Astor Place Vintage: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

always decide to come out. It’s not like I’d be in control of your brain.”
    I nodded so he’d think I was reassured.
    “But,” he added, “you really do need to be open for this to work.”
    I wanted to be open. At the very least, I wanted to come through for Molly. We’d known each since we both went to FIT. Now she had her own store a few blocks away from mine—a teensy-tiny shop selling vintage buttons.
    Besides, Dr. Markoff wore a bow tie. Bow ties never should’ve gone out of fashion. “I’d like to try.”
    Dr. Markoff nodded toward the couch.
    I lay down, adjusted my skirt around my legs, and faced the ceiling. It surprised me, how vulnerable I felt to be splayed out in front of him.
    “I’ll tape our session,” he said, “so you can take it with you to play at home when you’re going to sleep. It might help put you in a relaxed state of mind. Before we begin, I’d like you to think of a place where you feel very comfortable and content.”
    “My apartment?”
    “Somewhere you go to escape, to get away from your usual routine. It could be a beach, the woods, a mountain . . .”
    “Nature makes me nervous.”
    “A place of worship.”
    “I’m not religious.”
    “Anywhere that helps take your mind off your troubles.”
    “That would be looking for clothes.”
    “A store? That’s fine. Which one?”
    He went for that? I was half joking. I rarely shopped for new clothes. So much stuff was overpriced or too generic. And as much as I liked thrift stores, they tended not to smell very good. I’d been thinking more of the hunt for merchandise to sell, not to buy.
    “Somewhere that makes you feel secure,” he said.
    I could hear the impatience in his voice. Obviously, this part of the procedure wasn’t supposed to be such a challenge. I could say a department store, but that applied more to how I rememberedthem than the way they were now. The store that appealed to me most no longer existed. “I’m thinking of Altman’s department store, except they aren’t in business anymore.”
    “That’s fine. It exists in your mind, in your memory, and that’s all we need; that’s all we really want. Shall we start?”

OLIVE
    WHILE RIDING THE moving staircase up to the second floor, I found myself behind a little girl pleading with her mother to buy a doll. The mother said the girl had enough dolls. The girl began to cry with all her might. I couldn’t imagine having the patience to be a parent. As an only child, I’d never even held an infant in my arms.
    Some of my girlfriends back in Cold Spring were already mothers; when they went on about their babies’ alleged accomplishments, I could barely manage to pretend interest. I’d never quite fit in with the girls in my town and often used to doubt myself for being too odd.
    When I met Daisy and we became good chums, I decided the girls from Cold Spring were too conventional, and I ceased caring if I was odd. That attitude was fine while living at Miss Hall’s, but after returning home, I found it harder than ever to socialize with my old friends.
    Mostly, I divided my time between helping Aunt Ida with thechores and sitting on the porch swing staring into the trees. As the summer passed, a sense of melancholy came over me. My aunt already had her routines well established; trying to make use of me was probably more of a nuisance than anything else. Whereas she seemed to derive deep satisfaction from her efforts to clean and sanitize, I felt only futility and ineffectiveness, as if the act of trying to wipe out every germ that lived inside our house was gradually making me disappear. I decided to ask Father for a regular paying job at the store.
    If I’d been a son, hiring me on as his assistant manager would’ve been a natural development. Since I was his daughter, he wouldn’t even consider allowing me to “debase” myself by working for an hourly wage.
    “Stop your crying!” the mother in front of me yelled. “Or I shall take