Short Story: Never Too Vintage

Short Story: Never Too Vintage

This piece has not been edited by the ShortbreadStories team.

He was new to this Facebook thing. His granddaughter, Ali, had insisted on setting him up so he could keep in touch with friends and family.

‘No one sends letters any longer, Granpa. You stay in touch online,’ she explained.

Ali was right. Only a handful of Jack’s friends sent Christmas cards in the post. Jack was Facebook friends now with more than one hundred people and had begun to enjoy the trivial tidbits and photos that came across his newsfeed.

The photo in the latest update was of a young girl he didn’t recognize, but the top she was wearing caught Jack’s eye. Were they making clothes like that again? It was possible, he thought. Styles came and went and came around again. Jack clicked on the Facebook photo to enlarge it and display the additional comments.

‘Cool top’ one commenter wrote. ‘Where’d you get it?’

‘Vintage shop on Etsy. Cool stuff. Check it out,’ a link to the online shop followed.

Jack clicked the link and was taken to Runaround Sue, owned by Kelly Rae Smith from South Carolina. How would it have gotten over there? It must not be the same one, but he had to know.

He created an Etsy account, clicked on the Contact link and sent off an email with a saved image of the top attached. ‘Could you tell me where and when you acquired the attached 60s style multi-colored top with pink sleeves? Thank you so much, Jack Fraser.’

Jack awoke before his alarm, breaking his morning routine of vitamins, full glass of water and double espresso. He pulled open the laptop lid, botching the first go at the password. He took a breath and carefully punched each letter and number.

A response was in his box.

‘Dear Mr. Fraser, I would love to tell you about the top. It’s quite a personal story. I acquired the top from Armstrong’s, a vintage shop in Edinburgh. I found the shop soon after arriving in Scotland and was thrilled to discover this treasure. I wore it often when I went dancing at retro clubs. This may sound silly but it seemed that happiness lived in that top. Every time I put it on, no matter my mood, I felt instantly brighter. How did you come across it?’

It had to be the one. He had never seen another like it since. Jack sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. The music grew louder as the memory of Saturday, 10 December, 1966 came into focus. Little Richard was playing The Pentland Club.

From the moment their eyes met he knew that there was something different about her. It seemed crazy but it was if he could feel her soul. Like he already knew her. And those eyes. They were the palest shade of blue, only more dramatic by her smooth, pale skin and glossy black hair, long and flipped up at the bottom. He watched her, looking away just enough to not frighten her, but when she got closer, their eyes met again. This time he held her gaze. Her lips lifted in a soft smile that left him grabbing the counter for support. Jack cleared his throat and pressed against the tale of his shirt with both hands, discreetly wiping the sweat from his hands.

‘May I have this dance?’ his voice was low and quiet. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m Jack. You should probably know my name if we’re going to dance.’ he smiled.

She smiled back broadly, ‘Yes, a dance would be lovely.’

When she flashed that big smile again, her eyes changed and swirled in a sparkling eddy of sapphires, sky and sea. He knew that he would rather drown in those stormy blue eyes than see dry land again. He was lost to this wondrous creature.

They talked in between each dance and he learned that she was in her final year at university studying nursing. She loved children, wanting her own some day after she’d worked for awhile. They chatted on but he felt that he needed to say what was on his heart.

‘Katherine, this may sound mad, but I have to say it. I know we just met but I think we are meant to be together.’ He held his breath. Would she turn and walk away?

Her brows furrowed, ‘Look Jack, this feels like a special night to me too, but I have a lot to focus on. I just don’t know.’

‘Could I see you again?’ Jack asked quickly before she could reason herself out of seeing him.

Katherine hesitated. ‘I suppose that would be fine,’ she said finally. ‘I usually don’t give out my phone number to men I don’t know.’

‘You can invite your friends along,’ a broad grin spread across his face.

‘Yes, fine,’ She smiled then, and searched her handbag for a pencil and paper. She pulled out a store receipt and wrote her first name and phone number on the back. When she handed it to him, the warm softness of her fingers made his heart quicken.

They said goodbye and he watched her walk away with her friends, unable to turn and leave. She looked back once, smiled and waved. He finally turned and walked the other direction. The wind picked up as he headed home to his flat, making the already cold night nearly bitter. He pulled the door key from his wallet with numb fingers and the receipt fluttered out. He chased after it but it spiraled up into a brisk gust and was gone. He didn’t even know Katherine’s last name. How could he have been so stupid?

----

After sending an email thanking Kelly Rae, Jack made a visit to Armstrong’s to find out if they could give him the last name of the woman who had sold them the top. After listening to Jack explain that he had let his soulmate slip through his fingers, the woman said, ‘Listen, we do keep records back that far and I shouldn’t give you the information, but I can’t bear to be the one standing between you and love. Give me a minute.’

It was the longest thirty minutes that Jack could remember.

‘Mitchell. Her last name is Mitchell,’ she said when she returned.

Jack was elated although he knew it was unlikely that this was her name today. He refused to entertain the idea that she might have passed away. He used Google search but found nothing and then tried Facebook. He found four Katherine Mitchells in Edinburgh, hoping she still lived in Scotland. One stood out. She had another last name as well as Mitchell. He zoomed in to look closer. The woman had unusual blue eyes. It had to be her.

He wrote and re-wrote the email before hitting send. A response came in less than an hour.

‘Yes, I am the Katherine who danced with you that night. It would be lovely to chat. I do live back in Edinburgh now and can meet you.’

----

Katherine had suggested Hula’s café in Grassmarket and was sitting on the booth side of a small table when he walked in. He kissed her politely on the cheek.

‘I am more sorry than you know that I did not locate you, try harder,’ he began, the words coming fast.'Your phone number blew out of my wallet that night. I went back to the club week after week but I never saw you or any of your friends. I tried to move on. I married. My wife passed about ten years ago, cancer. We were happy… but I never forgot you.’ He lowered his head to get control of the tears that threatened to spill. ‘I can’t believe I’m sitting across from you now.’

Katherine’s eyes were as blue as he remembered, glowing with the wet of tears that welled as she had listened to his words. ‘I was surprised at how painful it was to not hear from you and to move on. I believed you must have had second thoughts. I married also. I lost David three years ago. We had a wonderful life. But every time I heard a Little Richard song I was dancing in your arms again. You never really left me. How did you find me now?’

‘It was that gorgeous pink top you wore that night. I saw it in a photo on Facebook and, through the owner of an online vintage shop, I learned that it had come from Armstrong’s. A salesperson located the record with your name and thankfully gave it to me.

Their conversation picked up where it left off forty-six years earlier. As they stepped outside into the bright, summer day, Jack offered his hand. ‘May I take a walk with you? It’s too good a day to not soak in the Scotland sun while we have it.’

‘That would be lovely,’ Katherine replied, taking his hand and leaning softly against his broad shoulder.