Between the Stacks

Chapter 50

Sierra, in the end, didn't tell us anything.

Not that I'd ever tipped off a reporter before. Was there a certain etiquette between whistleblowers and the reporters who desperately wanted a story? Wesley texted Sierra occasionally over the next two weeks, and he never heard back.

For a while I existed in a strange limbo space, one without a set schedule or anything concrete. I'd set up a meeting with the union to discuss my firing, but that was still a while away, and in the meanwhile I had a whole lot of time to fill. I spent most of it sanitizing my apartment, which had become rather hovel-esque after my initial firing. I washed my Mount Everest of clothes, mopped the floors, and threw out the containers of take-out (which may or may not have started growing new life forms of bacteria).

I saw on Facebook that Mr. Oodles of Noodles was officially retiring, and Jack was moving forward as "a musical act geared towards grown-ups." I didn't have the heart to tell him that adults didn't usually refer to themselves as grown-ups. Then again, if he'd written that he was an "adult-oriented performer," those hordes of women might get the wrong idea. I wrote a quick comment - Congrats, wishing you all the best! - and I was surprised that I actually meant it. If it hadn't been for Jack, Wesley and I might never have gotten together.

(When I told him about Jack, Wesley said, "I hope they play Catan in hell," so I wasn't sure if Wesley really ever got over Jack's rudeness when playing board games.)

Somewhere near my third week after not (!) burning down the Main branch of the library, I finally received the text I'd so desperately wanted.

Okay. I miss you. Can we meet?

It was Matteo. I was out the door before I remembered that I was still in my pajama bottoms, the ones with the little rubber ducks. I ran back inside, quickly changed, and waited for the bus in the unrelenting sun.

---

I spotted Matteo at the back of the new Sunrise restaurant. "I know you're dating Wesley," he said, before I had the chance to sit down. "I figured it out."

"Um," I said, using every last brain cell I had.

Matteo waved me towards the chair. "I want to be mad. I wish you'd told me." Then he smiled. "But it's you, and I can't be mad forever. Now I just want the details."

I shook my head. "I want to start by offering you my soul for missing the opening of this place. It looks great."

It really did. Whereas the first Sunrise location next to the library had a certain rugged charm, this one took advantage of the large windows that looked over the river. The light reflected the gleaming wooden tables where families were eating their lunches (or, in the case of a few exhausted-looking students, hangover brunches).

"I was bummed in the moment," Matteo admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But Melissa told me about everything. The firing, the spreadsheets. I think I'm the one that needs to apologize. I was so upset about my thing that I wasn't upset about your thing."

"I think we can both be upset." Then, looking down, I realized Matteo had already ordered fries for us. The fact that I hadn't noticed immediately was testament to how relieved I was to see Matteo in the first place.

I reached down for a fry. "Cheers?" I said.

"Cheers," Matteo grinned, tapping his own fry against mine.

We managed to munch our way to the bottom of the basket before Melissa rolled in. She took one look at the lack of fries and stuck out her tongue. "None left?"

The advantage of being friends with the owner was that Matteo ordered another free round. (I will not take advantage of this, I chanted to myself, knowing I was lying to myself.)