Libby the Librarian: A Rom Com Novella (8 page)

Dr. Maxwell was not sympathetic.

“You have three personal days coming to you. After that
, it’s leave without pay.”

I’m sure he wouldn’t have given me
those three days, if it hadn’t been mandated university policy.

We finally
made it onto the plane and, as I buckled myself in, I wondered for the first time what Adam’s family was going to think about me showing up like this. I’d been too focused on logistics and Adam’s fragile emotional state to think about that.

“Does your mother know I’m coming?”

“Yes. I told her last night.”

The flight attendant came by and reminded Adam to
return his seatback to the upright position. He needed help finding the button, even though he’d used it just ten minutes before to recline the seat. I decided not to ask any more questions about his mother and what assumptions she might or might not be making about the nature of our relationship.

We got to Dallas. I picked up the rental car.
Adam stayed with the luggage. I worried about leaving him alone, but when I pulled up at the curb, he was right where I’d left him. We got lost on the way to his parent’s house. He said he knew how to get there, but he sent me down several wrong turnings before I convinced him to pull up directions on his phone.

When we finally
arrived, the house was full of people. I’d only met Adam’s parents once, a couple of years ago, when they came out to visit over Thanksgiving. Their Thanksgiving visit had been a one-off. They don’t like to travel. Adam usually goes to see them.

Surprisingly, Adam’s mother seemed to be in better shape than he was. She gave me a big hug and thanked me for making sure her “boy got home safely.” Made me feel like
Adam’s nanny, but I’m sure she meant well. I was worried about Adam. He was still holding it together, sort of, but that wouldn’t last.

He wandered around the room, dragging me behind him, introducing me to assorted friends and relations. He introduced me as, “Libby.” That was it. Not
, “my friend Libby,” which would still have been open to misinterpretation. No. Just “Libby.” That guaranteed that his entire family was making erroneous assumptions willy-nilly.

Even Adam’s mother didn’t seem to have things quite straight. When I said something about Sydney, she gave me a blank look. I attributed her forgetfulness to shock and exhaustion.

I don’t know if Adam’s mother had things completely wrong, or if they were just running out of room, but she put me in Adam’s old room. With Adam. It was fine. There were two twin beds, and it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d had to share a double. I think we were both feeling the opposite of amorous.

The funeral was the next day.
It was a nice funeral. Adam gave the eulogy. He still hadn’t cried.

I figured I’d go back
home the day after the funeral, but when I told Adam I was booking a return ticket, he didn’t want me to go.

“I know you’ll have to take leave without pay,” he said. “But I’ll make up the difference for you.”

“It’s not about the pay. Your mother needs you here. I’m glad I was able to come with you, but I’m starting to feel like I’m in the way.”

He sat down on the floor
and put his head in his hands.

“I think I might be going crazy,” he said.

“You’re not going crazy. You’re still in shock. It will get worse. Then eventually, it will start to get better.”

“I can’t,” he said.

“You don’t have any choice.”

“I mean
t I can’t do it without you.”

He could have done it without me, but I
didn’t want him to.

I almost called Dr. Maxwell and told him not to expect me for another week, but I chickened out at the last minute and sent an email
, instead.

Adam’s mother didn’t seem to think I was in the way. She
kept repeating how happy she was that I was able to stay a little longer. It was obvious that Adam hadn’t brought many women home to meet his parents.

That evening, after we’d gone to bed, I asked him about it.

“Has your mother met many of your girlfriends?”

“She met Frieda.”

I didn’t remember any Frieda.   

“Who’s Frieda?”

“Summer of 2002.”

That was ancient history.

“Nobody since?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I guess I never g
ot that serious with anyone else.”

“She thinks we’re
together, doesn’t she?”

“She might.”

I didn’t say anything. I could hardly demand that he set his grieving mother straight.

“Can I come over there?” Adam asked.

“Why?”

“I’m cold.”

Adam’s mother did keep the air conditioner turned up pretty high.

“Then turn the fan off.”

“I like the fan.”

“I saw a blanket in the closet.”

“I promise not to get handsy.”

I gave in. He came over and climbed into bed with me. It wasn’t until a tear splashed on my cheek that I realized he was finally crying. He didn’t stop
crying for an hour. He held me so tight I could hardly breathe. I finally eased myself free and got up for a glass of water. When I came back, I thought he was asleep, so I lay down on the empty bed. Ten minutes later he was over in the other bed with me. He had stopped crying, but he kept a firm grip on me until he finally fell asleep.    

The next day Adam wanted to
go on a drive, to visit all of his childhood haunts. He wanted to show me everything. His old schools, the ballpark where he’d played little league, the hill where he’d lost control of his bike and broken his arm.

He seemed to be doing
a little better. At least, he didn’t say anything more about feeling like he was going crazy.

That evening we had dinner with the aunts and uncles. I
was the object of undisguised and unapologetic curiosity.

One of the Uncle
s came right out and asked what everyone was probably wondering. “So, when are you kids planning on making it official?”

His wife kicked him under the table.

“Oh, we’re taking our time,” Adam said.

“Well, don’t take too long,” the Uncle admonished. “
Cute girl like Libby, somebody will come along and take her off your hands.”

I don’t think I like being discussed in the third person.

That night, Adam got into my bed without even asking. I didn’t kick him out, and the last three nights we stayed with his mother he did the same. He didn’t cry again. At least not in front of me.

We left for home on Friday afternoon. Adam’s mother wasn’t ready to let him
go, but it was his decision, so I didn’t interfere. As we were collecting our luggage, I asked if he’d called Sydney. I don’t think he’d called her all week, but I knew she’d called him. I’d heard Adam talking to her right after the funeral.

“I’ll do it later,” he said.

“You’d better. Or you’re going to find yourself short one girlfriend.”

“What if I d
on’t tell her that you came along with me?” Adam asked, without looking at me.

“Do what you want.”

“Is that your way of saying I should tell her?”

“Let me put it this way: If I were her, I’d be a little upset if you told me you’d taken another woman to
your father’s funeral.”

“So I shouldn’t tell her?”

“I’m not finished. I’d be a little upset if you told me. I’d be livid if I found out you’d withheld that bit of information.”

“Even
if you knew the woman in question was just a friend?”

I didn’t say anything.

“We’re not really ‘just friends’ anymore, are we?” Adam looked at me. I looked away and didn’t answer. It seemed better not to. If I hadn’t been so worried about him, I’d have suggested that maybe we needed to spend a little less time together for a while, but he was so fragile

Sydney didn’t break up with
Adam, which made me think it was either because she was too nice to break up with a man who’d just lost his father, or that she liked Adam so much she was willing to wait things out and see what happened.

I invited her and Adam over for dinner the next Sunday, in the hopes that spending some time with me would put her mind at ease. I invited Shasta and Brad
, too. Brad couldn’t come. That made it just Adam and three women. He didn’t seem to mind. I thought it might be awkward, but it wasn’t.

At least it wasn’t
awkward until Shasta put her foot in it. Shasta knew all about me going to Dallas. I guess she assumed that Sydney did, too. I mean, Sydney should have known. Adam should have told her, but I guess he hadn’t.

We were clearing the plates when Shasta said to me, “I heard it
got up to a hundred in Dallas last week. Hope you brought along your shorts.” It was a strange thing to say. Shasta isn’t the type who talks about the weather. Looking back, I’m convinced she did it on purpose, just to blow Adam’s cover. That surprised me. Shasta usually goes out of her way to make sure no one gets mad and no one’s feelings get hurt.

I didn’t say anything, but Sydney was looking at me. Guilt—not that I had anything to feel guilty about—must have been written across my face, because
then Sydney looked over at Adam.

“What’s Shasta talking about?”

“Who knows,” Adam said.

“Libby went with you, didn’t she?”

“You didn’t tell her!” I couldn’t believe it.

“I was going to,” said Adam.

“When?” Sydney sounded mad.

“I don’t know. There’s nothing to be mad about
,” Adam said.

“Nothing
? I might have believed that if you’d told she’d gone in the first place.” Sydney looked ready to spit.

I could have sworn there was a little smile flickering on Shasta’s lips. I can’t imagine why. I certainly wasn’t finding the situation very amusing.

Sydney and Adam left right away. I didn’t hear yelling, but I’m betting there was some on the way home.

“Why did you do that?” I asked Shasta, after they were out the door.

“Do what?”

“You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”

“How did you even know that Adam hadn’t told Sydney?”

“Adam and I talk.”

Great. I used to be the one Adam
confided in. Now I’m the other woman, but with all the responsibilities and none of the benefits.

“Adam loves you,” Shasta said.

“I know he loves me.”

“No, I mean he
loves
you.”

I snorted a very unladylike snort in response to that statement, but
it didn’t faze Shasta. She’s tougher than she looks.

I guess Sydney and Adam managed to patch things up
, because I didn’t see much of Adam for almost a month. I imagine that was a condition of staying together—that Adam would be seeing a lot less of me.

I was half relieved and half sad. I hoped Adam was doing all right. Sydney
may be a nice girl, but she doesn’t know Adam like I do.
 

After dropping off the map
for almost a month, Adam abruptly reinserted himself into my life. Five weeks to the day his father died, he stopped by my office and announced that he and Sydney had broken up, and would I like to go out to dinner?

“Tonight?”

“Are you free?”

I was free, but I didn’t feel like letting him off that easy.

“You know, you take me very much for granted,” I said.

“I do know. And I very much appreciate that you let me.”

“What if I stopped letting you?”

The smile vanished from his face
, and he looked a little scared. “I really need to see you.”

When he put it that way, I couldn’t
refuse.

That evening I met him at the restaurant. Told him I was working late. For some reason that I c
an’t explain, I didn’t want him coming to my house to get me.

It felt like a first date. We’d never gone so long without seeing each other. I was a little angry with him, to tell the truth.

“So—“ I said, after we’d ordered, “—in any contest between sex and friendship, sex obviously wins.”

“What?”

“You know. Sydney was sex. I was friendship. Sydney won.”

“Nobody won.”

“Oh, really?”

“I told you
. Sydney and I broke up.”

“Maybe she broke up with you.”

He went very quiet. I wanted him to say I was wrong, but he didn’t.

“I’ve been thinking—“
Adam said.

“And?”

“Why aren’t sex and friendship ever be combined?”

“Some people have tried
.” Not very successfully.

I reached for my water glass and almost knocked it over. Adam reached out to steady it.

“What would you say to being, ‘some people’?”

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? I reached for my water glass again. This time I succeeded in knocking it over. Water ran across the table and into my lap. I barely noticed.

Adam handed me his napkin.

“That’s awfully risky, don’t you think?” I stemmed the mini Niagara flowing over the edge of the table and put the sodden napkin back on the table.

“It would be risky,” Adam said.

I could hear the words. I could see his mouth moving when he said them, but everything sounded strange, as if English had become a foreign language I barely understood.

“How long ago did you have this brainwave?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“Define ‘awhile.’”

“Since the morning you left for Tampa.”

“What happens when you get tired of me?”

“What makes you think I’ll get tired of you?”

“Name one woman you haven’t gotten tired of?”

“You think I’m really shallow, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t use the word shallow
. I just think you have a limited attention span when it comes to women.”

“
You’re not ‘women.’ You’re different.”

I
’m different, alright.

“I’ll think about it.”

I did think about it. I couldn’t think of anything else. But I couldn’t make up my mind.
 

Shasta said I should go for it
. What did I have to lose?

“Our friendship could be irrevocably damaged,” I told her. I was sitting in her
salon chair. She was closing up. She listened to me agonize while she swept up and cleaned the mirrors.

“I’d say your friendship with Adam is already
permanently altered,” Shasta said.

“So you’re saying it’s already so messed up, nothing I do can
will make it any worse?”

“I didn’t say that. I just meant that there’s already no going back.”

“But I want to go back.”

“I’m not sure you mean that.”

I didn’t mean that. I wanted to go forward. At least half of me did. The other half wanted to go back to being Adam’s weird friend who wore kakis and button-downs. That was another thing—

“There’s something else that’s bothering me,” I said. “Why did Adam suddenly take an interest in me when I started looking different? I know men
can be shallow, but I’d like to think it’s the inner woman he wants?”

“I believe the whole let’s-make-over-Libby thing was
just evidence of his unacknowledged feelings for you.”

“Really?”

“I don’t think he became attracted to you because you suddenly looked different. I believe the fact that you looked different allowed him to acknowledge how he’d felt about you all along.”

I wasn’t convinced, but it was food for thought.

“You know—“ Shasta continued, “—I was jealous of you, back when Adam and I were dating.
I could see it—even then. When it comes to Adam, no one has come close to competing with you for a very long time.“

I’d been fiddling with the lever that adjusts Shasta’s salon chair, and when she said that
, I abruptly let go of the lever that raises and lowers the chair and almost tipped out. Shasta paid no attention.

“Maybe you don’t have to
make up your mind right away,” She said. “If I were you, I’d make him sweat a little. God knows it’s taken him long enough to come to his senses.”