That same Saturday afternoon, I snuggled up with my laptop and a steaming cup of coffee in my favourite armchair to set my plan in motion. If Conny wouldn't finish Luca's story, I could. But it turned out it wasn't as easy as I had hoped to find a start.
For about twenty minutes, I stared at my blank screen, waiting for inspiration. My mind remained as empty as the document I had titled 'Luca's Dream—The End.' Was this how the infamous writer's block felt? I'd never experienced something similar while working on my thesis. But that had been before my recent dip in self confidence and being abandoned by the man I loved—and who had sworn he loved me back.
With an exhausted sigh, I went to the kitchen to fetch a refill for my cup, pushed my self pity away and mulled about my writing project while I waited for the water to boil. Where to begin? At the point Conny stopped, of course, but rereading her last paragraph didn't trigger the word flow.
Back in my chair, I stared at my screen, took a deep breath, and typed four words.
'Luca,' and beneath it 'happily ever after.'
That was as much as I could squeeze out of my mushy brain. Not a promising start, since for the story to have a happy ending, the protagonist would have to meet a love interest first. Someone he cared for and was looking forward to spend time with—like Conny and Paco. I sighed and ran my hands through my tangled curls.
What kind of protagonist would I be able to relate to? It had to be someone I felt Luca deserved, some person I could trust to not hurt his feelings, not like Oliver had done to me. After all, it was my Luca I was writing about here, and I wanted for him to experience a happy ending.
What if I made her or him a librarian? This would allow me to bring in a few of my own recent adventures. Perhaps it would be easier if I wrote about a place I was familiar with. Besides, I always had the option to rely on Cat as an inspiration for the snark in the story.
I typed a few more words, a first sentence, hesitated, then added a second. My coffee grew cold while I outlined a scene. This wasn't a full chapter yet, but my attempt picked up where Conny had abandoned the manuscript and introduced a female as a potential love interest for Luca—hooray, I had made a start.
While I slurped my cold coffee, I reread my words, cringing at the typos and fixing some on the go. And then I realised out of the blue there was a way to tie in the scene with a chance encounter Luca had at the beginning of the story. Was it possible Conny had planned for the shy girl he'd met in a coffee shop becoming his girlfriend all along? I couldn't know and didn't want to ask her, but once I made the connection, it became easy to let Luca meet the girl again at the bus stop in front of the library where she worked. Of course, I had to bring kitty along, since this was the narrator. Why would Luca wait at the bus stop with his kitten? Okay, he was on the way to the vet.
From there, the words formed a whirlwind in my head and let my fingers dance over the keys while ideas popped up like mesmerising soap bubbles. I kept typing away, afraid to interrupt the flow and not bothering with details as long as I was in the right mood. Virtual page after page filled with my writing while I lost track of the time and the world around me.
To my surprise, it was already dark outside when a pang of hunger urged me to stop. I saved my work, exhausted but enthusiastic, to fix dinner. While I wolfed down a generous portion of the vegetable curry I'd bought on my way home, I reread what I had written. The style didn't fit Conny's as well as I wished, and the text needed a lot of work until it would flow with the desired ease, but for my first go, I was happy with the outcome. Fiction writing proved to be more fun than I had expected.
I continued my work after dinner and didn't stop until my eyes burned and I made more errors than progress. Before I interrupted my writing spree close to one o'clock in the morning, I noted down a few ideas, hoping this would help me back into the right mindset the next day. There was no reason to worry, though. I slept like a baby and woke late, eager to continue. Towards noon, I had three chapters down and an outline for the rest of the novel.
Instead of applying for new jobs, as I had planned to, I spent every free minute of my weekend at the keyboard, filling in the gaps, editing, and elaborating on the story.
Back in the library on Monday, I didn't dare mention what I had been up to Conny, Cat, or Luca, afraid to raise the hopes of the latter and unsure of how the former two would react. In the evenings, I continued plotting and writing. On Wednesday, I met Becca for lunch, but avoided talking about my current venture either. She knew something was up, though.
"Why are you so giddy, girl? Did you meet someone?"
Of course, this would be Becca's first thought. "No, I didn't, and I already told you I'm not in a hurry to replace Olly, the cheating sod."
"Well, I haven't seen you so upbeat in a while. If it's just because you're getting over the prick, I think felicitations are in order."
"Thanks, Becca. Yes, I think I haven't dreamed of him for five nights in a row. That's a kind of record we should celebrate." She agreed and at least stopped digging further after that. Half an hour later, I returned to the library with a smug smile, ready to entertain the kids with another chapter of Charlotte's Web. As usual, Luca listened in to my reading and I wished I could tell him about my progress with his story. But it wasn't the right time yet.
My daily meetings with Cat and Luca fuelled my ideas and pushed me to add several hundred words to Luca's story every evening. The following Sunday afternoon, I finished the first draft. The text needed more editing, of course, but a few long night shifts later, I had a passable story.
Aware the work was still far from perfect but exhausted beyond my experience, I called it a day. Since the manuscript wasn't meant for publishing—or for being read by anyone except me—I hoped it would do.
Wednesday morning, when Conny had her half day off, I printed my part of the story and placed the now thicker stack of loose sheets into her desk atop the first aid kit. While I closed the drawer, I wondered if I was about to make a fool of myself. Could this even work? If it did, it wouldn't matter where I stowed the manuscript, as long as it remained in the friction zone, right? Perhaps I should hide it closer to the hot spot in the classic section for maximal impact. This had also the advantage that Conny wouldn't find the manuscript and destroy it.
I retrieved the text, slipped it into a large envelope, fetched Paco's folding ladder, and placed the story atop the last shelf in the classic section, close to the wall and well out of sight.
For the rest of the day, I watched out for Cat or Luca, waiting for the latter's reaction, but in vain. He didn't turn up, and neither did he drop by on Thursday or Friday. When I found Cat snuggling on the sofa on Saturday morning, I slumped down beside him.
He raised his head to scrutinise me with quivering whiskers. "Why the long face, my favourite assistant librarian?"
"Have you seen Luca lately?"
He rolled over, showing me his belly fur, and purred like an innocent kitten. "No, I haven't—not since you've set him free."
"Did I? How can you be sure my experiment worked to his best?"
"I can't, since you never told me what you did."
"I wrote an ending to his story, but cannot tell if this affected him at all."
Cat closed his fascinating eyes, as if he were thinking hard. "So, you manipulated his existence for real. I was almost sure it could only have been you."
"As if you didn't pressure me to do something."
"I merely suggested, my dear Lynn."
I was about to tell him how persuasive his suggestions were, but didn't bother. "Is there anything you can tell me about his whereabouts?"
"Sorry, Lynn. Since he disappeared and didn't show up in the library for two days in a row, whatever you did certainly changed something. I also checked the other plane, but couldn't find a trace of him. This isn't saying much though, since our home is not as easy to overview as this place."
I still couldn't imagine what Cat's home looked like, but hoped Luca wasn't wandering through a dark labyrinth or something worse as a reaction to my intervention. "Do you think he's alright?"
"Now, I can't know what your version of the story had in store for him, but since you seem rather fond of him, I reckon you didn't kill him off?"
I creased my brow. "Of course not, silly. I gave my best at writing a happy end for him, with him meeting a nice girl, they falling in love and all that jazz. Still, I'd like to know if he is fine and if this turned out well for him."
Cat sat up and blinked. "I can't help you there, sorry. This whole development is a first for me too. But be assured that whatever you did, it set Luca free."
"I hope it did, and yet I miss talking to him." That was an understatement. I missed his laughter and exchanging book recommendations, his dimples, his unruly hair standing up when he ran his hands through it, and his soft smile when he found something I said adorable. "Do you think he will return here, some day?"
"Who knows? If you read his story aloud, or if you think of him hard, he might. But then, his story would have to be a bestseller to draw him into a friction zone for sure."
Disappointed, I lowered my gaze. "I didn't get time to say goodbye and wish him luck."
Cat curled up and blinked. "Neither did I, but if you did a good job with his story, he is off on a new adventure, and wasn't this the reason you did it? This knowledge must be enough for the two of us."