the rain, wishing above all else I could be anywhere but here.