We Are Inevitable by Gayle Forman (read aloud txt) 📕

When I open the door, it’s like I’ve stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia. The store is unrecognizable. The shelves have been patched and repaired. The floors are leveled, the planks sanded and varnished. The Sheetrock plastered, primed, and painted. There’s now a small area by the café with two bistro tables. And a new sofa in the corner where Ira’s armchair once lived. In the back of the store is a freshly oiled butcher-block counter with Gaga situated in the middle like a queen. Next to her, a case full of Angelica Silvestri’s pastries, and beneath that, a minifridge with yogurts and juices. Next to the front counter, where I usually sit, is a brand-new computer, the browser page open to a website that reads BLUEBIRD BOOKS & CAFÉ.

“He’s back!” Chad shouts.

And then everyone—Ira, Bev, Ike, Richie, Garry, Jax, Angela Silvestri, and an older woman with a walker who I recognize as Beana—all turn to me. “Surprise!” they shout. As if it’s my birthday. As if, like the store itself, this is a gift I want.

Ira bounds up, coffee-cake crumbs clinging to his beard. “Can you believe it?”

No. I can’t. I shake my head.

“When we heard you were with Hannah,” Chad says, throwing a glance at Jax, “we figured you’d be together till she left and we wanted to have it all ready.”

“It was Penny who gave us the idea,” Ira says.

“Penny?” I croak.

“When she asked about our opening, we realized we should try to be ready for the holiday season,” Ira explains. “We went on a spree and now we’re aiming for Black Friday. All we have to do is let things dry and put out the books, but Chad’s nearly finished organizing them all.”

“A spree?” I ask, my head spinning.

“And now we were thinking,” Ike continues, “we ought to have a grand reopening around the holidays. Like maybe get some Seattle authors to come up. Have a party. With music, even.” He looks at Jax.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to Hannah,” they say. “We can play an acoustic set.”

“What do you think?” Chad asks. “Do you love it?”

I can’t answer. I’m buried under a house of bricks, suffocating from all my lies.

“How?” is all I can manage to ask.

How did I let it go this far? How do I wreck everything I touch? How do I keep hurting the people I love?

“Easy,” Chad replies. “Teamwork. And a little bit of cash.”

“How much cash?” I ask.

Chad shrugs. “A few grand. But it’s an investment, not a loan.”

“Is that why you withdrew all the money from your bank account?”

“Yeah,” Chad says. “Wait, how’d you know about that?”

“What about the Stim?”

Chad looks sheepish. “I backed out of the Stim.”

“What? Why?”

“I changed my mind.”

“What about your deposit?”

Chad shrugs. “I lost it.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“My priorities changed.”

“Chad, you shouldn’t have done that!”

“I thought you of all people would be glad.”

Penny was right. Chad emptied his bank account for the store. And he backed out of the Stim. To invest in the store. To think I warned Chad about being scammed by Frederic. I should have warned him about being scammed by me.

“I know I should’ve checked with you,” Ira says a bit bashfully. “But we wanted to surprise you. After everything you’ve done, we wanted this for you.”

“Everything I’ve done?” I scoff. “You have no idea what I’ve done.”

“Of course I do,” Ira says, smiling. “We all do.”

“No. You don’t. Because what I’ve done is sell the store.”

Ira’s still smiling, as if he doesn’t or can’t comprehend what I just said. So I repeat it. “I sold the store. To Penny Macklemore.”

“No,” Ira says. “You’d never do that.”

“I would and I did, Ira.”

“But you love the store,” Ira insists. “You love books.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t even read anymore. This place has made me hate books. And I used to love books. I used to think they were miracles like you do. But now they make me sick, like strawberries do.”

When I mention strawberries, Ira’s face goes white. His lips form a fish shape. “You don’t want the store?” he asks in a tattered voice.

“No,” I say. “I never did. And that’s why I sold it to Penny.”

“Buy it back,” Chad says.

“I can’t. And I don’t want to.”

“When did you do this?” Ira asks.

“After the shelf broke. When I found your credit-card stash and it was just so obvious, it’s been so obvious for so long, that it wasn’t coming back. And I just wanted it to end. Because the waiting for it to end . . . I can’t go through that again.”

I spin around, jabbing a prosecutorial finger at Chad. “And then you showed up with your ramp idea.” I swivel toward Ike. “And then you built a better ramp. I kept telling you to stop but you went ahead anyway and then you brought the paint and then you . . .” I pivot back to Chad. “Built your database and started talking about partnerships and it got Ira’s hopes up . . .” I turn back to Ira. “And you were so happy. I haven’t seen you like that since Sandy died, since Mom left . . .” My voice breaks again but I push through. “And I thought, maybe I could change Penny’s mind, get the store fixed up, to how it used to be, and you could take it over. I tried to back out. I tried. So many ways. But it didn’t work. Because it can’t work. Because there’s no coming back from extinction. Can’t you see? We’re dinosaurs. The asteroid has hit. It’s time we accept that and move on.”

Ira sinks onto his haunches, eyes bulging, the panic returning as the room erupts into pandemonium, everyone yelling at once. Ike is shouting about selling the store. Garry and Richie are shouting about all the work they did. Angela is shouting about whether or not her crumb cake is needed. Beana and Bev are shouting for everyone to stop shouting.

My head is spinning and my heart is racing and my ears