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There’s a gun inside the hutch. Xina doesn’t know that yet, of course. She only opened one of the cabinet doors to make sure the shelves were intact, which they were. The only thing she noticed on that side were a few scented candles that, judging by the label, had probably been in there since the 2010s. Estate sales really are a goldmine sometimes. A gorgeous 1940s hutch, plus some real, unopened candles for less than 300 dollars! The candles alone could easily go for that much ever since they were reclassified as explosives back in 2053.
She doesn’t notice the case until two days later when she goes to store some box sets (Star Trek on the left, Star Wars on the right, coordinating with the shelves up top). Curiosity gets the best of her, and a few minutes of slowly lining up the pins on the combination lock, Xina hears that final satisfying click.
The wave of disappointment hits hard. There’s really nothing to like about guns. Still, it looks relatively old. One of the antique stores downtown might take it. Maybe not one of her regular ones though, don’t want them to get the wrong idea. One in particular comes to mind, she’s passed it a few times, but never gone inside. It’s smaller than the other shops and from what she’s heard, the prices aren’t great, which will hopefully deter her from getting distracted and leaving with more than she went in with.
There’s something comforting about the sound of the door chime and the smell of old paper. She could get lost in here for hours, but she has to be financially responsible at least once this month. Rent won’t pay itself.
“Well, it’s a nice model, early aughts, but they were mass produced and there’s not much demand for ‘em. They’re only worth about a hundred.”
That’s more than nothing at least. She’d probably take anything over a dollar if she’s being honest. “Oh, that’s fine. I-“
Someone hums behind her.
”You’re missing a few zeros.”
The shopkeeper’s expression sours for a split second before shifting into the fakest smile Xina’s ever seen. “Ah, Officer Gallows! Good to see you! This a friend of yours?”
Oh great, she walked in on another sting operation. Perfect timing, as always.
”Late 2015. Limited production. One of the loudest handguns ever made. But you knew that, didn’t you?” The man leans back on the counter next to Xina and grins. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a liar and a cheat. I’ll give you eight thousand.”
He has to be joking. Even if he’s serious, there’s no way she can take that much from him. It just doesn’t feel right. “Eight thousand? Are you sure? I mean-”
The man cuts her off again, rolling his eyes. ”Fine, ten. You’ve forced my hand.”
The shopkeeper is seething. “Both of you. Out. Now.”
Xina can’t help but feel like this isn’t the first time he’s had to kick this guy out, which would be a little funny if she weren’t getting caught in the crossfire. Now it’s just annoying.
”Sorry for roping you into all that, been trying to catch him in the act for a while now. It’s fine if you don’t want to sell it to me, but don’t take anything below seven, alright?”
“You weren’t just bluffing back there?”
The man looks mildly offended by the question. “Of course not. I’ve wanted that model for years. Where’d you get your hands on it anyway?”
There’s passion in his voice. Xina noticed it in the shop, but she’d assumed he was faking it. It’s hard to understand why this is the thing he’s so passionate about, but who is she to judge? It’s not any weirder than some of the things in her own collection.
”Accidentally bought it at an estate sale. You can just have it if you want.”
His face lights up and Xina knows she made the right call.
”Thank you, but I have to give you something for it. I’d be no better than him if I didn’t. Name your price, I’m sure I can make it happen.”
It’s a challenge now. He’s stubborn, but so is she. There’s no way she’ll let him win this. “The only thing I need is the knowledge that it’s going to someone who cares about it.”
There’s no way he can get out of this. Xina knows she’s got him cornered.
”I’ll just give you my number. Call me if you ever need something. Anything at all.”
Jammit, this guy’s good…
”Fine, you win. I’ll give you mine too.” She shoves the case into his hands and quickly syncs their contacts. “There. Y’know, in case there’s another one you’re looking for. I could probably track it down for you.”
”Sure. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you again, by the way.”
His sincere smile and laugh are the only things Xina remembers of him over the next few weeks. She knows she looked at the contact name when it finished syncing, but she never bothered to learn it. It was just a formality. She’ll never see him again.
After two months, an unfamiliar name pops up on the call screen. She’s hesitant to answer, she can’t remember meeting anyone named Jake, but curiosity gets the best of her yet again. In the yellow glow of the receiver is the man from the antique store. Xina barely recognizes him. He looks… different. His smile is gone, and even through the distortion of the hologram, she can see the exhaustion in his eyes.
”Ah, you picked up! I’m glad.” He’s smiling politely, but it’s clearly not genuine. The corners of his lips don’t reach the same point and his eyes don’t crease the same way. “I remember you mentioning an estate sale, and I’ve got a few things I need to get rid of. Thought I’d let you look through them before anyone else.”
Even his voice sounds forced, like he’s struggling to push the air past his throat. Maybe this is just his default, she only met him once, but something tells her it isn’t. It’s jarring, almost to the point of being downright terrifying.
“Thanks for thinking of me! I’d be happy to take a look!” Xina forces a smile of her own. She wants to ask what’s wrong, to offer help, but she doesn’t know him. It’s rude to pry.
He sighs, relieved having gotten the question out. “Great. Are you free later today?”
She wasn’t. She had plans, but something in the back of her mind is telling her to cancel. Maybe it’s the selfish desire to have the first pick, maybe it’s the need to know what’s wrong, or maybe it’s something in between.
”Yeah, just give me a few hours.”
”Thanks. I’ll send you the address.”
With that, the faint glow disappears and the room is silent yet again. As full as this apartment is, it’s always so quiet. Maybe she should invest in an android or a holo-agent. At least they wouldn’t want to leave.
A familiar bitterness creeps its way into her mind. It’s funny how one bad moment can poison so many happy memories, and how those memories keep popping up like a scab she just can’t stop picking at. She tries to push it down, to only focus on the good things, but it never works. The pictures she kept to remind her of better times only serve to remind her that she’ll never have those moments again.
A few hours later, she’s in front of an old sandstone hoping she read the address right. It’s strange for a cop to live all the way down here, but then again maybe it isn’t his. The door creaks open and she’s waved inside.
”Glad you could make it. It’s those boxes over there. I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”
He’s even quieter than he was on the call. His breathing is shallow, he won’t make eye contact… before she can think better of it, Xina grabs his wrist. He winces as if he’s in pain, but he doesn’t say anything.
”Are you okay? I know we don’t know each other, but you can talk to me if you want.”
Jake gently pulls his arm away. “I appreciate that, but I’m not in the mood to talk.”
It’s probably a lost cause. He’ll probably get angry and kick her out, but something inside her has to keep pushing. She’s not even sure why.
”Can I at least get an explanation?”
”Just returning the favor.”
He walks away, and Xina is left in eerie silence. There’s a feeling like guilt sitting in her chest, but there’s no good reason for it. She shouldn’t feel guilty, he’s the one who’s closed off, but that acidic burn won’t go away.
The boxes make it worse. It’d be rude to leave empty handed, but there isn’t really anything she’d want. Everything is relatively modern. The light catches something in the bottom of the box, a gold-colored picture frame with the photo still inside. A wedding picture, but clearly not his own. Xina assumes it’s his brother. They have the same eyes, the same smile.
Jake looks happy, even happier than when she met him. He must have put this in here by mistake. Xina can’t see any other explanation. Walking into the other room, her eyes land on him sitting at the table, staring at nothing in particular. She pulls out a chair, setting the picture down as she sits next to him. He looks over for a moment, but says nothing.
”I noticed this in one of the boxes. Thought you might want to keep it.”
To her surprise, Jake reaches over and turns the frame over.
”I can’t.” His eyes are wrenched shut, but the tears still fall. “Please… if you don’t take anything else, at least take those. I can’t look at them. I don’t deserve to.”
“But you need to, or else the only picture you’ll have is whatever horrible memory is stuck in your head. You need to remember being happy.”
She knows she’s being a hypocrite, and that her words are hollow, but she says them anyway. She doesn’t know what else to say.
”I have no right to be happy. Not yet, at least.” Guilt and anger are tearing a hole through him. There’s a brief flash of something in his eyes that Xina’s never seen before. Some sort of uncanny determination. He pauses before forcing another smile for her. “Maybe one day.”
“One day we’ll smile enough to warrant new pictures.”