Chapter Text
It’s almost dinner time by the time you start to stroll about the town.
You almost changed clothes due to the heat of the summer, but you found it survivable as long as you found shade every now and then and relied on a long canteen with a handle you found, something that Maria referred to as a “travel mug”, filled with ice water. You look around the town square - more like a circle actually - with the fountain in the center. You see a florist shop, a tailor’s, and a boutique with nice clothes displayed in the window. You approach them, your eyes catching on a particular pair of shoes worn by a mannequin.
Lightless velvet encased a boot with a skinny heel, a pointed toe, and a lip that stopped a few centimeters below the calf. You glance at the price, and cringe. One day, you think. One day, you’ll take those home.
You keep walking, and try to not think about how unprepared you are for all of this.
You come across a brick building with a lamp in front of it and a hanging sign that reads...Patty’s Pages. It takes you a few blinks for your brain to be able to read it for some reason. A bookstore? Maybe there’s a book on how to get a job! It couldn’t hurt to see if there’s one in a language you know in here.
You walk inside, listening to a bell ring in response as the door opens and closes behind you. You make sure the lid of your canteen is sealed shut before strolling in deeper. Every wall in the building is full of shelves crowded with books. Every aisle has one rolling ladder that sits at the end, far enough out to where you could trip on it. Different genres are all mixed together. Nothing is alphabetized. There are even stacks of tomes on the floor in the corners.
It is the most organized mess you’ve ever seen. You hate it~!
“Hello,” a friendly voice calls out past the mess. “Welcome in!”
You turn the corner and come face-to-face with an older woman; white curls are tight, almost flat, on her scalp as she adjusts round glasses. You see crows feet and bunny lines pronounced behind them as she smiles at you. You would probably guess incorrectly on where she’s from, but she looks the closest to Ka Buean. You try to smile back. “Hi. I’m looking for a…” What are you looking for exactly? “I guess a book on how to get a job???”
She chuckles. “You’re new, right?”
Why does everyone here know who you are!!! “Yeah. I’m Loo-Luca.” Whoops. You almost slipped up there.
If she noticed, she doesn’t point it out. “I’m Patricia. I hope us locals aren’t bothering you too much. We just don’t get new people that often.”
Your smile is genuine this time. “Nah, everyone’s been really nice so far.”
“Good, good. So, a book on how to get a job. That’s your next step?”
You nod. “I got settled in a house yesterday while my old one is getting rebuilt.”
Patricia’s eyes light up a little. “Oh, you’re planning on staying then?”
“For the time being. I certainly don’t have any plans to go anywhere else!”
She grins. “Well then. I believe there’s a few books on how to get started somewhere around here. I’d try towards that back corner, third shelf from the top I believe. That’s where I last saw one related to job-searching.”
You thank her for her help and leave her desk to search through the chaos. She was right though. It takes you rolling a ladder over to reach the higher shelf, but you do find a…um…
Wait. Wait a blinding minute.
You…you know that it is physically impossible for all of these books to be written in your home language. But here you are, watching words in characters that you don’t recognize jumble and shift into something you can read.
First you wake up in an apparently super dangerous forest with a new power and almost die of pneumonia, then you’re informed that most people here aren’t human but the ones that aren’t have to hide for reasons that Sonny won’t tell you, and now words on things you look at can translate themselves.
This place is insane! Everything here is insane!
“Luca?”
You forgot to breathe. You force an inhale. “Yes?”
You didn’t hear Patricia approach you. She’s holding the ladder’s handle. “You started shaking. Everything alright?”
You blink, and exhale. “…yeah. Sorry. I don’t do well with heights.”
“Oh! I could’ve gotten it for you.”
“It’s fine,” you reassure, looking back towards the book case and find one that’s titled Job Hunting for Dummies. You grab it and make your way down the ladder with Patricia hanging onto it for you. “Thank you.”
“Of course. If it’s not what you’re looking for, then come find me. I can put it back for you so you don’t have to deal with the ladder again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I’m very used to them.”
You don’t know why, but her kindness doesn’t make you feel like a burden. “…okay. Thank you.”
Patricia gives you a gentle smile. “I’ll leave you to it then! Call me if you need anything.”
You watch her turn and walk away before opening the book in front of you. You find a hidden corner, and start to skim.
The more you read, the more you realize that your lack of experience is a massive problem. You look over soft and hard skills, different types of jobs, long-term versus short-term, and more. Your eye catches on something called a temporary job.
You get an idea.
Clearly you need to speed-run getting soft skills for any job in general. What’s stopping you from getting multiple, short-term ones over the course of the next year? Maybe a job per month? That way you can have multiple opportunities to gain certain skills in different industries. Plus, you’ve always been a jack-of-all-trades. When you can remember your trades, that is.
You look around at the messy bookstore around you…maybe you can start here?
You mentally prepare a speech and find Patricia at the check-out desk. “Hi again!”
“You decided you want that one?”
“Actually, I have a proposal. If you’re willing to hear me out.”
Patricia eyes the book before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Go on.”
“So, before I came here, I was in a…let’s call it a unique situation where I was unable to keep a job for very long. So I need a way to develop ‘soft skills’ quickly and efficiently.”
She’s still smiling at you. “O-kay. And how does that involve me?”
You inhale. “First of all, I understand if it is a no. You met me maybe ten minutes ago, and I have no applicable experience.”
Patricia raises an eyebrow. “Alright. What are you suggesting, then?”
You exhale. “I’d like to work here for a month. I’d need to be paid due to my current situation. And in exchange, I will take care of the organization of your bookshelves.”
Her smile falls, her eyes widening a little. Clearly that is not what she was expecting you to say! “Oh, that…” She glances at the walls of books stacked haphazardly. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m willing if it’s paid.” Your brain is already picturing the many ways you could section and alphabetize this place. “I can give you time to think about it, but I’d like an answer by Monday.” Today was Friday. That would be enough time for her, right?
Patricia…blinks. “You’re serious about this.”
“Very.”
You watch her mull it over. “…okay. I’ll think about it. Come back Monday when you can and I’ll give you my answer.”
You!!! Can work with that!!! You try to hide your excitement. “Okay! I’ll be back then.” You set aside the job hunting book. “Thank you for your time!”
“Of course.” Her smile is back. “I’ll see you then, Luca.”
The weekend came and went without much circumstance, save for the one time late at night where you went out to the dumpster of the tailor shop to hunt down any scraps you could use to make something cute. You spent your time looking over the cookbooks Sonny pointed out to you, occasionally making anything you found interesting, and organizing the books in your house as practice. You teach yourself how to hunt down the genre of a novel and how to alphabetize based on the authors last name. There’s a hefty amount of nonfiction on your shelves that you’d love to donate, but alas. Sonny made it very clear that nothing in this house would be yours forever. You’ve since moved them to lower bookshelves where you don’t have to look at them.
You eventually do pick up a shorter novel to read. If you’re going to shoot your shot at a bookstore, then you might as well see if you actually like reading or not.
And it turns out you do! It’s a mystery involving a female detective that you could’ve ingested easily in your late childhood, but it keeps your attention enough that you’re surprised it’s well past dinner time when you glance up at the clock after a hundred or so pages.
You continue to read during and after you eat, only breaking to shower and get ready for bed. You end up finishing the book in the lamplight by midnight.
Your eyes hurt, and you can’t stop yawning, but you’re smiling anyways. Yes, it was pretty clear that it was a kids book, but you still had fun. You can’t remember the last time you got to be a kid.
…have you ever gotten to be a kid? You don’t think so, not to your memory at least.
You think of the female detective, riddled with teenage and adult responsibilities, and wonder what it’s like to have a happy conclusion to the end of your story.
When you walk into the bookstore after lunch the next day…saying you waltzed into chaos was an understatement.
Large boxes are stacked in front of, on top of, and behind the check-out desk in a way that make you worry that Patricia will trip on them. She’s currently digging through one on the floor, pulling out books and setting them aside to shelve later.
“Miss Patricia?”
Her head shoots up. “Oh, hello Luca!”
“Hi! Whatchya got there?”
She turns to look at all of the disorder around her. “Um…a disaster?”
Her tone makes you laugh as you approach the desk. “So what’s your goal, exactly?”
Patricia sighs. “Well, I’m trying to get these unloaded and shelved before I close, but I know that isn’t happening.”
You set down your water bottle, and peek inside the one she’s currently on. “Do they just go anywhere?”
“Some of them are pre-orders from clients, some are general orders, and some are restock. Thankfully I’ve already set aside the former.”
“…so, they go anywhere.”
She laughs. “Pretty much!”
You pick up a book, and look around the book store. “There isn’t a lot of space to put these…is that why they end up on the floor?”
“Unfortunately. One day I’ll have a better system.”
You snort. “How about I go see if I can make some room?” And you walk off before she can answer.
You look around, and- aha! There’s some space at the very top of the bookcase on the wall farthest from the front door. If you can move those middle books up higher…
You get to work. You silently grab any books that will fit in your hands and move up and down the ladder to prop them on the very top shelf. You’d take care of this mess later anyways, if you got the chance.
You’re almost done by the time Patricia catches up to you. “…I thought you were afraid of heights.”
You freeze, and sigh. “Yeah, I…I lied,” you admit shamefully. “It’s going to sound insane, but I saw the letters move and I…”
She seems to immediately clock in on what you’re talking about. “Ah. Caught you off-guard?”
You nod. “I’m perfectly fine with heights.”
“Well that’s good.” Patricia drags over a box and starts handing you books. “You know I haven’t hired you yet, right?”
You begin to shelve them. “I know.”
“So, why help?”
“…if I may be completely honest madame?”
“Always.”
You take another book from her hand. “I’ve been sicker than a dog, stuck in a hospital bed, and alone in my house for over two weeks now. I’m super restless and bored as hell~!”
That earns you a cackle. “Sounds like you need employment for more than one reason!”
“Very much so.”
It takes a few moments for Patricia to come down from her laughter, but when she does, the look in her eye tells you all you need to know. “Okay. I’ll take you on. You said you can reorganize everything in one month?”
“I can.” You can do it in less than that, but you intend on learning more than how to fix this poor woman’s chronic inability to assemble a good book display. “When do I start?”
She looks at the chaos of her own creation, then back at you. “Does now work? Just long enough to get everything put away. I don’t want you to overwork on potentially an empty stomach.”
You smile at her consideration. “I ate like twenty minutes ago. You get me until dinner.”
Patricia seems to light up at that. “Perfect!”
The two of you spend the rest of the day putting everything on the shelves and going over the massive binder of book titles that Patricia keeps with occasional customer service breaks. You watch her interact with customers, young and old, while somehow managing to find all of the books they were looking for. You have to admit it; her mayhem may be driving you up the wall, but there is enough structure for her to find almost every book requested of her.
You two are either going to get along like a house on fire, or drive each other crazy, and there’s going to be no in between.
The store is already closed by the time you get to work plotting where each section is going to be. The pencil you’re given is quick and light as you whip it across the pad of paper you borrowed from Pat. “So do you have an idea of what you want your layout to look like?”
“Not really. Any thoughts right out the bat?”
“What are your best sellers?”
She takes a moment to ponder. “Well, I have a lot of romance and mystery readers. Lots of fiction-based customers, save for a rare few.”
“Then we put those ones near the back.” You scribble some writing down in…in…
In your language. You slow down. The language of the stars, lines and dots that remind you of constellations, spell out letters and words from your fingers for the first time since…ever. You smile to yourself.
“That way people see more of other stuff as they walk through.”
Patricia smiles too. “Smart. You sure you’re not a sales-person?”
You snort. “Positive. I don’t know if it’ll help or not, but I’ve seen other businesses do it in the past.” You can’t think of any specific instances where it happened to you - thanks to your garbage memory, you’re nearly unable to clearly recall anything before the loops~! - but it sounds right, doesn’t it?
“That makes sense to me.” She looks at the clock. “It’s getting late, so I’ll tell you what. I’ll have you come in during the morning so I can train you on how we really operate, and after you’re comfortable with being here by yourself, I can shift your schedule around for you to work after hours so you can focus on shifting all the books around.”
You think about it for about five seconds before realizing that her plan doesn’t exactly align with yours. “What length of a shift are you thinking?”
“…may I have that paper and pencil?”
You pass them over and watch her fold a new page; her scribbles look more haphazard than yours. It takes you a moment or two to realize that she’s calculating. “Right now I can have you in part-time. Does six hours for four days sound good?”
You don’t know, so you nod. “What if I did half of the shift while the store was open and half while it was closed? So I can see if my progress is working and I can adjust accordingly.” And so you can get some people skills instead of watching them like some stalker.
She nods without looking up. “That can be arranged.”
So for the next few days, you go in right as the store opens and leave about two hours before it closes. You learn how to clean the reading couches and chairs and what vendors Patricia uses to buy from. You go over the paper Wish List where people can write down what books they want to see on the shelves. You absorb what events are on what days, like how Book Club is on Wednesdays at three and Game Night is Tuesdays during the last hour before closing time, and how to prep for them appropriately.
You’ve also been learning how to cook and clean, taking the time to maintain the little home you’ve been allowed to borrow over the weekend. You’re also teaching yourself how to properly pack a lunch for work and how to prep for dinner that night so you’re not scrambling to chop vegetables when you’re already starving.
It’s only been maybe a week and a half since you’ve left the hospital, but you’re hopeful. Pat said you’d be paid by this upcoming Thursday and recommended that you go see the local Farmer’s market for more food. You’ve called Sonny and told her how much you’re working so that she can start calculating rent for you. Patricia also kindly donated a calendar for you to keep track of the days and your shifts since they seem to blur together.
Which is part of why you’ve been standing here for the past few minutes, staring at its spot on the fridge. You start your second Monday of work tomorrow; it’s also September first, your “birthday”.
You’d always associated that day positively. Even if it wasn’t really yours, even if it was just a random day you picked out along with your name, it was still a good day. One was a solid number representing new beginnings and individuality. September was the month of renewal. It seemed to fit. You just wish…you want to know how old you really are.
You grab that nice pen that’s slowly becoming your favorite, and math it out on the back of a piece of paper. You averaged your loops to be about a quarter of a day long, not having the privilege to be able to skip ahead and jump around like Stardust could with your help. Somehow, somehow, you still know how to do long division enough that you piece together that you’ve been in the time loop for about fifteen thousand loops, and that maths out to…to about…
You nearly drop your pen. You were stuck there for a decade!? No wonder you almost killed Siffrin!!!
You sigh, and write a little crown on September first. You were anywhere from thirty-five to thirty-nine years old, given you guess that you were in your mid-to-late twenties when you got stuck. It’s less of a surprise that your current peers would take you more seriously now; you probably look the part since you aged up. Maybe you could make a little cake, or a dinner that you know you like? You don’t have the makings for malanga fritters, but maybe there’s something else…
You pick up the cook book you’ve been following and try to find something that looks familiar. You come across a recipe for accras, which sounds familiar enough to you to try it. You’re thankful that there’s a slab of frozen fish steaks in the freezer for you to take out and thaw while you prepare the filling.
You spend the night prepping dinner for the next day, and hope that this happy little bubble you’ve created doesn’t suddenly burst.
But of course it does! Because the Universe hates you-!!!
You arrived at work right as Patricia was flipping the door sign to say Open. You two have a good routine going so far. You often find yourself dusting and sweeping to keep the place clean while alphabetizing anything on the shelves that compulse you to do so. You keep it to a minimum around customers though. You don’t want to seem rude.
Patricia is showing you the till when it happens. The ding of the doorbell catches your attention just enough for you to lift your head to greet whoever had just walked in. Instead, you freeze.
Everything about him is different, save for his eyes. The lighter side between light and dark cascades past his shoulders in a short ponytail, complementing a darkless shade at the crown of his head in a fluff of bangs with darker eyebrows and a growing scruff on his chin. A black zip-up hoodie with rolled up sleeves and splashes of something powdery on the front show off strong arms holding a portable coffee cup and a warm croissant in a napkin.
When you made your wish, you are certain, very certain in fact, that you wished to go somewhere where you and your party don’t exist; and yet, Isabeau is standing in front of you.
Time seems to slow when you lock eyes. You’re pretty sure you’re mirroring the expression on his face right now. You wonder if he’s just as shocked to see you.
“Oh, Robert!” Patricia’s voice breaks through the heavy silence. “How is…everything…?”
He blinks, and sets the items on the counter. “Excuse me, Miss Pat.”
And then you watch him run, just short of bolting out the door, leaving behind the smell of burnt sugar.