The Cynical Bookworm

Freya Adair walked the winding streets of the small town lost in thought. At the moment, she was so lost in her thoughts that not even a GPS could guide her to get destination, wherever that was. Marjorie was on Freya's mind. Alec was on Freya's mind. Marcus was on Freya's mind. Her impending doom was on Freya's mind. In all, there was quite a lot on Freya's mind. Her mother always said a walk was the best way to clear one's mind of anything and everything.

Freya was still walking when she passed a shop that made her feet stop their forward progression and march backwards. In front of her was a bookstore that brought Rose to her mind. She and Rose often walked through New York, aimlessly. On one occasion, the two had come across a small bookshop, cramped between a tattoo shop and a vegan restaurant in the Village. This shop reminded Freya of the one back in New York. It was that very remembrance that made her walk in.
Old paper and coffee were the prominent smells and Freya smiled. They smelled like her mother’s apartment. Freya walked through the aisles, fingering the spines of books whose authors were long gone but their words eternalized.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” A voice asked Freya, startling her.

“Oh, sorry. The shop looked so promising, I just had to come in.” She said with a smile. The voice belonged to a dark-haired boy with sparkling brown eyes and dark hair.

“Well, if you have anything in particular on your mind, let me know.” He said before walking away.

“Well, can you recommend anything?” Freya called to him. He turned around and thought for a moment before gesturing for her to follow him. Freya followed him closely and when he stopped, she ran into him.

“Sorry.” She said in small voice.

“It’s fine. I’d recommend these.” He said, referring to a pile of Dickens’ books and Freya smiled.

“I’ve already read all those.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Do you like Dickens?”

“Oh, he’s my favorite English writer. I love the voice his characters always have.”

“Well, have you read Dostoyevsky?” He asked.

Freya wrinkled her nose in distaste. “The last time I gave Russian literature a shot, it was in high school and I didn’t like it is a nice way of stating my opinion.”

“Which one did you read?”

“Crime and Punishment for AP Literature.”

“That’s no good. You’re probably scarred for life.”

Freya laughed as she nodded her head. The boy headed deeper into the store and sorted through shelves of books. As he searched, Freya studied him. He was tall, almost as tall as Alec so she assumed he stood at, at least, six feet. His hair was a dark brown and fell in his eyes. His eyes were a twinkling brown.

“Have you read Joyce?”

“A little here and there.”

“Have you read Dubliners?”

“No, can’t say I’ve come across it.”

He handed her a black book with the title engraved in it. “Tell me what you think.” Freya looked up to the boy and sent him another smile. It seemed all she could do around this boy was smile.

Freya walked back to the front of the store and was rifling through her bag for her wallet when the boy said “This one’s on me.”

“But, I can’t just leave with your book. I have to pay you.”

“How about you come by and tell me what you think when you finish it. I love hearing other people’s opinions of the book.”

“Well, kind stranger, I’ll hold you to it.”

“You have a great day…” Trailing off, not knowing her name.

“Freya Adair.”

“Freya, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Finn Thompson.

“Thank you, Finn.”

“Not a problem, Freya. Come by some time.” Finn said. Freya gave him a nod before walking out of the store. The Maine air hit her and Freya thought clearly. Finn was a boy who would want nothing to do with a girl who would soon be married. It would not be fair to him or anyone else.
Freya came home to hear Marcus arguing with Marjorie.

“I will say this one last time. She will do as I say and there is no way I will change my mind. This is for our own good.”

“Marcus, money will not buy my happiness but it will surely ruin hers.” Marjorie said, feeling rather desperate.

“She will learn to be happy.” Marcus said in an off-hand manner. “End of discussion.”

Marcus left the kitchen and Freya walked in. Marjorie stood with her head held low and her shoulders shaking.

“Marge, you shouldn’t worry.” Freya said as soothingly as she could. “It’s not your fault.

“Freya, we’re offering you as a sacrifice. This is worse than Abraham and Isaac.”

“No, Marge, I’m fine. I won’t say that this is great and that I don’t mind this. However, I know it’s not your fault. It’s something neither of us have any hope of fixing. It’s not your fault Marcus is a complete arse.”

“I really do love you, Freya.”

“I know, Marge. I know.” Freya held Marjorie in a tight embrace before leaving for her room with Joyce in hand. It was safe to say, Freya was still thinking of Finn. She shook her head when her phone started ringing, Alec’s name appearing in bold digital letters. Freya sighed. She would never have the chance of ever experiencing love and heartache and heartbreak. Her fate was decided and it was best that she begin to understand that.

“Hello.” She said as she answered.

“Freya, would you do me the honors of accompanying me to dinner on this fine evening?” Alec asked her in an overly joyous tone.

“Your father’s standing right next to you, isn’t he?” Freya asked with a sad smile.

The pair had been reduced to meaningless acts of kindness and joy all for their fathers’ sake. They were the puppets as their parents pulled the strings.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right. Now, how about I pick you up at eight? I want you to meet someone.”

“Someone? This is supposed to be strictly between you and Freya.” Jon’s voice carried through the line.

“Father, I’m on the phone. Freya, see you tonight, love.” Alec said before quickly hanging up.

Freya smiled. Alec would be the one to get away with irritating their parents. Freya opened the book Finn gave her and immersed herself in the stories of various characters living in Dublin, forgetting her own problems. Hours passed by with Freya too occupied with the ink and paper before her to notice something as trivial as time. The only thing that alerted her of the time was a doorbell followed by a shout from Marge.

“Freya, Alec is here. Come down.”

Freya bolted from her bed and began running around her room, frantic. She quickly donned a black dress and red heels before brushing on makeup with lightening speed. The eyeliner was hitting the vanity and Freya was already putting on light pink lipstick. Leaving her hair down, Freya grabbed a clutch and walked out of her room in under seven minutes.

Alec was seated in the foyer with Marge and Marcus looking uncomfortable to say the least.

“Hey, love. Ready to go?” Freya asked with a wide smile.

“Mhmm, let’s go.” Alec said taking in the sight of Freya. Her dress was far too short for any man to not gawk. “I’ll have her home by twelve.” Alec said to Marcus.

“Twelve? Alec, we’re getting married. There’s no need for a curfew. Actually, Marcus, I think I’ll spend the night at Alec’s.” Freya said with a smile that dared Marcus to challenge her. They were getting married; she could get away with anything, so long as Alec was involved.
Marcus gave a pained nod before storming out of the room.

“Bye, Marge.” Freya placed her hand in Alec’s and walked out of the house.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh come on, we can piss off our parents to no extent now. Marcus probably thinks I’m planning to fuck your brains out tonight and he can’t really do much since he brought this on himself. He doesn’t need to know I’m actually a virgin.”

“You’re a virgin?” Alec sputtered as he started putting on his seatbelt.

Freya blushed the color of her hair. “Yea, let’s pretend I never said that.”

“Alright, forget that.” He said with a wide smile. “So, I have someone I want you to meet. They’re already at the restaurant.”

“Is this someone important?”

“Of the utmost importance.”

The remainder of the car ride was spent in silence with Freya and Alec both thinking of the same thing, their impending marriage.

“I’m warning you now, my friend tends to be a bit blunt. Don’t get offended.”

“What?” Freya asked as she got out of the car and they began walking into the restaurant. However, she couldn’t finish her thought for a voice interrupted.

“Alec, where have you been? You’re quite late you know.” The voice belonged to a girl with brown hair reaching waist and bright green eyes. She had a gleam in her eyes and her painted red lips were twisted in a pout.

“Sorry, Freya here kept me waiting.”

“So this is her?” The girl said with a raised eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” Freya asked.

“I’ve gotta say, she’s too nice-looking for you. What was your father thinking? Even with heels and that short dress, she looks like a saint.”

“Excuse me, but who are you?”

“I’m Loran, this loser’s best friend.”