Joey hated his name. It was so bland and unoriginal and made one think of kangaroos pouncing around in zoo cages. If he shortened it to the more adult Joe, he would be the “average Joe,” but no he didn’t want that. He wanted to be Gomanyth or Sevedric or Lalebwyn or one of those other heroes he read in fantasy books who always got the girl and saved the day. Idly, he rubbed the bridge of his nose where an unsightly pimple had decided to pop up in the middle of the night. He was no hero, only a gangly teenager forced to work at the local bookstore in hopes of saving enough money for college.
When he first became a bookstore clerk, it was everything that he had imagined—boring. Sometimes he helped customers find a title (it was no harder than looking something up in the library), but most of the time he waited around checkout, thumbing through the latest fantasy or chatting with the other cashier who went through approximately three romances every two days.
It changed a couple weeks into his job when he noticed her. Her name was Meredith (he knew because he typed her name in the computer for her bookstore membership) and she was perfect. The first time he noticed her, she had been wearing a smart black beret above her long curls and a grey coat that accented her slim frame. And she bought an economics textbook for a class at the local college. He was in heaven when she paid for the book at his counter and graced him with a low throaty voice when she said hello. He paid a lot more attention in economics class after that.
Meredith came to the bookstore almost like clockwork on Wednesday afternoon to browse through the economics texts. So Wednesdays became sacred. Joey would arrive for work as if he would go to church. This must be what holy men meant by enlightenment, he often wondered. But aside from the occasional greeting and comments on the weather, she gave no indication that she noticed him as more than just a bookstore clerk. He began contemplating on borrowing one of his co-worker’s romances to find out what would sweep a woman off her feet as his own fantasy novels were completely impractical in instigating (swords and dragons were notoriously hard to come by).
“Hello Joey.”
He snapped out of his daydream. “Um. Hello.”
Meredith dumped her purchases on the counter, a birthday card, two pens, a copy of Consumer Reports, and something else, which had Joey looking twice. A magazine that said Bride in big, bold, pink lettering. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something sparkling on her fingers as she reached into her wallet for a ten-dollar bill.
“Someone getting married?” he asked in what he thought was a steady, casual voice.
“I am.” She favored him with a bright smile, but he felt his blood run cold at the words. “My boyfriend proposed a couple days ago.”
“Congratulations.” Joey felt all previous warmth seep through him as he numbly handed Meredith the change and watched her exit the store. His hand shook as he straightened the rack of bookmarks and the boxes of paper clips on the counter. And he wondered if he would ever find enlightenment ever again.
