She stops walking and turns. “Yeah?”
Steven looks to the Mensa model for guidance. She grins mischievously.
“Uh . . .”
Say what you want to say.
Steven looks back at Emma. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
She leaves. Steven watches her go.
You pussy.
“She has a boyfriend,” Steven says, regaining his composure. “I’m not asking her out.”
His counterpart scoffs. When was the last time you went on a date? Please don’t say it was with me.
Steven doesn’t respond.
When was the last time you showered?
She picks up another book from the pile, sighing. What would Joyce say if he could see you now? She looks up at him again, as if to double-check something. Have you put on weight?
Steven throws her a dirty look.
I remember when you used to sit on the couch after class, eating those chocolate chip cookies.
“Is that why you dumped me, I was a cookie monster?”
That was the tip of the iceberg.
“Why were you with me then?”
Can’t remember.
“Why did you dump me?”
Oh, so many reasons.
“Was I too stupid? Too ugly? Too . . . average?”
You were too . . . everything.
“Then why were you with me?”
You’re going to keep asking?
“Until I get an answer.”
She sighs. I was with you . . . so I could torture you. I’m Satan’s twin sister. Pure evil. Happy?
“Not particularly.”
At least you’ll have some new material for your novel.
“Great.”
Am I in there somewhere?
“No.”
Oh, I bet I am. I bet I’m all over it. I bet I give you writer’s block.
“What the hell does that mean?”
You wouldn’t know what to do with me. You never did.
He shoves a book onto the shelf, fuming. “I know what to do with you . . .”
Please.You have no idea. Just like your little girlfriend in there.
“She has a boyfriend.”
Oh, yes, I’m sure that’s what’s stopping you.
He stands back from the shelves and picks up the list.
Done the Ds?
“Yeah.”
Now the Es.
Emma enters with another cart full of books.
Right on cue.
“All right,” Emma says. “Finally done. You still want some help?”
Here’s your shot.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Now say what you want to say.
Emma starts filing books with Steven. “Have any plans for the weekend?” she asks.
Oooh, she wants it bad . . .
“I’m not sure yet,” Steven says, trying to ignore his counterpart. “How about you?”
I think we know what she wants to do . . .
“I was thinking of catching a movie tomorrow night.”
Don’t drop the ball . . .
“Which movie?”
Does it matter?
“I can’t remember. The one where things blow up.”
Your favourite kind.
“I take it your boyfriend picked it?”
“No, we broke up.”
Steven and his counterpart turn towards Emma. “Really . . .”
“Yeah.”
That’s amazing.
“That’s too bad,” Steven says, putting the book in his hands on the desk.
Emma stops filing as well. “It was a long time coming.”
Interesting . . .
“You seemed so happy.”
“Well . . .”
The Mensa model starts imitating Emma: “It was complicated.”
“It was kind of complicated . . .”
“I really liked him.”
“I really liked him, it’s just . . .”
“He didn’t like himself.”
“He didn’t like himself, you know . . .”
“He was really insecure.”
“He was really insecure, and after a while . . .”
“He started taking it out on me.”
“He started taking it out on me . . .”
“I just had to end it.”
“And I just had to end it.”
“Oh.”
Remind you of anyone?
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m all right,” Emma says. “It’s never easy . . .”
I’ll translate into Honesty. She wants a rebound.
“I know what you mean,” Steven says.
Good, good. Keep it coming.
“You’re with someone so long . . .” Emma says.
“You forget what it’s like to be alone.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Good. Play the “sensitive” angle.
“You forget who you were without them . . .” Steven says.
Okay, not that sensitive.
“ . . . and it’s takes so long to get that back.”
Now you just sound like a pussy.
“I know,” Emma says. “Even when you’re the one who ends it.”
Never mind. You two are perfect for each other.
Steven looks up at the shelves. Emma examines the list.
“Done the Es,” Emma says cheerfully.
Now the Fs.
“So what’s that movie about?” Steven asks.
The Mensa model hangs her head in frustration. He pretends not to notice.
“Oh, it’s just a dumb action film.”
Translation: “Stop asking stupid questions and ask me out.”
“Who’s in it?” Steven asks.
Translation: “I want to have sex with you, but I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it.”
“I can’t really remember.”
“And it doesn’t matter. I just want someone with a penis to join me.”
“Uh, would you . . .” Steven begins.
“Yeah?”
“ . . . uh, let me know how it is?”
Jesus.
“Oh. Sure,” Emma says, clearly disappointed. You’re pathetic.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up though.” Emma looks indecisively at a book, then at Steven, then down the hall. “I think I forgot something,” she says. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
She leaves. Steven watches her walk away. The Mensa model shakes her head slowly.
“Don’t say anything,” Steven tells her, resuming his work.
You want to know why I dumped you? That was it.
Steven sighs. “Just because we work together doesn’t mean we’re soulmates.”
Ask her out, you stupid child.
“Why? Just to find out she isn’t who I think she is? To find out she’s like you? No, thanks.”
You’re a joke, you know that? All your grand aspirations, all your plans to nowhere—
“Leave me alone.”
No courage. No self-respect—
“Stop it,” he orders, picking up another book.
I didn’t dump you.You dumped yourself. The moment you thought, “I’m not good enough,” you were finished.
“Enough!” He slams the book on the ground and turns to her. “I’m a fucking librarian. I’m not Joyce. I’m not a great writer. I’m a goddamn graduate student—”
You can be whoever you—
“Bullshit! You said it yourself. My contribution to the world will be a useless analysis of an unreadable book. And I’m okay with that. You’re the one who’s terri
fied of failure, of mediocrity. I’m fine with what I am.”
He goes back to work.
She continues to watch him closely. You sure about that?
He turns to her. “You know, there’s a reason that there are a dozen new books on Joyce every year. There’s a reason people write them. Even if no one reads them.”
He turns away and starts working.
Emma returns with an armful of books and drops them on the table. “Almost forgot about these.”
“Do you want to go out with me?” Steven asks.
Emma smiles, speechless, then laughs nervously.
Well done.
The Mensa model grins a final grin and retreats into the shadows of the stacks. Her porn-and-dildo-filled cart vanishes, along with the easy-chair in the corner and the surrounding pile of papers and books.
Emma steps towards him flirtatiously.
“Unless,” Steven says, “you don’t think librarians should date.”
“I’m not a librarian.”
“Neither am I.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to my parents, Raf, Yash, Michael Cummings, Chris Needham, Michael Winter, and everyone else who made this book possible.
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