As usual, Ross walked into Pete’s Record Store around 4:30 Saturday afternoon after his shift at the Bookmark ended. He was hoping he was going to see Amy, but he knew his wish was futile. He habitually looked behind the counter as he opened the door, expecting to see Amy sitting there. Instead it was Pete. That musty sixties scent inflamed his nose after the door shut behind him, faintly familiar of the used books he had just left. He didn’t particularly care for the smell of vinyl, but she had.
Pete looked up from his Rolling Stone magazine and asked, “Can I help you find somethin’, Ross?”
“No, thanks,” Ross said. He walked through the aisles of records, pretending to be interested in buying one. He didn’t have a record player, so he couldn’t actually play them, but they reminded him of her, and that’s what he liked about them. He made a quick circle of the small store, fingered through a couple CDs he already had, and left feeling Pete momentarily raise his eyes to watch him leave.
He knew she wouldn’t be there. He knew he was inevitably disappointing himself, torturing himself. But old habits are hard to break even when you know they’ve changed indefinitely. It was almost comforting, to pretend that she would be there, hoping that maybe, one day after his shift was over, that reality wouldn’t be true for a minute and he would see her behind the counter.

“Did you stop by Pete’s again?” Ross’s father asked when he walked in the door.
Ross waited a second before saying, “Yeah.”
“Stop. It’s not good for you to go in there.” His Dad broke his gaze with his son to look at an empty spot on the mantle, where a picture of his wife had previously sat.
“I can’t not go in there when I work right next to the place.” Ross said, quickly glancing where his father had just looked.
“I want you to come straight home after work from now on.”
Ross ignored his Dad’s last statement and went upstairs. Unsympathetic asshole, he thought. He fell into his bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, before deciding that homework was an unfortunate must, since he missed his last AP English paper deadline.
Dinner was silent. Ross and his dad focused on their chicken while Ross’s younger brother looked at baseball stats, undeterred by the awkwardness. Ross kept glancing from his Dad’s face to his brother’s magazine. His quiet patriarchal household pulled him far away from any connection he felt he could have to the human race, especially now that Amy was gone.
Back in his room, Ross read After Many a Summer Dies the Swan as therapy. His Dad was downstairs, watching mindless television while sipping a Guinness. His brother pretended to do homework on the computer. Ross checked his cell phone arbitrarily, unconsciously, the screen blank except for the blue background. All it told him was the time. He felt that hole underneath his sternum stretch just a little more every time he opened his phone. Nothing. Empty.

The next day at school was the same as it had been for the past two weeks. Ross felt more like an observer than a student. He couldn’t believe these people could laugh as much as they did. He wondered if they had any perspective whatsoever on life. He wondered if they ever thought about how impermanent they were, how severely mortal.
Some of his friends congregated around his locker. They were buzzing about Brad’s new girlfriend, wanting Ross’s input, but he just shrugged them off. He heard their insulted comments whisper after him as he turned to walk toward AP English. His paper was actually finished this time, but it had no emotion. He would be presenting pointless words on a useless topic. His friends called after him, but he ignored them.

Ross looks at Amy as they sit on a tiny stage, both playing guitar and singing in harmony into microphones:
“But when the sun breaks
To no more bulletin battle-cry
When will you make a grave
For I will be home then...”
She smiles at him while they sing. She looks away to observe their audience of coffee shop goers, but he continues to look at her as she happily relays their music.

“Ross can I see you after class?” Mrs. White ripped him out of his memory. It was like coming up for air after diving 12 feet under water. The sky was clouded until he surfaced into reality and remembered that he was sitting in English class.
“Yeah,” he said.
Ross approached Mrs. White’s desk as the last student left class. He waited for her to speak, avoiding eye contact with her.
“Ross, I know you’ve been struggling lately, but I need your first paper on Hamlet as soon as possible. I don’t want to fail you on it, but I think I’ve given you enough of an extension already.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve been working on it. I can get it to you by the end of the week.” Still somewhat dazed from his daydream, he wasn’t completely conscious of what he was saying. He stared at the chalkboard.
“That would be good,” Mrs. White said. “Ross, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
He forced his head to move from the chalkboard to her face. “Thanks,” he said.

His mind haunted him all the time. Morbid thoughts constantly tracked through his brain. How could the absence of two people in his life trigger such horrible transmissions? When he was conscious, he thought about Amy, when he was asleep, he dreamt about his Mom. Sometimes it was the inverse. In either state he could never escape their presence, though they weren’t actually there. They lived inside him, in his mind. He was constantly reminded of their fate.
Work was easily the most relief. Books were quiet. Books were like good friends. Books couldn’t die. The Bookmark was his solace and his boss let him read whenever there wasn’t a customer around, or some other pressing business issue. Work was simple, and the mindless tasks and static flow of people occupied his brain with enough distraction that the pain would subside for a few hours. The lined walls of books helped to soundproof his ever-active mind.
He went to Pete’s again after work. Of course no Amy. Are you going to accept this any time soon? he asked himself. Pete nodded at him as he walked in. Ross went down the same aisles with the same music. Today he couldn’t afford to linger because of his Dad.
“Hey Ross, I have somethin’ for ya,” Pete said from across the room.
Ross perked up. “What is it?” He walked over to the counter.
Pete handed him an application. “Since I got a position open I was wonderin’ if you wanted it since you come in here all the time anyway,” he said.
Oh God, Ross thought. Goddamn you Pete.
“No thanks, Pete,” Ross said and quickly left without taking the application. He stopped in the middle of the parking lot, turned around and stared at the entrance to Pete’s. He took two steps back towards the door but stopped again when he saw Pete walking down the aisles. Ross froze, the soles of his feet seemingly bolted to the pavement. It felt as though the inside of his chest was filling with tar. He let the tension build until he decided to pull his feet from the blacktop and ran back towards his car. He felt hot tears drip off his chin as he shuffled with his keys to get them into the ignition. He let them drop to the floor when he kept missing because he couldn’t see. He cried for the first time since Amy’s funeral. And even then he had had more control over himself. He set his forehead on the steering wheel. The cool plastic felt good on his skin.
Ross knew Pete was only trying to help. Help, it did not. He couldn’t possibly take Amy’s place at the store. To have her live inside of him was one thing, but to live what she lived after she was gone? He couldn’t possibly take her place – literally.
He sped home so his dad wouldn’t get suspicious, and got home just in time to avoid a fantastic scolding. He went to his room immediately, but his brother caught a glimpse of his face in enough light to see that it was red.
“Dude, have you been crying?” William asked.
“No,” Ross said.
“Did you go to Pete’s again?”
“Shut up.”
“You really think that’s going to help you get over this? Dad’s right, you gotta stay away from there or you’re going to drive yourself crazy.”
“I can’t. I can’t help it.”
“You gotta stop. Going to Pete’s won’t bring Amy back just like going to the hospital won’t bring Mom back.”
“Shut up.” Ross shut his door in William’s face.
Ross fell into his bed, only this time he didn’t do his homework or go to dinner, nor did he finish his book. His Hamlet paper would not be getting done on time. It wasn’t getting turned in. He knew Mrs. White would be disappointed, but he didn’t care. He let the clotted feeling in his chest take precedence. He pretended to sleep until he found himself dreaming of Amy.
He woke up at 4:00 in the morning. He found his stomach screaming for food, so he ransacked the fridge. Dad had fallen asleep in the chair in front of the TV, two Guinnesses standing between his legs. Quiet as hell, Ross took his food outside to the porch.
As he sat on the front step, he wondered if his Dad was right. Should he be pushing away everything that reminded him of Amy? That’s what his family had done with his Mom, and look where that had gotten them. Three separate worlds orbiting around each other, perfectly spaced so they wouldn’t come into contact. How could that be right? Were they supposed to spend the rest of their lives co-existing alone?

School was unpleasant the next day. In some classes Ross found himself entirely awake, and at others, almost unconscious. Very few people spoke to him, and when they did, it was the usual homework this, drama that. None of that really mattered to Ross. He just didn’t care. Mrs. White gave him expectant looks during English class, but he evaded her contact and rushed out of class without saying anything to her.
He couldn’t read at work that day. Apart from being so tired, all he could think about was how little he cared for everything. He was having a hard time feeling like a person. How was he supposed to return to normal? Was it possible? He could hardly tell that it was his hand that scanned the books or gave back change. It was his voice that greeted customers and told them to “Have a nice day.” He wasn’t sure what constituted a nice day anymore.
Once again, he found himself at Pete’s, but Pete wasn’t there. Some girl was sitting in Pete’s chair, formerly occupied by Amy.
She said, “Hi. Can I help you find something?”
Ross paused for a second, not sure what to think. “Um, I should be fine.” He slowly walked towards the aisle he usually lingered in. He positioned himself just so the girl in the chair was out of sight. What was happening? Pete found a replacement already? How was he supposed to walk into Pete’s to see this random girl in Amy’s stead? He stared at the records. Just stared. His mind buzzed with nothing.
“That is an excellent record,” he heard a voice near him say.
“What?” Ross said.
“The one you’re staring at.” Ross looked down at a record that he was holding. He didn’t remember picking it up. It was white, with a huge and colorful label. The title: “A Night At The Opera” by Queen.
“Do you wanna buy it?” the girl asked.
“Probably not,” Ross said, trying to return the record to the “Q” section.
“I would recommend it. It was their most popular album, and all the songs on there are really good. This one’s my favorite.” The girl gently took the album from Ross, flipped it over, and pointed to a song called “Good Company.” She handed the record back to him.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” she said before walking away.
Ross stared at the back cover for a bit, before opening the album. He recognized “Bohemian Rhapsody” from side 2, and the song the girl had pointed at was just above it. He read through the lyrics. The refrain said: “Take care of those you call your own and keep good company.” He looked back to the front counter to see the girl flipping through a magazine. Amy would just listen to the music on the speakers when she had nothing to do. Just listen to the music.
He held the record for a few moments longer, and then brought it up to the front desk. The girl shoved the magazine to the side as he silently handed the record to her. He was looking everywhere but her face as he took the change and denied needing a bag. He turned to leave, almost out the door, when he turned and slowly said, “Is there any way I could play this here? I don’t have a record player at home.”
“Sure thing. We’ve got a little room in the back. Follow me.”
Ross followed her to the back of the store, to a room just large enough to fit a stereo and a chair. The girl switched the light on and turned on the stereo system. She handed Ross a pair of headphones that she plugged in.
“You wanna listen to the whole thing?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Ok. This machine automatically flips the record when the first side is done, so you don’t have to do anything.”
“Thanks.”
She put the record on, and put the needle to the spinning LP, adjusting her body so Ross could sit in the sole chair. When he was seated, she left and softly shut the door behind her.
Ross listened. It sounded just like Amy. It was as if she were speaking to him through this record. He didn’t particularly believe in Fate, or that spirits could communicate with him, but he felt her presence there, in that record. He closed his eyes and imagined her face smiling at him. She would be so proud that he was listening to a record. He scanned the album cover again, reading the lyrics as they came along. “You’re My Best Friend” was the fourth song on side one.
The first side ended and shortly the second side started. “Love of my Life” was right before “Good Company.” Seriously? he thought. It was like he was meant to hear this, now, after she was gone. It was like Queen knew he would need this album his senior year of high school. It was like Amy put it in the store for him to pick up after she died. A piece of Amy left behind for him to find.
He finished listening and gently put the LP back in its sleeve. He took off his headphones and left the little room. As he walked towards the entrance, the girl looked up from her magazine and asked him if he liked it. He looked at her, tenderly hugged the record to his chest, and said, “You have no idea.”