Kelsey examined her with disbelief. She grabbed a paper plate from Marisa and removed a slice of pizza from the pan. “Yeah, right. Alexander on a Harley.”
“Maybe not Alexander. But Alex? Definitely. He rode up behind me and fixed my tire. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. And I saw it. Can you see why I’m worried?”
Kelsey stared at her intently, waiting for the punch line. When it didn’t come, she said, “Alexander? On a motorcycle? Fixing your tire?”
“Well, no, because doing both at the same time would be difficult. But kind of funny…and pretty dangerous.”
“Get the fuck outta here!”
“Well, I pay the mortgage, so if anybody should leave…”
Kelsey dropped the pizza onto her plate. “You’re serious?”
Finally! At least now Marisa knew that her concerns weren’t the ruminations of a drama queen. “Do you think he’s okay?”
“You reject him and he buys a Harley. What do you think?” An instant later, she covered her mouth, realizing that she hadn’t internalized those remarks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did,” Marisa said in an understanding tone. “He’s your older brother. He’s always looked out for you, and you want to protect him. I get it. And it’s the truth. At least the part about rejecting him. You have no idea how bad it hurts me to know that…I hurt him.”
Kelsey blew out a big breath and massaged her temples. “Dad doesn’t know anything about this. I guarantee it. He’s always wanted Alexander to get a bike. He’d be freaking out with happiness by now. And we’d never hear the end of it.”
“You think it’s a mid-life crisis thing?”
“For a thirty-year-old? I’d call that an almost quarter-life crisis. But no, I think it’s a Marisa-rejected-me thing.”
Marisa felt bad enough about that, but Kelsey didn’t have to rub it in to make her feel guilty. She felt plenty of guilt already, but she couldn’t will herself to view Alex in a new light. And she shouldn’t have to apologize, no matter how good of a friend Kelsey might be.
“You had to know how he felt about you.”
Knowing how much Kelsey loved her brother, Marisa tried to select her words with great care: “Well, I suspected.”
Kelsey grabbed her slice of pizza, acting coy. “Why can’t you think of him that way?” She took a bite, but kept her gaze on the countertop, probably fearing that she had crossed a line that she shouldn’t have.
“You know how women can separate different aspects of themselves: mother, wife, career, and all that? It’s like that. I think of Alex as my best, most trusted friend.” She struggled to find the right way to describe her feelings. “But I can’t—”
“Because he’d be a horrible husband: abusive, uncaring, lying, cheating—”
“You know I don’t think that.”
“And if you two had children?” Kelsey went on, anger making her words come quick. “He’d yell at those poor kids. Or ignore them. Even worse, steal the allowance you gave them each week and gamble it all away – if he wasn’t using it to buy heroin from his crack fiend buddies.”
“Come on, I don’t think—”
“Your kids could forget about going out for ice cream. No, Alex would take them into the inner city, hoping to score some heroine, looking to show them the best things in life at an early age.”
Marisa, feeling her guilt hitting a tipping point, tried to put herself in Kelsey’s place to avoid lashing out at her friend. Instead, Kelsey’s outburst made her start laughing. Through squinty eyes, she saw her friend staring at her in wonder, then she, too, started laughing. The tension between them drifted away. When she calmed down, Marisa said, “I know Alex would be a wonderful husband and father. I just—”
“He’s not a professional sports player or lawyer or doctor or whatever. That must be it. He just doesn’t make enough money. I guess being a librarian, even if he is a library director, is an acceptable career for a woman, but guybrarians might as well be gaybrarians, right? Working in a female-dominated profession?”
And just like that, Kelsey, who now preferred drama to comedy, turned up the conflict factor higher than before. On the verge of saying something she might regret, Marisa limited her words: “I never said that. We should talk about something else.” Satisfied with an effort to shift away from this topic, she took a bite of pizza.
“No you wouldn’t say that he’s gay, but you basically feel that way about him. He’s obviously hideous looking. A real-life Frankenstein or Quasimodo. Walks with a hunched-over limp. Grunts instead of speaks. And politeness? On the streets, every time he cuts in front of some driver, he flicks them the bird out his window. Hell, I’ve seen him knock elderly ladies into the street just because they walked too slowly.”
The images Kelsey conjured made Marisa want to laugh, but she fought the inclination to do so. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.” But she realized that the way Kelsey continued to elevate each exaggeration laced with harsh insinuations made Marisa feel like she had poor judgment and needed to defend herself, notching her temper level way beyond what it should have been. She gritted her teeth to prevent saying something she might regret.
“You have shared the most intimate details of your life with him, spent more time with him than you’ve ever spent with any of your countless boyfriends, who by the way, are a bunch of losers from everything you’ve told me about them – you wouldn’t say it, so I’ll say it so you won’t have to.
Kelsey shook her head, agitated. “You waste your time, energy, and love on people who never return it. And Alexander, your best friend, who would do anything to make you happy – sacrifices his feelings, his time, his everything – only to make sure you live each day with a smile on your face. Yeah, I would hate to find a man like that, too. So I totally get why you prefer all of those worthless assholes. Because you trust them. You know exactly who they are and how they’ll mistreat you, so you’ll never be disappointed. But Alexander? He won’t let you down. And that feels wrong to you, because it must be a lie.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk. You trust everything any guy tells you. Have any of them fallen in love with you? Gee, I wonder why? Maybe they realize that they can do anything or say anything, and you’ll believe everything that comes out of their mouths. You confide your deepest secrets on the first date, for Christ’s sake. They don’t have to earn anything with you: not your trust, not your time, and definitely not what’s between your legs.”
“What, I’m a slut for trusting my heart? For seeking the best in people? Did you ever think that maybe if you believed in others more, they might actually live up to your expectations? That they might care for you because you were more trusting? And for your information, ever since you said that I tend to…get intimate too soon, I haven’t had relations in a very long time. You see, I trust my friends. I trusted what you said.”
“You’re not acting like a friend right now.”
“I’m not attacking you.” Kelsey said, tossing the plate of pizza onto the counter. She left the kitchenette and headed for the exit. “I’m telling you the truth. The truth you’re either too scared or too oblivious to realize.”
“So insults aren’t an attack?”
“Not when they’re the truth.”
Marisa, following Kelsey towards the front door, wanted to remind her friend of all her mistakes and shortcomings. But she had already seemed to lose Alex, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Kelsey too. She dug her fingernails into her palms to create enough pain to offset the criticism that she wanted to hurl at her friend. “I think you better leave.”
“Already got that memo,” Kelsey said, grabbing the doorknob. She opened it a crack but stood in place for a long moment, her back to Marisa. She pulled the door open and turned around, her anger subsiding, perhaps understanding that she, too, didn’t want to lose a confidant. “I trust you.” Her eyes grew glassy. “But why can’t you trust yourself? Why won’t you let your
self be happy?” She waited a moment to let that sink in, then spun around and walked out the door.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On Monday morning, Alex arrived for work to find an attractive blond in her early thirties wearing a red sweater and a black skirt seated in one of the two chairs in the waiting room. A brown leather notebook with a pen clipped to the cover lay on her lap. Alex looked at his administrative assistant, Greta. “I don’t recall making an appointment.”
Greta shook her head. “Local online reporter. Gayle Hart. The Bedford Falls-Vista Heights Times. Here to interview you about…new lending restrictions?” She narrowed her gaze at Alex, an obvious sign of mistrust.
He turned his attention to the reporter. “Alex Lawford. Pleased to meet you.”
Hart rose from her chair, took his hand, and delivered a dazzling smile. “A pleasure. I’d like to hear a little more about the lending restrictions that will be going into effect within the next two weeks.”
Keeping his expression static to prevent Greta from assuming the worst, he gestured towards his office down the hall. “I guess I can spare a few minutes.”
“Wonderful.”
Alex led her into his office and closed the door behind them. “Please have a seat,” he said, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk. After she did so, he curved around the desk and took a seat. “What’s this about lending restrictions?” He doubted that anyone from Bedford Falls had contacted the press about their new lending policy, and Alex didn’t want to lend credence to what might be construed as hearsay.
She removed a tape recorder from her stylish black and silver Coach purse. She hit the record button. “Yes, the new lending policy that the Bedford Falls Public Library has just instituted. I’m told the policy will go into effect on November first. I’d like to know how you predict that will affect your library.”
“And where did you hear about this?”
“I’m an investigative reporter. It’s my job. And part of my job is protecting my sources.” She crossed shapely legs covered in black fishnet stockings. Catching Alex sneaking a peek, Hart gave him a patronizing look. “We both know the Bedford Falls Board signed off on these new restrictions. Once again, how do you predict this decision will affect the Vista Heights Public Library?”
Alex hadn’t even had time to speak with his department heads about this topic, and if he talked with an online reporter before discussing the issue with his staff, they would lose all faith in him. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to discuss this matter with you until you schedule an appointment.” He got up from behind his desk and walked toward her, raising his hands to usher her outside, indicating that their discussion had ended.
Hart didn’t budge. “You invited me into your office.”
“And now I’m inviting you to leave.”
She clicked a button on her recorder, packed up her belongings, and placed them inside her purse. “I’ll be going live with this in an hour or two. My article is mostly complete. I only wanted to get a few quotes from you to fill in some of the uncertainties that your patrons will have. I can only imagine that they’ll be pretty upset.” She grinned. “I’ll be sure to make an appointment with your receptionist.” She turned, opened the door, and walked out.
A minute after she left, Alex sat down behind his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed Marisa’s work extension. Perhaps someone from Bedford Falls had inadvertently mentioned their new policy to a friend or relative, and it reached Gayle Hart. It rang five times before her voicemail kicked in. He hung up.
Alex thought he’d have enough time to inform his department heads about Bedford Falls’ upcoming policy change, which would affect their facility (more patrons would visit, increasing wear and tear on their facility), budget (staff would have to be judicious with expenditures), and service (patrons would demand materials they didn’t have and would express their disappointment and irritation, which would affect front-line staff who had to deal with upset customers).
It seemed he had to call an impromptu meeting with his management team, and he suspected that they would blame him for not anticipating that Bedford Falls would institute this change. Just what he needed: an angry community and an angry staff.
*
Marisa entered her new office and heard the phone ringing. She put down her purse and answered it.
“Good morning, it’s Lance. I’d like to see you in my office as soon as possible.”
“I’m on my way.” Her boss hung up before she had a chance to say goodbye, indicating that something was wrong. Lance always engaged in some pleasantries before proceeding to business, and he never failed to say goodbye before ending a call. She took a sip from her morning espresso, exited her office, and went upstairs to meet her boss.
When she entered the administrative office on the third floor, she spotted Esther Rollins sitting straight behind her desk with a wide-eyed look as she typed on her keyboard. Seeing Marisa, she winced and cocked her head toward Lance’s office. “Good luck.”
Marisa’s stomach plummeted. Two possibilities vied to control her actions: one wanted her to turn around and run out of the administrative office; the other, eager to discover what made Esther so anxious, tried to persuade herself to enter Lance’s office.
She followed the latter directive by walking across the office and knocking on the closed door – another bad sign. Her boss always left the door open, unless they were discussing annual reviews, disciplinary meetings, or other confidential matters. Marisa had had her last review about four months ago, and she hadn’t been Assistant Director long enough to have any made mistakes yet. Nonetheless, she tried to swallow, but her tongue made clicking sounds against the bridge of her mouth.
She opened the door to find the Board President, Bob Dubchev, sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Albrecht’s desk. As both men stopped talking to recognize her presence, she felt a chill pass through her as she closed the door. They just looked at her, expecting…what? “Hi, Bob,” she said. “Hi Lance. Is everything all right?”
Lance steepled both hands underneath his lips. “In a word? No.” He met her gaze with a blank expression. “Please have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”
Dubchev eyed her with serious deliberation as she sat down. But he deferred to Lance.
“I’m getting kind of worried,” Marisa said and sat down.
“No reason to be,” Lance said. He pushed his chair closer to the desk. “This weekend, I met with my doctor. He found something on a toxicology screen that…shouldn’t be there. I’ve made an appointment to begin chemotherapy treatments next week.”
Marisa stared at her boss. A veil of sympathy cloaked her. “I’m so sorry.” She entered his office, thinking of herself, only to discover that it was her boss’s life that was on the line. Nothing she might say could convey the sadness she felt for him.
Lance glanced at each of the family photos on his desk. “It’s early-stage prostate cancer. And we’ll try to kill it, God-willing. I guess we’ll find out.”
“As you can imagine,” said, Dubchev, turning to Marisa, “Lance will need to take an extended leave.” He smiled at Lance. “You have thirty years-worth of sick days to take.”
Lance picked up where Dubchev left off by addressing Marisa. “That leaves you in charge. How do you feel about that?”
So many uncertainties flew around her mind with such rapidity that Marisa couldn’t even snag one to determine its meaning. She looked at her boss but didn’t say a thing.
Lance, a small smile playing on his lips, looked at Dubchev. “In six years, this is the first time I’ve seen Marisa speechless. Quick, get a camera.”
Both men broke into laughter, easing some of her self-doubt. “What are you saying?”
“The keys to the kingdom are yours for the taking. You haven’t had much experience when it comes to leading a library, but it’s not something you can completely prepare for. Bob believes in you. I believe in you. The question is…do you believe in yourself?�
��
Marisa recalled her conversation with Kelsey over the weekend. “Yes,” she said with the utmost confidence. “I can do it.” Where did that certainty come from? Had some imposter spoken those words?
“That’s exactly what we hoped to hear,” Lance said. He backed away from his desk and stood up. Dubchev did likewise.
Marisa rose to her feet.
“I expect to be out of commission for at least nine months.” He looked down. “It’s a pretty aggressive treatment. If I can’t get my strength back…”
Dubchev waved off the possibility. “You’ll be back. You can’t stay away from this place.”
Lance traded a knowing glance with Marisa. “I’m sorry to say that tomorrow will be my last day. But I don’t want to waste away sitting at home watching TV and reading when I’m not sleeping and trying to recuperate. I expect to hear from you. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of questions, especially since we’ve had so little time to work together to get you up to speed on your responsibilities. But I’ve heard that, in between treatments, even speaking for longer than a couple minutes might be too exhausting, so I’ll do everything I can to help you from home. Do you have any questions?”
She nodded. “Just one. How do I run the library?”
Her boss laughed, but it died out after a few seconds. “You have a great team here. They’ll help you.”
Marisa cracked the joke to lift his spirits. She’d never had a close bond with her boss, but he never failed to help her, and she hated knowing that soon he’d be fighting for his life. Still, her joke was only somewhat facetious, so she continued. “It’s a team that’s not fully-staffed. We’re down an Adult Services Department Head and an Assistant Director. And now you? Not including my inexperience, we’re down 50 percent of our management team. I think I’ll do a decent job with the day-to-day operation of our staff and facility. That doesn’t concern me. But since you and my predecessor have worked with the accountants, lawyers, and…” she turned to Dubchev, “the Board. I don’t know what I should be looking for when it comes to so many things I don’t know about. What if there is a legal matter we need counsel on? Who do I contact? What happens if—”
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