More Thermal Units of Love

I was in New York for a few days. I wanted to get this book I’d heard about on NPR at this store that was all about love. I was walking by and saw the store. It was next door to a store where they sold love relationships, but that place was more like a dating service. This was more like universal love. A store unabashedly dedicated to the study of love.

I went in and there were books and cards, each one about love. There werew all kinds of people perusing the shelves. A young woman in a sari. A tall bearded man with red hair and blue eyes. The owner was a white man with brown hair—thin and very energetic, happy. He greeted me when I came in but didn’t ask if I needed help. I walked in among all the people browsing the shelves and tried to look like I knew what I was looking for, though suddenly I couldn’t think of the name of the book. At the back of the store I looked at a book called Love: A Meditation in Free Verse. Was that it? I didn’t think so.

I walked back through the store to leave. The owner called after me, “Mar!” How did he know my name? I stopped. He said, “Did you take a picture?”

I realized he’d seen the camera in my open purse when I walked in. He thought I was there to make fun, like they were some weirdo place, but he didn’t mind. I said, “No, I didn’t.”

“Take a picture!”

“Okay, I will! Can I take one with you?” I thought maybe against a wall of books would be nice. The owner called the redheaded guy over and handed him the camera. The redhead looked at me suspiciously, and I explained. “I heard about this place on NPR and they were talking about this book. I knew I’d be in New York in a few days, so I figured I’d just come by.”

The redhead gave the bookstore owner a little shove and said, “See? NPR.” The owner nodded. Red continued, “You could have done a promotion around that.”

The bookstore owner shrugged. This was apparently an old battle between them. “Yes, yes. Go on, MT.”

How did he know my nickname? I continued, “I had the title clear in my head the whole time, then I walked in here and just totally forgot it."

Red looked me straight in the eyes, and I looked back. Two hearts that beat as one NPR receiver. We looked at the store owner. He smiled. “That happens, MT.”

“You called me Mary when I came in.”

“All women are daughters of Mary.”

“What about MT?”

“More Therms,” he said. “It’s an endearment. It’s short for More Thermal Units of Love.”