Page 37 of Read Me (Forget the Past 2)

“No?”

I’m surprised enough to glance up at him, meeting his intense gaze.

“Only give me real smiles. If you’re sad, frown at me. If you’re mad, scowl.”

Frown? Scowl? Those would give only a hint at the deep pit of sadness that exists in my heart.

“What if I want to break down? Sob and cry and become an utter mess of a person. Maybe not even be a person anymore. What if I want to be a puddle? A sopping wet puddle of misery?”

Cole doesn’t answer straight away. He runs his chilly eyes over me before glancing around the lobby area as if searching for something.

“I’ll find another librarian,” he says. “Tell them you need to take a break, and we can go back to your office. Then you can become a puddle.” Cole takes a step toward the reading room, and I fully believe he’s ready to pull Karen off the reference desk for me.

“Wait! Come back.” My hand reaches out as if I might grab him. “That’s sweet, but I’m serious about putting on a good face. This is temporary, I swear. Tomorrow, I’ll be bubbly and positive, and it won’t be work for me. Tomorrow my smiles will be truthful.”

He watches me, his lips dipping into a frown.

“But not today.” Cole doesn’t add this bit as a question, only a clarity statement. He’s starting to understand the gray cloud I’m temporarily living in.

“No. Not today. This day is…” For a moment I can’t think of a word or even a metaphor thoroughly horrible enough to convey the fathomless sorrow that will forever stain this date in my mind.

“This day is…?” Cole prompts, leaning his hands on the circulation desk, regaining my attention with his icy eyes. The cool color is just soothing enough to coax words from my depressed brain.

“This day is the anniversary of the worst day of my life. If I had a choice, I would go to sleep on December fifteenth and then wake up on December seventeenth.”

He stares down at me, probably searching for some indication of amusement or overdramatization as I’m so prone to. But this is not a day for kidding and light-hearted jokes. This day is too heavy. It weighs me down, threatening to forever hold my head under water until I drown in the misery of the past.

“What can I do?”

“Oh.” The way he watches me makes me want to give him a solution to my sadness. Something that only he can achieve. But there’s no tool in the world that can fix this broken piece of me. “Nothing.”

His expression doesn’t change, but I still get the sense he’s disappointed.

Which is why I clarify, so he knows that no one can do anything.

“This is the day my dad died.”

Cole grimaces, rocking back on his heels as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“When did he pass away?”

“I was twelve.” I offer this reluctantly. Almost defensively.

“I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“It does suck. I know it’s been fourteen years, and that people expect me to be over it. To have moved on. But I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”

Cole nods. “He’s your dad.”

He says the words as if they’re the most obvious thing in the world. Like duh, of course, I wouldn’t just get over the man who once was the most important person in my life.

Suddenly, I want to tell Cole about my dad. Funny, sweet stories cycle through my head, and I open my mouth to relay one.

Then it hits me. Just like it does almost every minute of this day.

He’s dead. He’s never coming back. I’ll have no more stories with him.

“Get Karen,” I choke out before sprinting away from the desk, down the back hall, into my office. The door latch barely clicks, and I’m on the floor trying to keep my sobbing quiet.

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