Page 17 of The Librarians
Jonathan’s heart rate surges. Does this mean Ryan will pass on the message to Conrad at some point? And does this mean Ryan will then get back to Jonathan?
He sits up straight, startling Chimney. In the next ten minutes he taps and deletes a dozen different responses.
Dare he read any significance into it? Or is Ryan’s casual reply merely their generation’s equivalent of his mother’s willingness, at times, to talk to telemarketers and pollsters because there’s nothing good on TV?
In the end he tosses aside his phone and holds his cat close, because only one of the two has affection to share.
When Astrid returned to her condo, it seemed the most natural thing to contact Perry.
Are you okay?
I’m home.
Come and let me take a look at you.
But now, after she’s taken a shower and ordered a pizza, he still hasn’t responded, as if his desperate pleas the day before were just so much pollen, there to cause headaches and itchy eyes.
The bag of Halloween decorations she brought back from the library sits limply on her dining table, all illusion and fakery.
In the beginning, everything went so well with Perry she actually lookedforward to telling the truth about her accent to people and at last unburdening herself. Looked forward to having friends again. She would organize potluck parties, binge-watching parties, and maybe even a book club for her condo community.
In that moment of blind optimism, she bought the Halloween decorations in anticipation of a whole new life.
But he ghosted her the next day and her hopes, castles in the air, fell prey to gravity.
Astrid’s phone dings. Her doorbell rings at the same time.
She whips around in surprise. Hehasn’tstood her up?
Yet she does not feel buoyant. To the contrary, she feels as if someone has poured concrete over her feet. A deep dread curls around her heart.
It’s the moment of truth and moments of truth are always, always the worst.
A little before eleven, Sophie totters into her house.
Almost immediately Elise appears at the top of the stairs. “Hey, where have you been?”
Oh, shit. Sophie does not want Elise’s observant eyes on her now. She manages a smile. “You’re still up, nugget?”
“I just got done with myHamiltonessay. How long does it take to buy some cookies? I texted you.”
For the first time in her life Sophie wishes she had a sullen, self-involved teenager who shuts herself in her room, blasts music 24/7, and would never notice her mom briefly leaving the house at night.
Sophie has no choice but to brazen it out. She sets the cookies on the kitchen counter and sorts other items into the fridge. “I decided to get more stuff since I was already at the store. I got cupcakes too. Frozen burritos. Frozen tamales. But don’t touch the cupcakes—they’re for the library.”
“Oooh,” says Elise. “What’s come over you, Mom?”
Sophie considers frozen prepared meals processed food and tries not to indulge in them too often.
“I guess the success of Game Night went to my head.” She laughs a little.
Even though she feels like crying.
No, a nervous breakdown, that’s what she feels like having.
She shoos Elise out of the kitchen. “Okay, go to bed, now that you’re done with your essay. I need to sleep too.”
But how can she ever sleep again, knowing what is to come?
