Shannon Garvey - This Side of Paradise

 

So, the August before my senior year of college, when others in my program of study were applying to medical school or interning in cognition labs, I was working as a barista at a bookstore cafe. I was eight months away from graduating with a degree in neuroscience and behavior. But I had this secret I didn't know what to do with. I wanted to be a writer. 

 

So, I was spending all my time at the bookstore, even when I wasn't working. I was getting introduced to the music of Leonard Cohen. Somebody lent me their copy of Just Kids by Patti Smith. People were saying things in earnest around me like, “You've got to read the Russians. And do you want to join Our Ulysses book group?” I was wearing all these little corduroy skirts and tights with holes in them and black turtlenecks, and I even got bangs. [audience laughter] And it was all just so romantic to me, every moment, every cappuccino I made, every book that I scanned, and every conversation that I was now a part of. 

 

But I was 21, and I was really freaked out about this double life. You know, who was I to want to be a writer? I thought. What did I really think that I had to say? And beyond that, I didn't really understand the logistics of this being a writer business. Like, how does one make money? And how long could I realistically work at this cafe? What was going to happen after I graduated? I was worried that all these things I was feeling at the bookstore were going to disappear like a mirage once my bangs grew out and everyone realized I was an imposter. 

 

So, I was looking for a sign, and I was looking for a push, and I was looking for them everywhere. So, one night, I'm working. It's pretty dead. I'm studying for a chemistry exam, carbon structures. And I got bored of this, and I put that away, and I took out the essay I had been reading earlier by F. Scott Fitzgerald, who at the time was my favorite author. 

 

So, I'm reading, I'm making notes in the margins, when an older gentleman walks in, and he's standing by the door, kind of flustered, muttering under his breath. And I'm sort of bracing myself for a negative interaction when he looks up at me and he grins, and he takes these two bounding steps forward and says in this really dramatic way, “Never get old, Miss. What are you reading there?” I said, “Fitzgerald.” And I mentioned he was my favorite author. And his eyes light up and you. And he says, “Fitzgerald, yes, but who was his wife?” And I say, “Zelda.” And he says, “Yes, Zelda. And they met at a dance.” 

 

So, we went back and forth about Fitzgerald and writing for a little while, and the whole experience was really wholesome. And he mentioned that he had some pretty old books at home and maybe he'd bring them by sometime for me to look at. So, I get him his green tea and his cookie. He goes off to enjoy. I didn't even really notice him leave. But a couple hours later, I'm closing up the bookstore, mopping the counter, and the door opens, and he's back, much the same way, by the door, but this time he has something in his hands, and it's a little book wrapped in plastic. So, he walks up to the counter and he opens it and he points to the first page and puts the book in my hand. It was a second edition copy of This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which was his first published novel, and it was signed. 

 

So, I'm holding this piece of literary history in my hands and I'm looking at the signature and it looks so normal and crazy. And I'm just thanking him for bringing it by and I go to give it back to him, but he's taken two steps away from me and he says that he wants me to have the book. And I am sputtering. I'm saying, “No, no. There's no possible way I can accept this.” At the time, I had no idea what something like that could be worth, but I knew for certain it was much, much more than anything that I owned. And he kind of stops me and he says that he was a teacher for a really long time and my passion and enthusiasm for Fitzgerald reminded him of the enthusiasm from his students that really made it worth it for him and it just really brought a lot of light to his life. 

 

So, I try to give the back book back one more time. He doesn't accept and he leaves kind of abruptly and I never saw him again. So, I took the book as the sign that I needed. It has followed me between run down apartments, sat on the shelf while I've eaten Clif bars for dinner and worked odd jobs to sustain writing time. 

 

Some of that old romance is definitely gone. I'll never get bangs again or be as excited about cleaning tables or mopping floors. It's not always paradise, but things feel much better on this side of it pursuing a passion. Thank you.