He turns his powers of analysis away from the logic of symbols, and toward his churning subconscious. He strips his questions down to their barest form, and he finds the single unifying theme of his contradictory feelings. He suddenly knows why he feels the way he does about her, why she still touches him, and why, at irregular and unpredictable intervals, he wonders where she is and how she is doing: he has become her parent, and she his child. He sees, finally, that as much as he believed he was imposing his will on her, she was also imposing her need on him, and their two dispositions interlocked. And the consequence was a mutual education. He experienced a relationship in which he was the sole responsible party, and he notes its failures; she found someone to guide her through to the next level of her life. Mirabelle, standing on uneasy legs, now feeling the warmth of her first mature reciprocal love, has broken away from him. But he knows that like a parent, he will be there for her, ever.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him. Some nights these thoughts, separated by miles and time zones, occur at the same objective moment, and Ray and Mirabelle are connected without ever knowing it. One night, he will think of her as he looks into the eyes of someone new, searching for the two qualities that Mirabelle defined for him: loyalty and acceptance. Mirabelle, far away and in Jeremy’s embrace, knows that what had been lost is now regained.
Months later, after the hard edges of their breakup had smoothed into forgetfulness, Mirabelle speaks with Ray Porter on the phone. She tells him about her new life, and he hears the fresh delight in her voice. She tells him, “I feel like I really belong here. For the first time, I feel like I really belong.” She underplays Jeremy’s place in her heart as she thinks it might hurt Ray. She mentions that she continues to draw and sell, with a positive review in Art News to her credit. They reminisce about their affair and she tells him how he helped her and he tells her how she helped him, then he apologizes for the way he handled everything. “Oh, no . . . don’t,” she corrects him: “it’s pain that changes our lives.” And there is a pause, and neither speaks. Then Mirabelle says, “I took the gloves to Vermont and stored them in my memory box––my mother asked me what they were but I kept it to myself––and here in my bedroom, in my private drawer, I keep a photo of you.”
Acknowledgments
If writing is so solitary, why are there so many people to thank? First, Leigh Haber, who delicately edited the book without bruising my ego; Esther Newberg and Sam Cohn, who first uttered encouraging words; my friends April, Sarah, Victoria, Nora, Eric and Eric, Ellen, Mary, and Susan, who were all convinced that it was their idea to read and provide helpful comments on this book during its early stages. How can I thank them except to offer a twenty-five percent discount on bulk purchases when accompanied by a valid driver’s license?
Copyright
Copyright © 2000 40 Share Productions, Inc.
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Martin, Steve
Shopgirl:a novella/Steve Martin—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Beverly Hills (Calif.)—Fiction. 2. Clerks (Retail trade)—Fiction. 3. Department stores—Fiction. 4. Medication abuse—Fiction. 5. Young women—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3563.A7293 S56 2000
813’.54—dc21 00-038874
ISBN: 0-7868-6658-6
Paperback ISBN: 0-7868-8568-8
EPub Edition © 2010 ISBN: 9780786871643
FIRST PAPERBACK EDITION
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
STEVE MARTIN, Shopgirl
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