Her Name Was December

Day 9

On December 27th, Greyson walked through the door and stopped in his tracks, staring at the empty table diagonal to the checkout counter. When he saw the seat was unoccupied, he was almost shocked, and more disappointed than he’d like to admit.

“I know.” Emily said, bringing Greyson out of his head. “Isn’t it weird not having her here?” she asked, rummaging around in her purse.

Greyson let the door shut closely, the frigid air making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He nodded, walking to the edge of the counter and gripping it tightly.

Emily shrugged. “I say good riddance. That girl was so… weird.” She spat the word out like a curse. Greyson didn’t say anything. He stood there, clutching the counter as Emily packed up her things to leave. She sent him a quick ‘seeya’ and strutted out the door.

When the door shut behind her, the absence of the cool winter wind and cars breezing past filled the shop with an unusual silence. The store was almost always quiet, but without December’s familiar foot tapping, even breathing, and pen scribbling, the shop seemed especially and almost uncomfortably empty. 

Greyson made his way behind the counter and tapped his fingers against the old wood. His gaze caught the stack of colorful puzzle books next the counter, and guilt washed over him. His grandmother had called him from Florida and asked how he was doing on the puzzles. She wouldn’t be pleased to hear that he had only finished a few in each book, so that’s why he lied. The bluff may have saved him from the wrath of Grandma Dorian, but telling her they were all finished probably wasn’t the best idea. He eyed the crossword on the cover of the top book and guilt caused him to quickly reach over to grab it, along with a pencil. Flipping to the page of the first plank crossword, he tried his best to keep his mind from drifting to December.

9 Across: To examine. (7 letters)

Greyson tapped the pencil against his chin. This was the first time in his life since school that he had ever wished for a thesaurus. Words were breezing through his head, but none seemed to fit the bill. It felt just like one of those moments where you’re trying to remember something important, but your mind goes completely blank. Greyson hated that feeling. So instead, his thoughts shifted to her. 

Why isn’t she here? he thought. Was it something I said?

He ran through their conversation in his head, searching for what he could have said to upset her. What could have kept her from showing up today. His insides twisted in paranoia, and he tried desperately to reassure himself. Maybe she’s just late. he thought. She’ll come in later.

He went back to work on his crossword, trying his hardest to distract himself from all the anxious thoughts swirling through his mind.

To examine... he thought to himself. Seven letters. 

Without fail, the word reminded him of December. (Of course.) He thought of her bringing her face close to the book and her eyes speeding back and forth across the pages. It was almost as if she were inspecting it, reading for a few minutes and filling another line in her journal of notes sprawled out in black ink.

Greyson smiled in realization. Inspect, he wrote. His writing was shaky print, much less glamourous than December’s flowing cursive script.

Next. 

His eyes skimmed the page, searching for the easiest clue possible

18 Across: Needing food. (6 letters)

It was almost embarrassingly easy. Hungry, he wrote, filling in the small boxes with the neatest handwriting he could muster. His face fell. Wait. Is it hunger, or hungry? he thought. Ah, fuck it. he decided, moving on to the next clue.

He spent hours like that, filling a kid’s activity book, picking the questions from easiest to hardest in an empty bookstore. In the back of his mind, he was waiting for the moment when December would walk through the door in all of her mysterious glory. Eventually, the sun started to the set and it became 7:30.

She never showed.