Chapter Twenty

Charlie was going to miss the quiet of the library when she finally turned in her badge. With just a few weeks left until that day, she soaked in her time behind the desk, interacting with students and reshelving books. Something about the weight of the hardcovers in her hand anchored her during a time she felt adrift. In fact, she noticed herself lingering beyond the hours of her shift, pitching in at the circular reference desk, which also kept her from sitting alone in her apartment where her emotions would swarm.

"You're extra quiet today," Emerson said, offering her a shoulder bump.

She smiled. "I noticed that, too. I apologize. Still not quite myself."

"I know," Emerson said simply. "And that's okay." She rested a hand on the return cart. "Any job leads?"

"One." After she'd turned down the Broadland Rhodes opportunity, refusing to be beholden to someone as manipulative as Monica showed herself to be, she'd scoured the internet for anything that would keep her in her field of study while she continued to develop her manuscript. "There's an instructor position at Littleton University, not far from Brooklyn. The course load is manageable, and I'd still have plenty of time to write."

"And it's still New York."

Charlie shrugged. "Dream-adjacent? Let's go with that."

The truth was she was excited by the idea. It wasn't the glamorous path she'd imagined, but she enjoyed the classroom and all the details seemed to align.

"You would rock that job. You're an inspiring instructor."

"Thank you. I have a final interview next week." She checked her watch. "And I've been here an extra two hours." She sighed. "I should head home."

"The books will miss you. Me, too."

She reached for Emerson, pulled her into a tight hug because she felt like it. Their friendship had become an unexpected bright spot that she refused to take for granted.

"Be safe out there. It's dark."

Charlie shrugged. "Not too far a walk to my place. Plus, it's nice out. I'm going to enjoy it." The library, to her detriment, was kept exceptionally cool, which meant emerging into the warmth of the spring air was like a welcome embrace. She descended the stairs with a small smile, pausing only when she saw a familiar face sitting on the bench nearby. For a split second, her heart soared seeing Taryn waiting there, transported back in time to when she'd wait for Charlie, scoop her up, and they'd head off to dinner or home or anywhere they could just be them. It wasn't long before reality came crashing through. Her instinct was to keep walking, but Taryn was too quick.

"Hi."

"Hi," Charlie said, eyeing Taryn. She'd cut her hair by about three inches. It looked good on her, more mature in a way. She'd never say so. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you. I was hoping we could catch up. Can I maybe walk you home?"

"I don't think that's a great plan. But thank you." She walked away then, heart in her throat. She hadn't seen Taryn since their intense discussion in front of the foreign language building. She wanted to say that all that happened had erased her feelings, but they'd just roared to life the second Taryn looked her in the eyes.

Taryn was there the next night, too. Her eyes were hopeful, and she stood as Charlie approached. "Taryn, you should be out living your life. What are you doing at the library at ten o'clock?"

"I'm showing up in a way I should have shown up weeks ago. And I'm going to keep showing up because that's what you do for people you love."

Charlie shook her head, and her warring emotions went to battle until her brain overruled all. No, don't get caught up again. It didn't matter how beautiful Taryn looked, how sweet she was, or how much Charlie ached for her. This was a dangerous scenario for a heart that had been absolutely crushed. "Good night, Taryn."

"Good night."

She opened the door two mornings later to a delivery driver holding a to-go cup. "Dessert coffee for Charlie?"

She nodded and accepted the hot coffee knowing exactly who had sent it, and there, scrawled across the cup were the words: I hope your day is amazing. –T.

It didn't end there. A bouquet of wildflowers arrived, unruly and wonderful in their arrangement. She left them on her kitchen counter instead of throwing them out. The beautiful chaos reminded Charlie of the two of them, and the way they'd come together in such a beautiful fashion but ended in an out-of-control jumble. It began to resonate with her that Taryn was thinking about her each of the days that she was thinking about Taryn. They were living parallel struggles, two people hurting at the same time. She believed fully that Taryn missed her, but she believed even more fully that for self-preservation purposes, she had to shelve any thought of rebuilding what they had.

"Back again," she said when she found Taryn sitting on the bench the next week.

"Letting me walk you home isn't going to change anything."

Charlie shrugged. "I suppose that's true."

Taryn didn't hesitate when Charlie inclined her head the slightest bit, and Taryn fell into step beside her. "How was the library today?"

"Pretty desolate. Everyone wants to be outside."

"I've been taking long walks. It's kind of my new thing."

"It is?" How strange to not know these kinds of details about someone who had been her everything not so very long ago.

"Yeah. It helps me clear my head and plan my week."

"Like what kind of delivery is coming to my house next?"

"Those are improvised," Taryn said, touching her heart. The sincerity of her tone pulled Charlie. Gone were the jokes, deadpans, and quips. Today, Taryn was present and calm and stripped down. "Are you ready to graduate?" she asked, eyes on the ground as they walked.

"Yes and no. I'm ready for the next chapter, but I have a lot of history here. A lot of memories." They'd fallen in love here.

"I see us all over campus."

"Me, too," Charlie said.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, and when Charlie was delivered to her door, Taryn raised a hand. "Thank you for this. For letting me walk with you."

Charlie lifted her shoulders. "I got tired of seeing the sad girl on the bench."

"I'd say my plan worked, but that's not what this is. I love you, and I'm gonna keep showing up."

Their walks from the library became a regular occurrence, and though Charlie didn't want to examine it too closely, she was beginning to look forward to the six minutes she got with Taryn. They touched on their days and plans for the summer and, once in a while, checked in on how the other was feeling about things.

"Do you miss us?" Taryn asked one night when they landed on Charlie's doorstep.

"More than you'll know," Charlie said. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to invite you in."

"Nor do I deserve to be. But guess what?" Taryn grinned. The first time in a while. God, Charlie had missed that smile. It was honestly everything.

"You're gonna keep showing up."

"Nailed it. 'Night, Charlie."

"Good night, Taryn."

Charlie's days on campus were growing short, and realizing that there would be no more six-minute walks with Taryn tugged at her. She didn't have the courage to leap back in, but at the same time the idea of saying good-bye to Taryn forever was enough to keep her awake at night. She needed guidance, some sort of sign to direct her onto the right path. "Any help, Mom?" she whispered into her darkened bedroom at two a.m. "Let me know where I'm supposed to be in this world, okay? Send an arrow sign. I need you."

Though her mother couldn't be at her graduation, it seemed the rest of the world's population was. Charlie, in green cap and gown, sat with the rest of her classmates on one of the most monumental days of her life. She'd completed her MFA, and nothing, she could safely say, had ever been as educational…or painstaking.

"I'm too excited to breathe," Emerson said, squeezing Charlie's hand from the seat next to hers. Her face went serious. "No. Literally, I keep forgetting to."

"Em, stop that. Air is required if you want to make it to that stage."

"Finally here, fuckers," Lawson said. "Never thought we'd all make it out alive."

"Emerson hasn't yet," Charlie offered. "She's not breathing."

"Nothing's ever easy with you all," Danny said with a shake of his above-it-all head.

Quietly, Charlie reveled. As one speech moved into the next, it became more of a reality that she'd made it to the finish line of three very demanding years. Sadness settled, however, when she realized that she didn't have a cheering section of her own. No parents or grandparents to cheer when her name was called. And that was okay. It wasn't anything she hadn't prepared for, but the poignancy of the moment made it all the more noticeable.

And then it was their turn. Her row, full of her friends and classmates from the creative writing trenches, walked to the stage and waited as one by one their names were called. As Charlie stood on the second stair waiting to move forward, she scanned the crowd of thousands in the arena, intent on taking in the image and memorizing the moment. There were balloons, flowers, and signs in abundance. Families sitting close together poised to support their loved ones. In the distance, a white sign pulled her focus, a giant arrow sign pointing to its owner. She smiled and then froze. She ascended to the next stair as her mind registered what she was looking at. Taryn stood in front of her chair, holding up a sign that said ProudHuman with a huge downward-pointing arrow sign beneath. She ascended the final stair to the stage as it all came together.

"You sent my arrow sign, Mama," she murmured. She looked out, and Taryn met her gaze and smiled. Taryn tossed a celebratory fist in the air, and so did the man next to her, who Charlie was now realizing was Mr. Ross…who was seated next to Mrs. Ross. Taryn's parents jumped and waved. They'd come there for her. Her. She wasn't alone after all.

"Charlotte Adler," the announcer said. She beamed and, with tears in her eyes, crossed the stage, knowing that there were people in the audience sending love and support. In fact, she felt it all over. She posed with her diploma for the official photographer, returned to her seat, and let every inch of her vibrate with happiness. For once, she didn't reel the positivity back in but let it wash over her in a warm glow. Her mom was with her today, and sending the clear-as-day sign she'd asked for. Literally.

"We did it," Emerson said.

"We sure did," Charlie answered. "I can hardly believe it's real."