Page 107 of To Love or to Lose
“How long would it take you?”
I could have figured out the answer on my own, but I want to hear her talk numbers; she’s good at it.
She answers shortly, “I estimate a little over eighteen hundred hours.”
“Okay, so it would take you seventy-six days.” I calculate in my head seamlessly. “I take it math is your best subject?” Referring to her quick, mathematical figuring—which is as fast as mine.
“I could say the same thing about you.” Her voice rolls easily, more so than any other person I’ve ever been forced to talk to. “I’m also shocked, Jameson. I thought you would know better than to think I have afavoritesubject.”
Unlike whenever I talk to other people, every time I talk to Genevieve, I make another realization.
Today’s realization?
I’ve never felt forced to talk to her.
“You don’t have a preferred subject?”
Genevieve narrows her eyes. “You don’t need to have a preferred subject when you’re equally advanced in all of them.”
I hum in response. “Did you really used to dream about reading every book on one of those shelves?”
“It’s the only dream I’ve ever had that’s been out of reach. Seventy-six days straight of reading.” She looks off toward the shelves. “I haven’t even been here a combined seventy-six days over the nine years I've been coming here.”
“Maybe in your wildest fantasy, Miss Alderidge.”
She looks at the ceiling, a constellation covering it. Her eyes focus on the shooting star. “May all my wildest dreams become my wildest reality.” She says it with such authority that I think the heavens have no other choice but to obey her.
Nonetheless, I counter, “I don’t think it comes true when you say it out loud.”
“This isn’t a birthday cake, Jameson. I’m not blowing out candles.” She takes a step toward the stairs, her heel clacking against the marble of the first one. “Plus, it’s not a wish. It’s a declaration.”
She must be headed for the shelves full of books, which are promptly on the upper level with chairs scattered all around them.
“Why would you want to spend so much time reading anyway?” I admit, I enjoy reading more than the average person, but I would never want to spend seventy-six days doing so. It's a false reality.
“I like the feeling of being whoever I want to be, in whatever world I want to live,” she responds. “I wish I had enough time in my life to not just read every book but experience them too.”
I smile. “I like that.” Her longing for escapism—while it may draw some questions—doesn’t alter her perspective.
All she does is smile, continuing her path up the stairs, and I decide to follow a few short steps behind.
“You know, if you weren’t wearing heels, you would be able to get up these stairs a lot faster.”It’s a bit odd to me, considering I usually see her wearing mary janes or some type of platform shoe.
I take on a quicker stride, grabbing the inside banister of the spiral staircase. The sound of her heels intensifies as I reach the step that she’s on, keeping pace with her.
“I’m sure that I could, but I would never succumb to the idea of comfort over fashion.”
She’s always so literal; it has to be exhausting. Those heels probably are too. “What about practicality? Ever think about that?”
Genevieve smiles, more to herself than anything. “My mom always told me that if you’re a woman powerful enough to be on a pedestal, it might as well be a good pair of heels.”
“Of course, your mother would say something like that.” We’re still traveling up the staircase, our feet hitting the steps at the same time.
“She wanted to raise a strong, independent daughter. Mostly because I always dreamed of going into a professional field, which is mainly dominated by men. My mom wanted me to hold my own, even when people thought less of me.”
We finally reach the top of the staircase.
“I think she succeeded.”
