FicWad

"I would definitely be going back to the 1920's" Patrick said, trying on a grey fedora with a sad looking feather stuck in the side. Somehow we had made our way into an antique store, and Patrick, like I, had a fascination for hats from the early 1900's. I was sporting a Kelly green feather headpiece with this veil that was slightly torn. Greta in turn held up an off white lacy slip.

"Take our picture B!" Patrick said. Greta slipped her head between the hanger and the slip so it looked like she was wearing it, and we both posed on either side of Patrick, making him look like a real hot shot. Brendon held up the camera and took much longer than normal to focus and take the picture.

"A little trouble taking the picture there darling?" Greta asked, putting the dress back on the rack. We continued our way down the narrow isle, stopping in front of a booth with various musical instruments stuffed anywhere they would fit. In fact, the whole store was like that. One had to be careful as to not knock anything over.


We wandered around the booth of musical instruments for a moment, Patrick's fingers grazing the strings of a nearby guitar, and a sour noise filled the air.

"I wanted it to be good, okay?" Brendon said, cringing. I laughed.

"You make the oddest faces," I told him, and his expression turned to one of obvious fake shock.

"That's not what the pre-teen population of America is saying!" Patrick said, earning a glare from Brendon.

"You mean how they all say he's ugly, right?" Greta teased, following Patrick towards a box of records and leaving Brendon with an actual shocked face.

"She's just teasing. You know that. Don't be all surprised. As my friend Mary would say, 'You're hot and you know it,'" I stated before immediately being drawn to six and a half foot high shelves filled with books. I opened one to a random page, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath of the stale smell of the neglected artifacts.

"What are you doing?" Brendon asked from behind me, causing me to jump a little. I turned around, and due to the close proximity of the book cases, he was a little too close for comfort. Maneuvering to the side, I explained my actions.

"My grandmother died when I was young and my grandfather had a stroke and couldn't move one side of his body. My mother, brother and I spent at least a week one summer cleaning out their house, and they collected some of the most random things! But that summer smelled like this. Sure, most people find it gross, but I find it comforting. I would give anything to go see that house again, to go back in time," I explained, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. "I'm sorry I just get really emotional about the whole thing. We had to put my grandfather in a nursing home and I hated going to visit him and I still feel really guilty about that. Gah, you don't need to listen to this crap," I finished, wiping away the one tear I let loose.

"Hey now, shh," Brendon whispered, pulling me into a hug. I felt him exhale as if he had been holding his breath. I pulled away.

"Are you okay?" I asked, regaining my composure. He grinned as a tinge of pink graced his cheeks.

"I've wanted to hug you but I just haven't had an excuse," he admitted. This time I pulled him in for a hug.

"Thanks for listening," I said, putting the book back on the shelf. He reached up and brought it back down.

"I wanna buy it now," he said, answering my questioning look. "Now I can just give it to you whenever I wanna hug you," he grinned as I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help cracking a smile as well.

"Your eyes are a beautiful shade of blue when you cry," he whispered again, his eyes looking into mine. Before I could respond we were interrupted.

"Hey kids where'd you go?" Patrick called. We filed out from between the bookcases, and discovered Greta trying on wigs.

"I've always thought I should have been a red head," she said, a fire engine red wig somehow hiding her mass of blonde hair.

We laughed and returned to the front of the store. Brendon bought the book, while Greta found a great vintage dress that was mustard yellow and navy dots and Patrick narrowed his picks to one hat, the same fedora from the picture. I had found a box of old photographs and picked out a 2 wedding photos. Well, at least the bride and what seemed to be her parents. She didn't look happy, and you think a bride would be happy on her wedding day. The next was the same bride with two brides maids, who were all laughing. The two made me laugh, and I loved having random photos of people I didn't know.

"She looks so enthused by the institution of marriage," Greta commented once we were out of the store.

"I know! That's what I love about it! It screams feminist art to me," I said dramatically.

"Speaking of feminist art, what are you studying?" Patrick asked as we continued past small shops, stopping to window shop along the way.

"Nice transition there. Anyway, I'm going to be a veterinarian. Well, I hope. Someday. We'll see." I said. "In about 7 years or so. Maybe less if I overload and graduate early." I said. His mouth dropped open.

"Wow. That's a lot of school." he said.

"Yeah. I hate school too." I responded.

"I almost didn't graduate," Brendon said. I looked up at him surprised.

"Really? I don't believe you," I said.

"Better believe it. The music was too much," he replied.

"Gotta follow your heart," Greta said. "follow your heart."