Between the Stacks

Chapter 44

For a few days, everything was beautiful.

Was this what all the poets rambled on about? Wesley and I spent every evening together, and somehow the flowers seemed brighter, the bus always arrived on time, and I found ten dollars in the pocket of my jeans. The universe conspired to make my day great, and my nights - well, those were even better.

Most of the time we hung out at Wesley's house. He gave me the official grand tour - not just the bedroom - and we walked through all of the wood-paneled rooms. Offhandedly he mentioned that the insurance money from his parents' death, held by his aunt and uncle for so many years, was what had allowed him to make the purchase.

"Kind of sucks, doesn't it?" he said one afternoon. "Living in a nice place only because my parents died."

"They would want you to be comfortable," I said. Wesley closed his eyes but nodded.

Work, surprisingly, wasn't terrible. Matteo was still giving me his I Know Something is Up look, but he was so busy wrapping up his workload that he didn't notice if I blushed when Wesley was within a twenty-foot radius.

Melissa was busy as well, and I noticed that she frantically clicked away from her screen when I dropped by her desk. I was desperate to pry but managed to hold myself back.

On Matteo's last day we threw him a surprise party; when he walked into the staff area he was met with vanilla cake (his favorite), chocolate chip cookies (also his favorite) and Doritos (turned out he had a lot of favorites). I told myself not to cry and immediately failed at my task. I blubbed into his arms, told him he was betraying the library, and made him promise to visit at least twice a week.

When I was younger I read a series of books about a girl with a photographic memory. I was maybe ten or eleven, so this was a Very Cool Skill. I ran around saying "Snap" and pretending to take a picture with my eyes - clearly I wasn't very bright. I thought that if I said "Snap" enough times, I would remember absolutely everything I saw. It never worked.

I wished I had that skill. I wanted to remember absolutely everything: the way Matteo had a piece of cake in his hair; how Wesley's arms looked as he leaned against the doorway; how Melissa swatted Paige the page away from her cake; how the sunlight slanted into the room. If only the moment could be a picture, one where I could step into the image and inhabit it again. I wanted everything to slow down.

I knew that this would be my baseline. For the rest of my career, I would compare my job to these early days, when I worked with the nicest people I had ever met.

Snap.

---

The text message, when it came, was unexpected.

I was in my kitchen, puttering around and wondering if it would be hygienic to make a sandwich on my counter because I was out of plates. My phone pinged just as I decided to go for it.

I've been fired, it said.

My heart briefly stopped as I scanned the name - but it was just an anonymous number that had texted me. Not someone I knew. Not Wesley.

Then I saw that the other person was still writing.

It's Scott, the next message said. I brought up the weird spreadsheets to my boss. Now I've been fired for "insubordinate actions."

"What?" I said out loud, as if my plants were listening. I abandoned my sandwich and sat on my couch, staring at the pixels on the screen.

Are you serious? I texted back. That doesn't make any sense.

My phone buzzed with an incoming call, and I was so surprised that I almost dropped it.

"Wesley gave me your number," Scott said, skipping any introductions. He sounded absolutely wretched, his voice torn and ragged. "I can't believe it."