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Somerville, Massachusetts. Right next to Harvard. Too many people for Todd’s taste, but without the people, he wouldn’t be able to sit in his apartment above the bookshop every evening, nestled comfortably in a squishy armchair and reading a book. That was what he did now, lit by the soft yellow glow of a reading light. In the few weeks his bookstore had been open, he’d managed to avoid having to meet his new business neighbors. However, he was beginning to realize a proper introduction was far overdue. Todd wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with the guy who owned the record store next door blasting music at unholy hours of the night. Todd checked his watch, looked out the window at the black and starless sky, and groaned. He closed his book and his eyes, trying to tune out the melody resonating through the walls.
All he ever did was play musicals. Mr. Keating, the strange man in the trenchcoat who frequented both his bookstore and the record shop, had told him with a knowing smile the week before that Mr. Perry had been playing Fiddler on the Roof nearly every day since it came out last year. Neil Perry. Todd had yet to put the name to a face, though Mr. Keating spoke rather fondly of him every time he came in, insisting that the two would get along splendidly. Todd, an expert at going unnoticed (except, apparently, by this Keating character, who seemed to have taken a special interest in him), always made sure to close up shop before Mr. Perry, ensuring he would be gone by the time he stopped in for a visit. Still, he’d found a record of the musical Oh, Captain! slipped under his door when he woke up the day after opening. A note was attached.
Congratulations on your opening! I own Rambling Records, so have a housewarming gift. Hope to meet you soon!
-Neil next door
Keating always left with a poetry book or two under his arm, rambling excitedly about how happy he was to see a bookstore open up in town and how glad he was there was somebody who appreciated literature. “Been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to preach the scripture to bright young minds such as yourself,” he’d told Todd, slapping the cover of Leaves of Grass .
“You taught?” Todd had softly responded.
“In the classroom? For a while, yes. School board didn’t want me spearheading a revolution with recruits from among their ranks, so I had to move on to students like you and Mr. Perry. Speaking of Mr. Perry, you really ought to stop by my store and pick up a little something for yourself. I hear all records are 30% off.” he spoke, a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face.
“ Your store? But I thought Mr. Perry-”
“Well, what was formerly my store. Under much better management now that I’ve retired to my little cottage by the sea.” Keating had winked at him, paid for the book, and walked out.
Todd’s thoughts of the odd man were drowned out by the music. He opened his eyes and stood up. He wedged the book into a tiny space on one of his many overflowing bookshelves, shrugged on a coat over his sweater, and headed downstairs. He pushed open the door and walked out onto the street to be greeted by a cool gust of fall air. Not long until his 24th birthday. His graduation from Balincrest still felt like it was just yesterday, though it had taken years of working odd jobs since then to get to this point. Todd sighed. It was only then he realized he wasn’t quite sure how to get Neil Perry’s attention. There was no doorbell, the shop was closed up, and it was unlikely his new neighbor would hear him from down here anyway (not that shouting or banging on the door were ever considerable options to begin with).
Todd stood there for a moment, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the streetlights. His thoughts returned to Keating again. His new regular appeared to take pleasure in dispensing little bits of wisdom each time he showed up to talk Todd’s ear off. He stared at the light on in the upstairs window and reflected on Keating’s latest insight as he picked up a pebble-sized piece of concrete that had chipped off the curb. Carpe diem . He shifted his grip on the “rock”, rolling it in his hand, contemplating. Seize the day . He could listen to the crazy man or his common sense.
He wasn’t sure what part of him told him “crazy man” when his brain was screaming “common sense”, but apparently that part overruled any and all logical reasoning. He threw the rock in an upward arc, flinching slightly as it bounced off the window with a thunk. It didn’t take long for the window to slide open and a head to pop out. Todd couldn’t make out his face in the dark.
“Hello?” Neil called down, tone wary.
“Hey, uh, hello! I’m Todd Anderson, I own The Book Nook.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. Before he could begin to explain his reasoning for throwing a rock at his window, he was cut off by an oddly cheery voice.
“Oh! It’s nice to meet you! Hang on a second, I’ll be right down!” Neil called before he shut the window. In no time flat, the lights in the store below flickered on and a man about Todd’s age appeared to unlock the door, seemingly with no qualms about letting someone inside at 10:30 in the evening. He was dressed in a set of red-and-white flannel pajamas, but didn’t seem too bothered by that fact, either. “Welcome to Rambling Records, Mr. Anderson.” he joked with a grin and a dramatic bow as the door swung open. “I’m Neil Perry.” Todd nodded nervously and shuffled inside. “Come on upstairs,” Neil invited, gesturing for Todd to follow him once he had entered.
Neil had already begun the walk towards the door at the back of the shop, but Todd stopped in between a few of the many shelves of records. “Actually, I-I… I wasn’t really...” Todd trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Neil turned back to him, raising his eyebrows. “You’re gonna have to speak up, Todd. Talking is kind of what the sales business is all about.”
“I-I really didn’t come here for a visit, I… Look, can you turn your music off?” Neil’s brows furrowed as Todd asked the question. “I’m trying to sleep.” Todd huffed. Neil’s face fell, his whole demeanor shifting from informal to formal in a fraction of a second. Even in his socks and pajamas, Neil was somehow closed-off and businesslike where he’d been so friendly just a moment before. Todd dropped his gaze to the floor and stared at his shoes, avoiding eye contact.
“Yes. I didn’t mean to cause any disruption, Mr. Anderson. Apologies.” Neil replied, smiling in a way that didn’t seem genuine. He offered a stiff nod before he turned and walked briskly back to the front of the store. He held the door open for Todd and waited politely for him to exit.
Todd, still shaken from Neil’s sudden transformation, now shook a bit himself as he walked towards the open door. He could feel the panic and anxiety build in his chest and stomach, tightening his muscles and tensing his whole body. He clutched his fists at his sides until his knuckles turned white. “I got your record,” he spat out as he turned and stopped just outside the door, his voice trembling. Neil paused with the door half-open and glanced at him, his eyes dark. “I-it’s nice. Thank you.”
Neil only gave another quick nod. “Good night.” he said.
“Good night,” Todd mumbled too softly for him to hear as Neil finally closed the door. Todd stood silently as Neil locked up the shop, turned off the lights, and strode to the door to the stairwell at the back of the shop. Todd jumped at the sound as Neil disappeared and slammed it behind him. He trudged back home, his head down and tears shining at the corners of his eyes.
He wasn’t bothered by music in the night again.
Todd carefully avoided talking to Neil after that. Weeks passed. On days when he closed up shop early, he would sometimes take a walk down the street and stop in front of the record store window. When the shop was open but no customers were inside, he would occasionally catch Neil dancing around in the empty store and listening to musical theatre records. He acted out every part with dramatic gestures to accompany his off-key singing, even adopting different voices, stances, and mannerisms for each character. The subtleties of Neil’s movements and the sound of his voice made their way into the poetry Todd wrote each night, crumpled up, and threw away.
Todd always found himself smiling when he watched him. He just looked so happy, so free, so different from the person he encountered that night. Even his clothes reflected his seemingly casual, carefree attitude - he seemed to favor flannel shirts, sneakers, and ripped jeans. Sometimes he’d even pull customers into a dance after a lively chat, grinning the whole time. When Neil closed up shop, the smile was gone from his face, his formerly bright brown eyes hollow. It was uncanny.
Todd was taking another stroll down the sidewalk when a man in a long, gray coat turned into the record store. Todd glanced up as he passed, expecting to see Neil greet the customer warmly, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Neil freeze where he was. Todd ducked his head and walked back towards his own store as Neil moved to close the front door and flipped the sign hanging there from “OPEN” to “CLOSED”. Todd paused, backed up a few steps, and peered discreetly through the window to get a look at the two men.
The bald man in the coat was gesturing angrily, clearly displeased. Todd couldn’t hear what was being said, but the stranger was clearly doing most of the talking. Neil gave short replies, not putting up a fight, his face emotionless. The man stormed out the door after a few minutes. Neil vanished, obscured by the shelves of records as he sank down towards the floor.
Todd walked to the door and peered through, but couldn’t see Neil anywhere. He paused and inhaled deeply. Against his better judgement and the direct message of the sign, he pushed the door open and walked inside. He spotted Neil leaning against one of the shelves, his head tucked into his knees, which were pulled up into his chest and being hugged by his arms.
“Mr. Perry?” Todd ventured softly.
“Don’t call me that.” came the mumbled response. “Mr. Perry is my father.”
“Was that man your father?” Todd asked so softly it was practically a whisper.
Neil looked up at him, his eyes shining with tears. “What are you doing here?” he asked, half-spitting and half-whimpering the words. Todd stood silently. He didn’t really know how to answer that question, since he himself wasn’t sure of the answer. He wandered over to the record player that was playing something calm and instrumental and glanced at the stack of records beside it. He selected South Pacific and replaced the current record. Every time he passed the store, Neil always almost had Happy Talk playing, so he put that on. He stared at the spinning record as it played and didn’t even notice Neil walking up behind him.
“Talk about things you'd like to do. You gotta have a dream! If you don't have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come tr-”
The song was cut off as Neil lifted the needle. He popped the record out of the machine and paused for a moment. Todd met his eyes for a split second, but he spotted the storm brewing there too late.
“SHUT UP!” Neil screamed as he smashed to record against the sales counter next to the record player. It shattered and clattered to the floor. Neil pointed the broken piece of record still clutched in his hand at Todd, who began to back away. “What the hell is your problem!?” Neil yelled, taking another step towards him. Todd felt his back press against one of the shelves of records. He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but fear made his voice catch in his throat.
“Why are you always watching me? Do you think I don’t notice? Do you think I’m an idiot!?” Neil’s voice cracked as he spoke. “You hate me, I get it! I’m just the annoying kid next door who’s too stupid to get over his dreams and get his head out of the clouds!” Neil took a breath and set the broken record on the counter. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed deeply.
“I don’t hate you, Neil.” Todd managed.
Neil looked back up at him, his brows knitted in confusion. “Then why do you stand out there and look at me like that?”
“I… I don’t know! Because you’re different. Because you can stand there a-and talk to people and pretend not to care what anyone thinks.” Todd had to pause to catch his breath. “You can dance around and sing just do things that I can’t do. Because you… because you live . Because you say things and people listen.”
Neil let out a dark laugh and smiled a twisted smile. He wiped the tears from his eyes, then ran a hand down his face. He laughed again. “I’m worthless.” he whispered, still smiling that eerie smile. He turned so his back was to Todd and shook his head. Todd just stared with his mouth half-open, grasping for words. After what seemed like an hour of silence, Neil nodded. “You guessed it.” He gave a weak attempt at a laugh. “That was my father.” he confirmed Todd’s earlier inquiry, his voice quiet.
Todd continued to try to find words, but none came. “I was never even supposed to own this place,” Neil continued. “My father wanted me to be a doctor. Still does. I graduated Welton, went to Harvard like I was expected to, got a job working here when I wasn’t in class.” Neil folded his arms and leaned on one of the shelves, still facing away from Todd. “When Keating retired, he offered to let me take over. It was the perfect opportunity to drop out, so I did. Now I’m nothing but a disappointment. Keating’s the closest thing to a father I have.” He kicked at one of the record pieces on the floor.
More silence. “Yeah.” Todd said. “Me, too.” He shrugged.
Neil finally turned to look at him. He gave another deep sigh and put his back against the shelf. “Should I be expecting a restraining order? An eviction notice? Jail time?” Todd shook his head. He turned and began to walk slowly towards the door, but stopped when Neil spoke again. “What’s your story?” Todd kept his back to Neil. He didn’t answer as he walked out out the door.
Neil ran after him. “What’s your story?” he repeated, raising his voice to be heard over the breeze. The wind had picked up, causing stray leaves to rattle down the street.
“I don’t have one.” Todd said.
“Sure you do. Everyone has a story.”
“Not one that’s worth hearing.”
“So you get to walk into my store when the sign clearly says “CLOSED”, stick your nose into my business, witness a very personal moment that was meant to be private, and all I get to know about you is your name?”
Todd, who had stopped in front of the door to his bookstore, finally turned to look back at Neil. The wind whipped at his clothes and hair, but he still stood seemingly undaunted, his face expectant.
Todd let out a breath that was whisked away immediately. “Fine, come inside.”
Neil sat in the only other armchair in Todd’s apartment, never used until now. With blankets over their shoulders and cups of tea clutched in their hands, they talked. They talked about family and expectations and falling short of them. They talked about Keating, about seizing the day, about happiness and lack of it, about dreams that never came to pass. In a few hours, Neil went from a stranger to something close to a kindred spirit.
It was dark when they said their goodbyes. The wind outside was howling and Neil had neglected to wear a coat. Todd took off his coat, a brown suede jacket with a fuzzy white collar, and draped it over Neil’s shoulders despite his insistence that he wouldn’t freeze to death in the twenty feet between their shops. Neil smiled at him in a way that might have even been genuine and told him he’d return it tomorrow.
“Keep it.” said Todd.
He didn’t complain when he heard Neil playing Happy Talk in the middle of the night.
Todd was organizing his books a few mornings later when he heard the chime of the bell above the door that signaled the arrival of his first customer of the day. He looked up to see Neil standing there. His hair was combed but still perfectly messy, his eyes somehow fuller and brighter than the last time Todd had seen him. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of the jacket Todd had given him as he looked around, smiling ever so slightly and bouncing on his feet. Todd checked his watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be open right now?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Neil said. “You said you like poetry, right? What do you recommend?” he asked, wandering towards the poetry section. Todd vacated his seat behind the counter and followed with a mix between shock and awe, pleasantly surprised someone was asking his opinion and still confused by Neil’s sudden appearance. He pointed out his favorites and some classics. Neil promptly began collecting a stack of the books Todd had selected in his arms. Todd watched him with bewilderment as he thunked the stack down on the counter. “I’ll take these.”
Todd looked him up and down as he rang up the purchase. Neil was constantly fidgeting as he counted out his money, his bangs flopping in his face as he silently added it up, his lips moving but no sound coming out. His cheeks were still flushed from the cold outside, coloring his face in a gentle red hue. Todd stared at him with his mouth open for a second before scrambling to grab the receipt he had printed. He paused, hesitated, and picked up a pen. Todd scribbled his number on the back of the receipt before sticking it in one of the books.
Todd lifted one hand in an awkward wave as Neil elbowed open the door. “Thanks for the books. See ‘ya, Todd.” Neil called. He tripped over the doorstep and let out a comical yelp as the stack of books nearly tumbled to the ground, but he managed to right himself and avert disaster. Todd giggled to himself as he left. The smile lingered on his face longer than he thought it would.
When the phone rang that evening, Todd answered it so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get to it. “Neil?” he ventured.
“Todd! Hey, uh, do you want to come over and have a beer or something tonight? I thought I could let you pick out a few records as payment for the jacket.” He sounded uncharacteristically nervous, but it paled in comparison to Todd’s own anxiety.
“Sure,” Todd breathed. “What time?”
“7:30 sound good?”
“Okay.”
“Alright. Just come in, I’ll leave the door open.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Todd hung up, opened the window, and let out a barbaric yawp that would have made Keating proud.
Todd pushed open the door of Rambling Records and walked up the stairs. He’d swapped out his usual sweater for a green plaid suit jacket over a white button-up. He adjusted his black-and-red striped tie and ran a hand through his hair, which he’d carefully styled and slicked back. He took a deep breath and prepared to knock on the door to the apartment at the top of the stairs. As he reached out, it suddenly swung open to reveal a grinning Neil.
He was wearing a dark purple button-up and a white tie, his jeans swapped out for black slacks. “Hey! Go ahead and come in, sorry for the mess. You look nice.” Neil greeted, smiling nervously and rubbing the back of his neck. Todd stepped inside and shed his coat, glancing around at the apartment. The tiny kitchen was on the left and the living room was in front of him. Any stray items had been hurriedly shoved to the sides of the room and the carpet showed signs of being frantically vacuumed. The overhead lights were off and the apartment was lit mainly by lamps. The record player in his living room softly played The Music Man as Neil led him to the kitchen.
Neil sat down at the tiny table, his knee bouncing against the floor as he told Todd what was on their plates (mashed potatoes and lasagna) and rambled about his terrible cooking. Todd smiled and Neil suddenly went still.
“Is this a date?” Neil asked out of the blue. “I just, I- we should-” Neil’s breath caught in his throat as Todd started to reach across the table with trembling hands. He gently placed his hand on top of Neil’s, not entirely sure whether or not he was breathing.
“Yeah.” he breathed, smiling faintly.
One too many beers later, Todd was slightly tipsy as he tottered after Neil into the living room. He laughed as Neil dramatically recited lines from plays that were only fantasies, roles he tried for but never got. It may have been too late for him to be an actor on the big stage, but he could still perform for a smaller audience. As the laughter died down, ‘Til There Was You started to play.
“There were bells on a hill, but I never heard them ringing-” Todd began to sing, his voice soft and scratchy. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed Neil’s hand. Neil laughed as Todd pulled him into a clumsy dance. Todd couldn’t keep the smile from his face as they spun mindlessly around the room. They both sung the final line together in a terribly dissonant chord and fell back onto the couch, stomachs knotting in laughter.
Neil leaned against him. “I didn’t mean to get you drunk, man, my bad. Do you want me to walk you home?”
“I think I’m sober enough to walk twenty feet.” Todd replied.
“Are you sober enough to give an answer you won’t regret if I ask to kiss you?”
“Well, you know what Keating would say.” Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Neil’s lips were on his. When they separated, they were both grinning.
Neil helped him to his feet. “Alright, let’s get you home.”
Todd woke up the next morning with a headache and another record slipped under his door. He leaned down to pick it up and realized it was The Music Man from last night. Two pieces of paper had been taped on.
I had a really good time last night. Thought you might want something to remember it by.
P.S. I found this in the pocket of the jacket you gave me. You're incredible, Todd. I hope I get to hear more of your thoughts one day. xoxo
-Neil next door
Todd glanced at the other piece of paper, a snippet from his notepad he’d forgotten about when he gave Neil the jacket, and went red. It had been penned on one of the many occasions he’d paused outside Neil’s window to watch him.
Are you a family disappointment?
I kind of hope you are.
I’m a family disappointment.
Your soul could power worlds.
If you’re a family disappointment,
Maybe I have hope.