Page 116 of Here & There

“Welcome, welcome. Come in. Give me one moment, and I’ll be right down to check you in.”

“Of course,” one of them says. It’s an older woman with a thick German accent.

“Wait here,” Elizabeth says to me, and hurries up the grand staircase at a clip.

I wait awkwardly in the foyer next to the older pair. They look nearly identical and like they’re on safari with their knee socks and floppy brimmed hats.

“How is it?” The first woman whispers to me after a moment.

“I’m sorry?” I ask.

“The rooms. The grounds. The library!” the other one says. Both of them look like they’re bursting with excitement to be here.

“Um, I’m just passing through,” I say.

“Ah,” the first one says, touching a finger to her nose. “Message received.”

I’ve never been more confused. But Elizabeth’s back, pressing a small dogeared paperback into my hand. “Here. TellBeatrice she could have come and gotten it anytime she wanted. No need to be a chicken.”

Then she’s smiling at her guests.

I let myself out, more confused than ever.

In the truck, I look at the book. It’sOrlando, by Virginia Woolf. It looks like it’s been read a hundred times; the corners are soft with use, and there are notes in all the margins. I’m about to set it down when I see the inscription on the first page.

Dear Lizzie: I’m sick to death of this particular self. I want another. (Chap. 6)

I read it three times. I flip to chapter six and see it’s a line from the book.

Blood rushes in my ears, because I could have said those words right before I jumped into the ocean.

I want another.

I pick up my phone.

Mac answers on the first ring. “Hey. You okay?”

I told him I was taking the day off to do this. I texted him excitedly when I was heading to Elizabeth’s. Now, I only feel defeated, but also somehow like there’s something I’m missing.

But I’m okay when I hear his voice. It immediately calms me. “Yeah,” I say. “Too much to explain right now. But Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“I like this self.”

A beat passes. “You need to help me out, sweetheart. I didn’t go to college like you.”

I laugh softly. “I just miss you.”

We’ve only been apart for a few hours, but I can almosthearhim soften. “I miss you too, sweetheart. You say the word, and I’ll come right home to you.”

“The word.”

“Jed,” he yells. “I’m out.”

“Mac!” I laugh. “I was kidding.”

“I’m not. We have the house to ourselves for another two hours.” He lowers his voice. “So I’ll see you with as few clothes on as possible in fifteen minutes.”

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