Coffee and a Chat (Robin)

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson’s song was put on pause. “Coraline,” she repeated, testing the name out for herself. It sounded familiar, rolled off her tongue with ease. “Yeah. I think that was it.” She nodded her head anyways. Connecting the name to the plot that was piecing itself together in her mind was more difficult than she had hoped. “The main character - Coraline, I guess - brought this cat with her to another world where she had other parents. And they had button… Eyes.” She shuddered at the thought and from a cool trail of wind that passed them by as they walked. “I think there was a movie, too.” Yes, there was a movie. Emerson could remember that much, but she couldn’t remember if she had seen it or not. She probably hadn’t. If she didn’t watch television, films were probably included in that mix, too. She frowned at herself. Did that make her boring? Everyone liked shows and movies. The brunette didn’t know if she didn’t like them or not because she couldn’t quite pinpoint a time in which she watched any. Did that make her weird? Everyone watched shows and movies. Everyone.

Too lost in her own mind, Emerson barely heard anything else that came from Robin’s mouth. She still heard it. Her ears worked very well, actually, making things much louder and clearer than they really were. So she heard him, but barely so. That made her a bad listener, didn’t it? Emerson was frowning more, then. She didn’t want to be boring or weird or a bad listener. She wanted to be fun and normal and a good listener. She wanted to remember things and she wanted to learn things and so when she and Robin arrived at the bookstore, with the lights on and people inside, Emerson didn’t hesitate to go to the doors and step inside.

The girl was greeted with a blast of heat and the jingle of a bell. The bookstore was not like a library. Like Robin had said, there was a bar on one side and shelving on the other. People were talking and people were laughing. To anyone else, it wasn’t a crowded atmosphere. In fact, to anyone else, it was probably a comfortable atmosphere. But Emerson wasn’t wired in the way to think that lots of people was the direct synonym of comfort. Some people looked at her upon her arrival. Only some. Three people, to be exact. Three pairs of eyes, to be exact. And that was three pairs too many. Emerson’s fingers curled into themselves under the sleeves of her sweater and she backed up until she was lightly bumping into someone. Robin. She knew Robin, at least a little bit. More than she knew the three pairs of eyes. “Wanna find my book,” she mumbled, looking down at the coffee colored rug underneath her feet. The rug didn’t look at her or judge her or care if she was boring or weird or not a good listener. “Too many people,” she explained, as if he would understand her reasoning.

[Robin Little]

Before he entered the shop, Robin made a point of checking the times printed on the front door. It looked like it would be open for another hour, which was good news. The cosy inside atmosphere tugged him inside, lingering behind Emerson as his eyes swept the innards. It hadn’t been long since he’d been to the shop but he still felt like a kid in a candy store. There probably wasn’t even anything new, but he liked to look anyway. He liked to scour his favourite sections in case there was something he may have missed on an earlier trip; something he might have heard about in the meantime, which he had dismissed before.

And yet, he didn’t make it very far into the shop. It was bigger than it looked, the bar set to one side but in the front corner, while the book shop ran down along beside it wrapped around the back. The music playing overhead was smooth and of the jazz variety. Not the usual café fare, which was a relief.

Emerson just so happened to step back onto Robin’s toe, which wasn’t very well protected by his shoes. He snatched his foot back and did his best not to react out loud, one hand on Emerson’s shoulder to keep him from stumbling into a stack of books near the doorway. Emerson was an odd kid, that much he was aware of, but he didn’t realise she had more than a problem with memories. Or, he wondered whether the shop or the music or the smell suddenly reminded her of something unpleasant, thus the sudden change in attitude.

”You…” he stopped and glanced up. There was the girl behind the counter, and a guy behind the bar. They had looked up as soon as Robin and Emerson had entered, smiling in greeting as they had no doubt been told to do by their boss. There was another couple who were lingering at the new release shelves by the door, who’d looked up to make sure they weren’t in the way of Robin and Emerson as they would make their way through.

”Are you okay? I can go find it I you want. Ask them if they have it. Coraline, right? You can wait outside…?” he asked. It was not his place to question or judge. People had their things. If Emerson didn’t like people or bookshops, then so be it. He’d do his best to accommodate.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson hadn’t even realized that she’d stepped on Robin’s toe, and she barely acknowledged his hand on her shoulder. It probably would’ve been a gesture that could have helped her calm down if she’d decided to pay attention to it, rather than every other thought that was flying through that pretty little head of hers. Why was she getting so upset? They were just people. Well, probably. One or two of them could’ve been vampires, or whatever else lurked in the city that she had yet to learn about. The fact of what or who they were wasn’t really the source of the problem, but rather the fact that they were there, and they were looking at her, and they were probably picking her apart. Except, in the reality of it, they weren’t. The employees had other customers to attend to and the couple was there for the sole purpose of browsing for books. They weren’t looking at her anymore, and if Emerson would take her eyes off the floor and her feet, she’d be able to see that and calm down and not bring any more attention to herself. But, of course, things weren’t that simple - Emerson wasn’t that simple. She was, somehow, a complex girl. When she looked up, her eyes went well over the heads of the people to read the signs hanging from the ceiling of the place, telling her which section of the bookstore was which. She acted quickly, trying to locate the one in the farthest and quietest corner. And there it was. The children’s section. If she wanted to embarrass herself any more than she already had, that was her chance.

Was Emerson okay? She wasn’t sure. Her blunt nails were sinking into the skin of her palms and she was starting to shake and she couldn’t understand how her heart was racing in her chest if it wasn’t even supposed to beat anymore, so she didn’t answer that question. As for the others - as for waiting outside? On her own? Emerson shook her head quickly, eyes locked on the sign in the corner of the facility. The girl wasn’t safe outside on her own if she wasn’t moving. If she was moving, she could always move faster, turn a different corner, duck into a nearby building. If she wasn’t moving, if she didn’t have a phone, if someone were to pop up and snatch her away… She shook her head again. “No, s’okay, I just-” And she didn’t even let herself finish. Robin’s hand was slipping away from her shoulder once the brunette was on the move, ducking past customers and around shelves with barely-there apologies.

The children’s section, as she had pictured it to be, was small and closed off and oh-so-thankfully empty. That was good, but it wasn’t good enough to calm her down at the moment. Emerson tried to distract herself, because no one was there to see her and it was fine and there wasn’t a reason to be upset, anyways, but it was hard. No matter how tightly she pressed her arms to her sides, her fists still shook, like her hands were little baby earthquakes. She scanned over the shelves, knowing how dumb she looked, knowing how weird she looked, and tried not to care. She found a small Halloween display on the side for kids who actually had the attention span and capability to handle more than a hundred pages worth of words and somehow knew that the book she was looking for was there. And it was, on the bottom shelf. The last copy, so it seemed. Emerson sat on the floor, pulled at the dark binding, and leaned her head against the edge of the display to try and clear her head.

[Robin Little]

The book shop was like a second home to Robin. Or, a third space. There was a study he’d read once about the third space. Everyone should have one. They have their home space, their work space, and a third place where they are most comfortable. The book shop was Robin’s third place, and it showed. When he passed the counter those working behind it smiled at him in the way people smiled at people they knew.

The writer assumed that his new friend was off looking for her book, and he took his time as he meandered through the shop after her. When he did find her, she was sitting on the floor. It looked like she had the book she was looking for, but she didn’t seem too thrilled about it. At least there were no children running around her; it was too late for children. Robin remembered the days he used to come here during the day. One could barely cat past the kids section because of the prams, and the screaming children were just… no. He preferred to come in at night. Even if he swore he could still smell the kid grime as he slid down to sit on the floor beside Emerson.

The couple who were at the door when Robin and Emerson had walked in had followed him down the length of the shop now passed them by, giving them a look. Robin ignored it, even shifted to shield Emerson from it. They were grown-ups but they could do what they liked. He sat on the floor all the time in this shop. Especially when something was on the bottom shelf and he had to figure out whether he wanted it or not. The first chapter always had to be read first.

Robin leaned up against the edge of the shelf and plucked a different book from a different section. It was an illustrated edition of Peter Pan, but it was the original illustrations. There was nothing Disney about it, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

”I always liked Peter Pan,” he said. ”Though I never could figure out whether I liked Wendy or not. If you had a choice of staying in Neverland as a child or coming back to reality to grow up and get a job and fall into credit card debt because you can’t afford to have a good time and pay bills, what would you choose?” he asked. Something had happened. Something was not quite right with Emerson. This was Robin’s way of distracting her.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

It wasn’t that Emerson wasn’t happy to find the book she had been looking for - because she was. The fact that she had some memory of something and now had it just between her fingertips was progress all within itself. No, the source of being upset ran much deeper than that of the surface, and she didn’t even know where to start with explaining it. People were tricky. There were good people and there were bad people and there were people that pretended to be one when they were secretly the other. Emerson had a hard time figuring out who belonged in which category. There was also the consuming factor of having to be good and having to be right. Some may have labeled her as a perfectionist, but that wasn’t exactly the case. In the reality of it all, the girl just wanted to bring good into the world. She believed that what you gave out to the universe was what you got back. And then came the fact aspect of having a conversation. One on one conversation was good. It was beneficial. It opened the doors to learning and teaching and debating and growing between the two parties. More than person speaking at a time was usually all too much unless the circumstances were comfortable. Emerson was not comfortable around strangers, but no one had engaged in conversation and really, truly weren’t judging her, as much as her mind seemed to think the opposite. Her outburst, as she decided to call it, was irrational, in that sense. And yet to her, it made all the perfect sense in the world.

Emerson wouldn’t have noticed the couple’s stare, even if Robin had failed to block them. Her eyes were cast down to focus on the floor and her vision was blurred around the edges. She didn’t really think that she would end up crying, especially over something that others would’ve deemed to be so small and silly, but she was. She tried to scrub at her face as to not mess up her makeup, but with shaking hands balled into fists, it was inevitable. The sigh she let out was ragged as her hands dropped back down into her lap, The pain from clenching her fists so tightly had dulled until her hands were numb. Her whole body felt kind of numb, as if she didn’t belong to it anymore. The feeling was scarily familiar as to how she had felt before she had been turned. She couldn’t have been dying. Right? That wasn’t supposed to be a thing anymore. The brunette tried not to think about it.

Robin started talking to her and she greatly appreciated it. She tried to focus on nothing else but what he was saying. That much was easy until it came with a question that she was intended to answer. She wanted to answer it. She’d thought about it before, evidently, as her opinion on the topic popped into her brain without much thought. Emerson didn’t want to grow up - that much was obvious. Before, as a human, there was nothing she could’ve done to avoid it. She would’ve gone to college, graduated, started a career. Maybe she would’ve found someone to marry, settled down in a quiet town, started a family. Her body would’ve aged and then she would’ve died and she wouldn’t have ever mattered. But things were so much different now. She could stay young forever, physically as she had always wanted, and mentally if she so chose to. She was planning on getting a job for the cash and the free time it would occupy in her days, but nothing with too many responsibilities. She had only herself to worry about. And that was good. All of it was good. Growing up wasn’t supposed to be fun. Being an adult wasn’t supposed to be fun. As you got older, more and more of the truth of the world was revealed. Since the truth hurts, you were supposed to get cranky and angry and stressed. That’s just how it was, and Emerson wanted nothing to do with it. All she ever knew was happiness and helpfulness and the occasional pout over a scraped knee.

The young brunette tried to voice her thoughts, but her tongue was heavy in her mouth and all she could form was a small sob. Frustrated at herself and embarrassed for Robin, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. She waited a few moments, green eyes locked on a patch of ruined carpet before she tried again. “I have a Neverland,” she found herself saying. In a way, Neverland and home were exactly the same to her. In a way, home was not a place, but a person. “I can feel it. And every time I look…” She shook her head. “S’hard to find the second star when the skies are so cloudy.”

[Robin Little]

Robin had no idea what Emerson was talking about.

The question had been uttered to open up a free and easy course of conversation, but the girl had suffered some kind of emotional breakdown. She was lost in her own world, her words uttered in a context that Robin was not privy to. The response, to Robin, sounded like an analogy for Emerson’s memory loss; her past was her Neverland, and every time she looked for it, she couldn’t see through the clouds. But if that was the case, how did she know it was a Neverland? Was it a feeling she had? What if her past was no Neverland, but was instead filled with horror? Like she’d never made it to Neverland. Some children were never given a childhood. Some children were forced into adult responsibility before their time.

The most Robin could do was reach out and rub the back of Emerson’s shoulder as she was hunched over her knees. He was trying for something comforting, though his mind was whirring a million miles an hour. Crying women. He had no idea what to do with crying women. He didn’t know whether they should sit there, and whether he should wait for Emerson’s episode to pass, or whether he should take the book from her head and buy it for her so they could get the hell out of the shop as quick as possible.

”I’m sorry, Em. At least we know the bookshop is a trigger now, huh?” he asked. Was that the right thing to say? Was this even a trigger, or was there something else going on? Robin had absolutely no experience with any of this. Except for the Neverland in one’s own head. He was a fan of escaping into other worlds, creating characters that were outside of reality. It was a kind of Neverland. It was a world that didn’t really exist.

”Or well. I mean, is it? I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Do you want to just stay here for a while? Read? Or do you want to get out of here?” he asked. Simply talking **** hadn’t helped, and rather than try to figure it out on his own, it was better to ask. It was for Emerson’s wellbeing, and only Emerson could know, in this moment, what was best for her own wellbeing.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

One of the best ways to calm Emerson down was through physical contact. Much like a child, being held in someone’s arms or cuddled with a warm blanket were instant soothers for her. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it as to why they helped, but if she had to guess, it was probably because they made her feel safe and secure and grounded when everything else was slipping through her fingertips like water. Although advice could be reassuring, the girl recognized that, much like herself, not everyone was good at speaking. She felt that actions spoke at much greater volumes than words did, and even though she flinched when she felt Robin’s hand on her shoulder, she appreciated the gesture. After all, the male had only just met her and she was a bubbling, shaking mess on the floor of the kid’s section - the kid’s section - of a bookstore. Totally not the first impression she was going for, but it’d happened, and she’d have to accept it at some point or another. Sooner was better than later.

When Robin started to apologize, Emerson shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet, but she was able to slowly unravel her fingers from the fists they were so tightly held in. “No, I’m sorry. I’m the one-” She hiccuped suddenly before she continued, “-who’s like this.” The brunette gestured to herself loosely, her hand succeeding in not shaking too noticeably. “And, no, not the bookstore. Specifically.” The more time that passed, the more Emerson was forced to talk, the better she began to feel. She took in a long, fresh gulp of air. “People,” she explained. “Lots of them, looking at me...” She tried to push away the thought of how many people would be waiting for her once she finally decided to leave the temporary safe space. “Picking me apart.”

Emerson was quiet as she weighed her options. If she were to leave, it would mean having to pass by all the people who had seen her ‘episode.’ If those said people were the concerned type, they would ask questions that the girl wouldn’t be able to handle - let alone answer. Even if they didn’t ask her questions, she’d have to interact with the cashier. It was something she did every day at the cafes, and from time to time at the small shops, but those were familiar people and the process was quick. On the other hand, if she were to stay, time would drag on. The later it got, the closer it would be to closing hours, and there would be far fewer people in the building than there once were. That seemed like the better choice of the two. It gave Emerson time to relax and clear her head.

“If y'don’t have anywhere to go, could we stay?” she asked. Of course, if she was interfering with Robin’s schedule, she’d suck it up the best she could and be out the door with him. “If not…” Emerson glanced down at the copy of Coraline in her hands. She wasn’t sure how fast of a reader she was, and even though the text was small, the book was thin. She’d rather start reading it after it was purchased. Instead, her eyes fell onto the copy of Peter Pan that Robin still held. “Can we read for a little bit?”

[Robin Little]

Robin opened his mouth to reassure Emerson, to tell her that people weren’t picking her apart. But what did he know? Maybe they were. Maybe they were picking him apart, too. That’s all people did, these days. They looked, and they judged. They took in the appearance of others, their clothes, their demeanour, their height or their width, and they judged without ever having spoken to that person. And who was Robin to fob Emerson’s reaction off as unnecessary or unrequired? Different people reacted to their situations in different ways. And even as he sat there, trying to put himself in Emerson’s shoes, Robin started to wonder what they all thought of him, too.

It was fleeting. Caring what others thought wasn’t generally on Robin’s mind. But it was enough of a sensation to understand where Emerson was coming from, enough to allow him to nod and slip into a more comfortable position. So long as they made a purchase later, the bookshop clerks couldn’t complain if they sat there to read, could they?

Robin was sure that he already owned a copy of Peter Pan, somewhere. But this was a nice version, and it was different to the one that he owned. He wasn’t sure how happy they’d be if he and Emerson were to read the book that they didn’t intend to purchase. Knowing Robin’s luck, he’d crack the spine or bend the cover’s corner. At least he didn’t have a drink he could spill. He knew better than to bring any food or beverages into any retail store.

”We can read,” he said. Even now, one of the clerks gave him a curious look; it was one of the girls who knew him as a regular. The look on her face was inquisitive, concern for Robin’s companion. A silent question, as to whether there was anything she could do to help. Robin just smiled and subtly shook his head. The girl shrugged and wandered off.

”You want to read this?” he asked, holding Peter Pan up. ”Do you want to read it, or do you want me to read it…?” he asked. Clearly the time he had spent in Emerson’s shoes was fleeting; he had absolutely no shame, and would read out loud. He didn’t care who listened.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson noticed Robin’s shift in attention before she noticed the nearby clerk. A green gaze moved to find a girl who was just turning on her heel and disappearing behind a bookshelf. It made Emerson frown only slightly. A glimpse of a name tag had been caught before the other woman’s departure, so it would’ve made sense for an employee to be walking around the store. She was probably only checking on which shelves needed to be restocked and how many customers were remaining before it was time to close up shop. She probably wasn’t looking just for Emerson. She probably wasn’t judging her more than she already had - a girl who had a meltdown and was now in the children’s corner? Right. The possibility of it all was enough to make the brunette shrink into herself.

There was a bit of hesitation as Emerson glanced between the book and Robin. It was weird. Right? It was weird for an eighteen-year-old to want to be read a book. To want to be read a picture book. To color pictures. To want to not ever grow up and be an adult and have responsibilities. She was weird. There was something off about her - there had to be. Her frown grew as she internally battled with herself, and then it shrank away. Who cared? She didn’t. Not really. Not unless someone was seeing her behavior as being something negative. And why would they? She wasn’t hurting anyone. She was being herself. She liked what she liked and no one could change that and she didn’t have to care a single bit. There was no one to care but Robin, anyways. Emerson didn’t think he would. She hoped he wouldn’t.

“Could you read it?” she asked, followed by a quick, “Please? Thank you?” Emerson's legs stretched out in front of her momentarily before her weight was shifted and she was sitting ‘criss-cross-applesauce’ with her hands in her lap. She was feeling better, definitely. The long breath she took in and let out was refreshing. “If you don’t make voices for all the different characters, I’ll…” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “I’ll- I’ll bite you,” she finally decided, expression contorting to a relaxed, happy one as she let out the first giggle since she’d entered the bookstore. The threat was a loose one, but in context, it made some sort of sense. “No, s’okay. Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” Emerson reassured him, fingers curling around a piece of loose thread at the hem of her sweater.

[Robin Little]

Robin laughed as he, too, stretched out his legs. He opened the book to the first page. He glanced down at the girl at his side and shook his head.

”I’m not sure how much you know about my job, but biting me isn’t a threat,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t a good idea for other vampires. Once or twice, maybe, but make a habit of it? They’d never be able to feed from humans again. He’d heard from his customers that it could be a blessing, not having to feed from humans. It took some of the risk out of the feeding game. But feeding from vampires wasn’t that much better, especially when they had no one they could trust to help them out. There were plenty of things that went wrong in this life, and finding good loyal people to always have your back seemed to be one of the most prominent issues – one that Robin himself had suffered from, often enough, though he’d never realised it at the time. Only looking back did he realise that no one ever stayed – and that maybe, inherently, that’s what was wrong with him. Ever since his childhood, well. He thought it was just human nature. They weren’t built to live in pairs, they were built to live alone.

Not that this was anything he’d discuss philosophically with Maddison. He had a feeling she wouldn’t take it very well. Though he wasn’t considering bringing up any kind of philosophy that he himself wasn’t sure of. He was no psychologist, and maybe there was nothing wrong with him at all! Laughable, really. Robin had issues. He just had yet to acknowledge them.

Clearing his throat, Robin started.

”All children, except one, grow up…” He smiled. This story was one of his favourites and he had only to read that first sentence to remember why, to sink so easily into the story. This too, could be the reason Robin failed at life. He’d failed to grow up, not properly. He did plenty of grown-up things, but mentally he remained stunted.

He continued the story, reading – even with the voices – as Emerson requested, and despite any odd looks they got. In fact, they didn’t get too many odd looks. Some stopped to listen. One parent even reached past Robin to get a copy of Peter Pan to buy for themselves, to read to their own kids at bed time. Robin just smiled and kept going, and would keep going until either Emerson told him he could stop, or they got kicked out of the bookshop.