Chapter 1

1

MABEL

“I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” I say.

“I don’t know how.”

“I’ll help you. Here.” I take control of the computer mouse. “First, we open Word. Then we click on File… then Blank Document. There.”

“Okay.” Mrs. Melvin takes a deep breath. “Now what?”

“Just type what you want to say.”

I step back to give her privacy to create her document.

“Don’t go!” Her head jerks around.

The other library patrons at the rows of computers look up at us.

I smile. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here if you need me.”

She nods and faces the monitor again and starts typing.

“Now what?”

I move closer again. “We have to save it. We go to File again…” I point on the monitor and she moves the cursor and clicks. “Then Save As… you need to name it.”

“I don’t know what to name it.”

“Let’s call it Melvin letter… good… we’ll save it to the desktop.”

“I don’t see that.” She sounds almost ready to cry.

“Click browse…” I gently guide her through the process, then help her access her email online and send the document. This takes longer. I glance at the clock on the bottom of the monitor. I’m scheduled for story time at ten-thirty in the children’s section and it’s almost that time.

She sends the email, but doesn’t attach the document, so we do it again. Then it’s done!

“There! You did it!”

The tiny lady beams up at me. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

I delete her document from the computer for her, then quickly return to the desk to get my books for story time as my co-worker Jemal grins. “That took a while. You’re so patient.”

I smile. “I guess. She’s sweet. Okay, I’ll be in the children’s section.”

I trot to the back of the library where a group of kids are gathered. I’ve never been worried about making a fool of myself, much to my family’s dismay, so for the next half hour I make monkey noises and dance like a giraffe and sing off-key.

My day at Sherrinford Public Library is busy and full of helping more people with technology, assisting them with job applications or job search activities, and finding research materials. I also direct a lot of people to the bathrooms.

In between helping people, I push in chairs, pick up slips of paper from the floor, make sure there are no empty chip bags or Starbucks cups left around, and straighten the shelves. Then it’s time to go home.

I love my job.

We live close enough to the library that I can walk home. The January air is chilly and my pace is brisk down tree-lined streets, their branches winter-bare. Yesterday’s snow has been cleared from the sidewalks and streets and is already melting. I turn at the walk to our house, in a new development here in Sherrinford, Pennsylvania. I prefer older neighborhoods and houses with character, but my boyfriend, Julian, lived in this newbuild when we met, and I moved in with him about a year ago.

My stomach tightens as I near our home.

Julian’s a professor of anthropology at Penn State. He’s smart and smooth and handsome. When we met, I couldn’t believe he was interested in me . But lately, I feel like his attraction has turned to annoyance. I don’t understand why. He’s so critical all the time, even though I’ve been trying to tone down my quirks so I don’t upset him, and trying to be understanding and supportive of his stressors.

Julian arrives home not long after I do. With my music playing, I glue on a smile and dance over to him to kiss him hello, ignoring his head shake. We share how our days went as we make dinner together. But when I tell him about Mrs. Melvin, he shakes his head. “People are idiots.”

“She’s not an idiot. She just doesn’t know how to use technology.”

“People need to learn. That’s the way the world is now.”

“I know, that’s why I spent so much time showing her how to do it.”

“That shouldn’t even be part of your job.”

“Well, it is.” I smile, but on the inside I’m frowning. “You just said that’s the way the world is now. There’s a lot more to being a librarian than checking out books. The library is a safe place for people to learn that stuff.”

More than a few times, Julian has questioned my career choice. He thinks librarians should be quiet, serious, and orderly. That is not me.

So not me.

I mean, I take my job seriously. I can be professional and quiet when I have to be. But that’s not my normal state. I’m the person who misplaces things, who has no control over my social calendar. But I’m better than I used to be!

“Did you know the real name for a hashtag is octothorpe?” I ask Julian as I measure rice.

“No. Is that what you wore to work today?”

I look down at my long flowered skirt and chunky sweater. I’ve taken off my Doc Marten boots, but I wear those almost every day. “Yeah.”

“You need to dress more professionally. Clothes like that make you look unserious. You’ll never get promoted if you dress like a hippy.”

My laugh is short, since I applied for a promotion a while back and didn’t get it. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind and I don’t want to be promoted.”

“Of course you do. Everyone wants to move up.”

He wants to move up. Promotion to full professor is all he talks about. After that, he has his sights set on department head.

I shrug and turn on the stove.

“Wear something more suitable when we go to Tim’s place for dinner this weekend.”

My insides twist. Wear something more suitable. I nod slowly as I turn on the stove.

Tim is head of the Department of Anthropology and Julian’s obsessed with impressing his boss and team at this dinner. Which means I have to dress “suitably.” Oof.

“Wait, when is that dinner?” I ask.

“Saturday. I told you weeks ago.”

Crappleberries . “I know.” I bite my lip. “But that’s Bellamy’s birthday party.”

“That same night?” He turns incredulous eyes on me. “You just realized that now?”

I suck my bottom lip and nod. “I’m sorry. Somehow, I thought your faculty dinner was Friday night.”

“Jesus, Mabel. Could you get it together for once?”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Well, you’ll have to miss her party.”

“No. I can’t miss it. She’s my best friend. We’ve never missed each other’s birthdays in over ten years. And her mom just died.” Well, six months ago, but Bell’s been having a hard time with it.

His eyebrows jerk together. “You can’t miss this dinner. What will people think if you don’t come with me?”

“They’ll think I had a prior engagement.” I attempt a placating smile. “It’s not personal. Just tell them that.”

“Oh hell, no. You’re not missing this dinner.”

I roll my lips in and look away. The oil in the pan is smoking. I grab the pieces of chicken I cut up and dump them in. They sizzle and hiss, oil splatters, and a haze of smoke billows into the air.

The smoke detector goes off.

“Mabel!” Julian shouts over the ear-piercing shrieking. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry! I was distracted. You distracted me.” I pull the pan off the burner and frantically wave a towel to disperse the smoke.

“Fuck. Now you’ve ruined our dinner.”

“It’s not ruined.” I stir the chicken, blinking back tears.

“Are you crying?”

“No. The smoke hurt my eyes.”

“Don’t try to manipulate me with tears to get out of going to that dinner. It won’t work.”

Impotent anger simmers in my stomach and I focus through a blur on stir-frying the chicken.

“You don’t need to go to Bellamy’s party,” he continues. “She lives too far away. You should make friends here in town.”

“I have friends here in town,” I say quietly. “But she’s my best friend.”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “If you really love me, Mabel, you’ll come to the faculty dinner. You know how important it is to me.”

“Let’s talk about this later. Is the rice done?” I change the subject.

I don’t know when later is going to be because I’m not going to miss my best friend’s birthday. But I want to keep the peace. So for the rest of the week, I avoid talking about it. Until Saturday morning.

“Have you decided what you’re wearing to dinner tonight?” Julian asks me.

My insides twist painfully because I know what’s coming. “I’m not going to the dinner.”

“Oh, fuck. Here we go again.”

“I promised Bellamy I’d be there. She’s been having a rough time. I want to be there for her.”

“Mabel. If you don’t come to this dinner… we’re done.”

My head snaps up. I meet his eyes. His are cool and steady.

“That’s crazy.”

“Oh, I’m the crazy one? I don’t think so.”

I swallow thickly. My throat burns, my insides feel frozen and empty, and my muscles won’t move.

When I met Julian, he was instantly attracted to me. I’d never had much luck with guys; I’m just a bit different. Here was a man – intelligent, handsome, sophisticated, and successful – who was interested in me. It was heady and uplifting. We entered into a whirlwind relationship where he showered me with flowers and gifts and compliments, telling me he’d never met anyone like me, that I was his soul mate, that I understood him so much better than anyone. My family was happy. They like Julian.

Then things started changing. He questioned things about me. I love to dance but he says I’m embarrassing, my clothes are unprofessional, and my friends are boring. But his biggest issue is with me watching hockey. He thinks it’s barbaric and boring. But my brother is a professional hockey player. I grew up watching him play and I’ll always cheer him on.

When I tried to talk to Julian about these things, he told me he acted like that because he cared about me. When he got controlling, it was because he was afraid to lose me. It didn’t make sense, but yet I liked that he cared about me. He’d remind me how good things were when we started dating, and he was right. He told me he’d been in more relationships than I had, and this was how it worked. I started to feel invisible, and yet I still felt lucky to be with him. To be wanted.

Now, I regard him somberly. A flock of sparrows flaps their wings in my midsection. “I’m going to Bellamy’s party. And if that means, we’re done… then we’re done.”

He blinks. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it.”

“Mabel. Come on. Aren’t I more important to you than her?”

What a question to ask. Asking me to say who’s more important in my life. And maybe even a month ago I would have said him. I should say him, right? The man I love? But… I can’t. “No, Julian. Not when you ask me questions like that. Not when you give me ultimatums. I’m not doing this anymore.”

His face reddens. “Mabel, you’re being ridiculous.”

I hate how he says my name. I try not to punch him in the face. “No. I’m not. I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“What about me?” he demands. “What about my career?”

“Your career will be fine.”

“You would seriously end things between us over this? Come on.”

“I seriously would.”

“Nobody else will ever love you. You’re so flaky.”

I wince at the shaft of pain lancing through me. It hurts because… because… I’m afraid it’s true. I’m so fucking terrified that everything he says about me is true. My insides turn cold and shivery, and for a few seconds, my resolve wavers. Then I lift my chin. “You’re trying to change me. And I won’t do that. I won’t be someone I’m not for a man.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Well, have fun being alone for the rest of your life.”

I stay with Bellamy in Philadelphia that night.

After the party at a trendy restaurant with friends, we go back to her place and I tell her everything that happened this morning. And that has been happening for months. She’s not surprised.

“One time I was visiting you and we were going out for dinner and he told you to go change. I hated that.” She presses her lips together.

“You told him I looked beautiful. You stuck up for me.”

“I tried. It didn’t help. And there were other times, too. I hated him.”

“You never told me.” I regard her sadly over the rim of my wine glass, both of us curled up on her couch, now in our pajamas.

“I tried to hint at it, but you got defensive of him, and it seemed like you really loved him.”

“I did love him.” My bottom lip pushes sadly out. “I loved how things were at first. But then he changed. Slowly. I told myself he needed me. You know, he didn’t have the best upbringing. His dad was really hard on him.”

She nods.

“And I always sensed that underneath his confidence was some serious lack of self-esteem. But when I tried to be supportive and understanding, it was never enough. I think I was love-bombed. He was so charming at first. Then it fades away and they start tearing you down.”

“Oh, Mabel.”

I look up and see her shiny eyes and quivering bottom lip.

“I hate that you went through that. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to make you see what was happening.”

One corner of my mouth hitches up. “It probably wouldn’t have worked. I probably would have been mad at you. I needed to see it for myself. And no worries about me doing it again. I’m not going to change who I am for a man.” I repeat what I told Julian. I’ve repeated it to myself many times now.

Bellamy nods her approval.

“But what if no man is ever going to accept me for who I am?”

Now she clucks with disapproval. “Not every man is like Julian.”

“I know. And I don’t need a man to be fulfilled.”

Bellamy nods. “I agree with that. But I do think you’ll find the right man. The man who’ll accept you and worship your crazy questions and love of books and research and your funky wardrobe. Along with your big heart and empathy and energy.”

She lifts her wine glass in a toast and my heart expands in my chest at her words. I don’t know if I believe that. But I do know that right now, I’m done with men.