When she turned twelve, Lucy changed her name to Luci. Then, at fourteen, she added the little heart over the letter I. But now at sixteen, she was starting to worry that the name itself was a little … frivolous. Not that she condemned anyone else who liked being frivolous, and she certainly thought of herself as being fun. She totally cheered for school teams, painted her toes in bright pinks, and — since she’d started wearing one two years ago — always made sure her bra matched her underwear.
Still, she was about to enter her last year of high school — after she got through this spring and summer, but still, soon — and maybe Luci-with-a-heart-over-the-I just wasn’t her anymore. Unfortunately, when in search of a more serious moniker, she’d asked her mom what Luci was short for, or who she’d been named after. Her mom hadn’t had any interesting answers — except that Luci could change her name after she turned eighteen and at her own expense.
Thus foiled, she was forced to sign her most recent love note Luci-with-a-little-heart-over-the-I even though it conflicted with the serious tenor of the message.
How do I love thee? Let me count the —
Her pink sparkle pencil slid with a smooth sort of grip across the register tape. Luci always liked writing in pencil. Not that she ever had to erase anything, but because she liked the sound of it. The register tape, pilfered from the register of the card shop where she worked, was streaked with red, though in some other stores those warning lines were streaks of green or blue. They let the cashier know when the tape had to be changed. And since the end bits were unenvironmentally thrown out, Luci had no issue with using the neat little rolls to pass love notes. Or, much more specifically, to carry a bit of her heart and poetry to her boyfriend Colby. When starting one of these notes — as she just had — she always made sure to draw the O in Colby’s name as a heart as well. She was really big on symmetry.
Luci had gotten the job at the card shop after the Christmas holidays. She would have preferred working at the Body Shop or Lush, but they hadn’t been looking for anyone when she was looking for a bit of cash. She was lucky the card shop had been hiring. Their regular part-timer had taken off to travel for a year. Having an extra excuse to be out of the house on Thursdays from five to nine and Sundays from one to five was a bonus for Luci. Sundays, according to her stepfather, were supposed to be family days.
Years ago, she’d been the one who rubbed garlic powder all over the roast and made the gravy, but now she was a vegetarian. Well, she’d eat chicken if it was free range and fish if it was certified Ocean Wise. But other than that, no meat. Despite her stepfather’s insistence, this no-meat policy wasn’t simply an ongoing attempt to piss him off, but rather the result of recently viewing a bunch of documentaries that had really grossed Luci and her friends out. That it pissed off her stepdad was a bonus.
Anyway, the card shop carried cool gift things, including great recycled-paper bags and pencils. Her latest sparkly pink pencil had a fluffy hair poof attached to the end where the eraser usually was. Luci had done her nails during study period today in sparkly pink to match this pretty pencil. But then she’d worn her wristwatch wrist warmers — hand knitted on request by her grandmother — to add an ironic touch to the ensemble. She liked that none of the sewn-on watches — there were three different faces on each warmer — displayed the same time.
Currently the shop was dead, as it usually was on Thursday nights. Luci had her fifteen-minute break, along with a fruit-and-nut chocolate bar and a root beer — her latest favorite combo — before the owner went home for the evening at six. She didn’t mind closing by herself. She liked the responsibility and the bits of organization that came with the task.
As she paused to assess the wording of the love note — she was attempting to personalize the famous Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem with her own list — a woman wearing Lululemon as a style choice, not just workout clothing, rushed into the store. She was laden with multiple packages and carrying a large bouquet of white lilies. At a quick glance, based on logos and thicknesses, Luci estimated the woman was carrying close to eight hundred and eighty dollars in her paper bags. She stopped midstore and looked about frantically.
“I need … I must have a card for a funeral. Or not a funeral … a prefuneral. A card for the actual event of a death,” the woman said.
Now, the store was pretty simply laid out and the woman hadn’t even taken a moment to look around, but Luci — dutifully — glanced up from her note and gestured to a bank of cards about halfway back along the western wall.
“Bereavement cards. Past the thank-yous, but before the birthdays,” she said. The woman bustled farther into the shop, following her instructions.
As she returned to adding more hearts to her note, Luci recognized the woman as Vanessa, a vague friend of her mother’s. Probably from a Zumba class.
Vanessa spared a couple of seconds to peer at the indicated section, but hesitated to pick out a card. Luci was always amazed at how people made a big deal out of such simple things. She had long ago decided it was because everyone wanted to feel more important than they actually were. They therefore infused their card selection with that performance pressure. Even thus personally forewarned, she waited until Vanessa actually spoke before offering to help.
“But … but which one is the most popular one?”
Luci abandoned her note with a bit of a sigh, but she was actually always happy to help pick out cards.
Crossing around the counter and deeper into the store, she reached by Vanessa’s elbow and picked out a light blue card from the wall. Vanessa opened and read the proffered sample.