Part 2: Lessons in Fame

Sun shone upon a head of flowing light brown hair as the old purple Cannondale glided along Beechurst Avenue, highlighting every bump in the asphalt. The beauty of the day helped Jo to quell her thoughts about the . Doing her best to ignore her ankle, she coasted without a care across lights and by various people, none of which paid her any mind than the other pedestrians. Crossing the Star City Bridge, the glittering water of the Monongahela river however, had the opposite effect. Having her anxiety disorder back in full swing meant that her stomach didn’t much like the thoughts of physical danger. This combined with the large group of dog walkers and fellow bikers on the bridge, she began to feel nauseous. Feeling her body begin to tense up, she forced herself to count and breathe as her therapist taught her to. One…Two…Three…Four… 

Focusing on her breathing she realized that maybe it wasn’t best to ride when air wasn’t entering her lungs as easily and, so after hesitating for a minute, she decided to stop for a bit. Bookstores always helped to take the edge off and so she turned off at Emmett Drive in search of one of her frequent places of visit. As she rode, she also prayed that this would remain the same. Once the local Barnes and Noble on University Town Centre Drive came into view she heaved a sigh of relief. This would be as good a place as any to regain her composure and perhaps learn more about her plight and how to reverse it. 

Double glass doors opened like a portal into a land cut off from the world. A place where imagination could be realized and dreams came true. The scents of dust jackets and coffee overwhelmed her senses and yet soothed them at the same time. After breathing in the fumes inherent in almost all bookstores, she stepped to the counter of the in-store Starbucks. The register, which had initially been empty, was now occupied by a shorter girl with dyed red hair and thick rimmed glasses. “Can I help you?” 

The barista, whose name tag was ‘Sophie’, was dressed like someone spilled a pumpkin latte onto a seed and the resulting plant grew up to work a minimum wage job at a starbucks. Jo stood for a second, eyes on the menu. She knew what she wanted and wasted no time in ordering. “Hi, yes… I will have a tall mocha with whipped cream and a grande green tea…” 

Her voice trailed off as muscle memory had forced her to place an extra order. One that had never belonged to her. Before she was able to retract it the human edition of Fall had already started the brewing process. She was about to say something about not paying yet but, according to her shaking hands and the crushed receipt, it had appeared that money was exchanged below her oblivious nose. Scatter brained and hyper aware of every part of her body and surroundings, she sat down at a nearby table. A shockingly short while later, her tall mocha and Phil’s grande green tea were set onto the counter. Sohpie called out to the only person waiting in the coffee shop. “Jo!” 

The mocha tasted like the blood from her chewed lips and the tea she dared not drink. She turned back to the barista who stood fiddling her many bracelets. “Do you like green tea?” 

The girl gave her a perplexed look. “Um…not particularly?” 

“Ok,” she set the large cup back onto the counter. “Me neither.” 

Doing her best to ignore the strange looks of Sophie, Jo stepped out of the coffee shop and her usual ritual began. Per the layout of the store, her journey began at the Sci fi section just around the corner. Thick and thin volumes by the likes of Wells and Asimov slipped gracefully under her gaze, each title competing for her interest. Books upon books promising fascinating planets, creatures, and stars all leading to a temporary escape from the Earth on which she now stood. But, despite the beauty of the stars, it was the ground upon which she wished to remain firm and so she moved on. She had had enough escapism for one day. When the section had passed a couple shelves later, she was faced by the embodiments of both terror and tension. King and Lovecraft glared at her from beyond their chains which kept them on their shelves. Each and every text flicked their tongues, threatening to show her horrors beyond comprehension. Jo slowly tread by, as if surrounded by wolves. She didn’t dare to make eye contact lest they sense her unease and strike. At last she stood still. The thriller titles had slowly morphed into something more sensual, more delicate. The covers, some pink others blue, beamed at her from the home of romance. ‘Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning -Coelho’ or so the sign on top of the shelf reads. Recently the page of the dictionary which held the word ‘Love’ had been torn asunder and it would take a miracle for Jo to tape it back together again. Sensing the tears attempting to force themselves from her eyes, her gaze turned quickly to the books below. Thousands of words, each prepared to rip her heart to shreds and sow it back together again. Sparks, Roberts, and Austen, all begging for her to cry with them, laugh with them, and, at last, die with them. As she browsed through the section, a title caught her eye: The Life of Ms. Jocelyn M Thatcher. She knew this moment would come, of course it would. She had even pictured this very second during the ride over. However, she had underestimated just how unprepared she truly was. She took a deep breath and carefully picked up a slice of her own life. Flipping it open, the picture of Madison Wood on the dustjacket gave her a cool grin as if she knew how difficult this was about to be. Jo’s legs began shaking as her hand flipped the first page, then a second. Heart beating out of her chest she began to read. From the very first sentence, everything seemed frighteningly familiar. 

“Jocelyn was born on a Monday. It wasn’t a particularly bright day. Nor was it overcast. In the grand scheme of all the days of the year 1999, October 18th was about as average as it could possibly have gotten. Maybe it was some stroke of luck. Maybe there was no luck involved at all. It didn’t matter. All that did was that, when she took her first breath, the very universe smiled at her with teeth made of fluffy white clouds. When she cried, so did the world. A storm greeted the young child as the family stepped from the confines of the hospital and rain obscured the windshield on the way back to their modest apartment on the north side of Buffalo, New York. However, the rain did nothing to dampen their joy upon her arrival into their life.”

It was like each word on the pages of her world had been ripped out and meticulously imprinted into the paper that she held in her hand. Words that had been told to her by her mother and father. Details which her older brother had thrown in. All of it thrown onto a page. It felt wrong, almost dirty. A violation of her very being. She could see the thoughts of her siblings, her mom and dad, and herself. She bore witness to parts of her life that she believed were only hers to know. Jocelyn Marie Thatcher spread out for the whole world to see. The full package, complete with all of her faults, issues, and fear. Her skin was flayed with every description. Her lips peeled back to expose her rotting teeth and scars. With every word, Jo was turned inside out then back again. She wanted to set it down. She wanted to turn away and hide from herself, to maintain but a shred of dignity. However, curiosity stole her gaze and turned it back to her life. Eventually her silent prayer was answered when a kind older man gently tapped on her shoulder breaking her spell. “Excuse me Miss, but you appear to be having a bit of an issue with that coffee and I was wondering if you were OK.” 

Jo looked to find that her mocha now lay on the ground, embedding itself into the carpet. “Oh my God. I am so sorry, it's been a long day. I- uh… Thank you, sir…” 

Without another word she rushed back to the cafe and, when she had returned, Sophie was hot on her tail with cleaning solution and a sponge. After a flustered second of cleaning on both of their hands and knees, Sophie finally asked what happened. 

Jo paused and thought of a proper response. One that didn’t give her away. “I was just so engrossed in reading that it must've just slipped through my fingers, I am so so so sorry.” 

Jo began vigorously scrubbing at the brown spot that smelled of dark roast. Sophie laughed. Jo couldn’t tell if it was with her or at her and she tried to not care, only focusing on the dark spot which was slowly returning to its original color. “Don't worry about it, it happens all the time. I probably have to help clean a spill once a week. Plus, I have seen a lot worse.” 

The thin book on the floor beside the spill caught her eye. “Besides, with a book that good, I wouldn't blame you for getting lost in it. I did the same.” 

Jo’s scrubbing slowed “You've read it?” 

“Oh yeah,” she had returned to scrubbing, “Maybe five or six times. The second one was alright but the first one was perfect. How about you?” 

Jo looked at it, disgusted by the plain cover.

“No, I'm just…familiar with the story.” 

The barista stopped and looked up at her puzzled “You know it's funny, now that I think of it you actually kind of look like the main character from that book. At least how Madison describes her. Anyways, my name is Sophie. You could probably see that from my name tag but I figured it would be polite to introduce myself formally. What did you say your name was again? I mean, I know it doesn’t really matter, but I like to know this sort of thing. You seem like a cool person. Maybe we could be friends. Am I talking too much? I feel like I am talking too much. My therapist says that I do this thing where I get attached to a person really easily and then talk their ear off. Then they get scared and no real bond is made. Am I scaring you? I could back off.” 

Jo froze. So this is what Annie was talking about. 

“Um…Marie.” 

“No, no, it was something shorter. Like Sam or Kim… That's right, it was Jo. Two letters. J and O. Was there an E? Probably not, I wouldn’t peg you for the ‘Joe’ type. I doubt your name is ‘Joseph’. Or maybe it is. I don’t really care but it would be a little funny. That has nothing the same with Marie though.Where did you get that from? Is that a nickname? Or maybe like an alliteration or whatever? Alliteration? That's like the same sounding words in a poem or whatever. Is it a pseudonym? No, that doesn’t make sense, that's an author thing. Are you an author? I like writing for fun but never have had something published. Is there anything you have written? Are you published? Sorry for talking, I-” 

Jo cut her off, defeated and overwhelmed. “It's my, um…middle name.” 

The barista stood up “You have got to be kidding me. That is the greatest coincidence of all time. Unless you are lying. You aren't lying are you?” 

Jo shook her head. Sophie laughed again. “And you said you never read the book. You know your name is exactly the same as the main character? That is so funny. I have seen people with like a similar first name to a main character or even to a side character like a barista or cashier or whatever. I have never met someone with the same first middle and last name as…wait a second. Were you named after the book? No, probably not. It's possible that… you wouldn't happen to know Madison Wood would you?”

Jo decided that, if this endless stream of questions was ever going to end, she would have to come clean yet again. “I am Jocelyn Marie Thatcher and I am, in fact, from that book that caused this whole mess. Now can we please just clean this up, this has been embarrassing enough.” 

Jo bent down and turned a flushed cheek back to the scrubbing. Her towel was already too dirty to make a difference, but she supposed that anything would be better than awkward eye contact. It was hard enough for her to keep eye contact with people she has known for ages. Sophie stood up, incredulous. “I know someone who would find this hilarious. Be right back. Stay put, Jo.”

As she walked off, Jo arose from her knees. She was determined to leave this place as quickly as possible. It was a mistake to have come to begin with. As she wove through shelves, the entrance came into sight. However, as she was about to step toward it, she was stopped by Sophie who was now accompanied by a male cafe worker whose name tag read ‘Gabe’. Gabe had a skeptical look upon his face accompanied by a single raised eyebrow. After examining Jo for a second, he looked back at Sophie. “I feel like she has too many freckles but I do see what you mean. She kinda looks like her.”

He then addressed Jo. “What's your name, miss?” 

Jo tried desperately to get passed but soon other book clerks joined, forming a ring of whispers around the blushing woman. Sophie did not remove her eyes from the quivering figure who had one foot placed toward the door. “She claims she is Jocelyn, what do you think?” 

Gabe stepped closer. “What's your middle name?” 

Jo grew frustrated. Why won’t they just let me leave?

“It's Marie. Yes, yes, I got it from my grandmother. Why is everyone so obsessed with that very detail! Everyone asks me that, it's so annoying.” 

“Because,” came a voice from the slowly gathering crowd, “Only a super fan would know it!” 

She began to sweat and her ears felt like they were ringing. “ It was in the very first chapter of… nevermind. Just call me a super fan hahaha, please let me leave.” 

As she began moving for the door again the crowd parted. However, not wishing to let the spectacle get away, they began to follow her. Voices continued to pelt her with intrusive questions. It was now less of a funny coincidence and now it was like they were meeting Marilyn Monroe.

"Are you obsessed with the book?" 

“Did you change your name to match the character?

Jo walked faster, the crowd matched stride. 

"Can you sign my book?" 

“No, sign mine.”

“I asked first.”

“I asked louder and I have read it like a billion times.”

She could hear question after question being flung after her, each she dodged with panicked silence. 

“Do you know Madison Wood?” 

“Did she pay you for your likeness?”

Jo mounted her bike. 

“Is the book based on you?” 

“Are you Madison Wood?”

“No, stupid, she looks nothing like her.”

“Well, I haven’t read it.”

“Why are you here then?”

“Bored.”

“Fair enough.”

She rested her feet on the worn out pedals. 

“Can I say I met you?”

“Well, you did, didn't you?”

“I mean…yeah.”

“Did you break out of the book?” 

The crowd stopped throwing their stampede and stared at Sophie who stood chuckling after posing the strange question. “What? I think it's a fair one. Did you break out of the book?”

Jo turned and directly addressed only her. In a voice that would be more suited for talking about the weather or anything else significantly more trivial, she answered with a simple word. “Yes.”

Leaving her words floating amongst the now silent crowd, Jo pedaled away. 

Madison searched the document up and down, tired eyes meticulously scanning each and every sentence. Each and every word. Jo didn’t exist within it. Not literally but rather in a sixth sense. She tried typing out the name on a new line but an inexplicable feeling spoke of the impersonal nature of the newly typed ‘Jo’. However, this simply didn’t make sense. Why did it feel different now? Two books and six chapters into a third and suddenly the name was wrong? 

It was almost as if a part of her was missing that couldn’t be replaced so easily. Again and again she tried yet every iteration of the name left a bad taste in her mouth. Had she simply lost motivation? Was she just too tired to think straight? No, no she appeared to be in complete control of her faculties. Could it be something more surreal? After all the strangeness that had been surrounding this particular manuscript, that wouldn't be too absurd.

Dumbfounded, she picked up her cell phone which lay idle next to the laptop. For a while, she stared at her lockscreen. Who would she call? Who could possibly help her? Her editor would call her nasty things then claim that the best cure is to just keep going. She didn’t really have any friends outside of an occasional book club which she led but none of them were personal enough to help her through this. Her eyes wandered over to her couch. Madison, desperate for options, staggered to the gray sofa and pulled from the dust underneath, a photo album. Not bothering to look at the photos, she instead took a small sticky note from inside the front cover. Replacing the thin book in its rightful place, she fell back into her chair. Upon the yellow piece of paper was a phone number with the caption: ‘If you ever need anything, I’m here. Even if I wasn’t before, I am now.’ After a second of staring at the number as if it were Pandora's box that lay in her hand, she tapped it into the phone and held it to her ear. On the other end came a familiar voice, albeit one she hadn’t heard in ages. “Hello? Madison? Is that you?” 

Instantly, her voice softened. “Hey… Harper. I know it's been a while, how’ve you been?” 

“Cut the bull, what's wrong?”

Madison scoffed. “Now, don’t jump to conclusions…”

“Madi, I know you. Even if you like to think I don’t. You are calling me for the first time in a lifetime. I know there is something wrong. Spill it.”

He had always been perceptive for better or worse. Especially concerning her.  This was a symptom of knowing someone both inside and out for the better part of six years, of course. “I have a problem with my writing.” 

Harper was an English major right alongside her at WVU and was now working as a professor at the very same university from which they graduated. If there was anyone that could possibly help her out, it was him. “What is it, Madi? Is it the new book? I saw you made an announcement on Facebook. Are you having motivation issues?” 

The entire story spilled off of her tongue like bullets from a gun and it was only when she finished that she took a breath. Only the ambient buzz of the phone filled the silence before Harper spoke his mind again. “...Oh…”

“Oh? That's the best you can do? Oh?”

“I'm sorry, Madi, it's just a lot to process. How the hell does this sort of thing even start to happen?” 

Madison rubbed her eye allowing her hand to slip down the side of her face and land at her chin. “I could not begin to tell you. I wouldn’t even know where to start. However, I didn’t call you to figure out how it happened but rather how to fix it. If I can fix it…” 

She could almost hear him rubbing his nose bridge over the line. One of his signature mannerisms. “So, do you think she is actually gone or… Jesus, I didn’t think I would be saying this today, or ever for that matter, but, is she wandering outside in the real world, free? I know that sounds stupid but…” 

Madison stared at the computer, even from across the room she could feel its mystery. “No, that doesn’t sound stupid. This situation is far beyond stupid. I have no idea about anything any more but I figured I should at least tell someone. It's not like I can just replace her and, with the success of the series, I can’t just stop. Fans have been wanting this one for a long time and, well, you understand how money tends to fall out of my pocket. I’m not desperate… but not too far off.” 

“Ok, ok let's not panic. I will be here to help you with whatever you need. Don’t worry darling, we’ll find your main character one way or another. That’s a promise.”

Madison spoke her thanks and hung up the phone. Darling. 

After another second of staring, she closed the computer. Unable to take anymore of this she decided to sleep on it, which she didn’t. Instead, that singular word just spun around in her head.

He called me darling. How dare he. He gave up his rights to that name. He better not be helping me out as a way of crawling back for forgiveness, he should know better than that.