and who instead spend their time watching Netflix and scrolling social media on their iPhones or Androids. Those who say they read so much for work that they couldn’t possibly come home and read any more. Those who cannot read. But, judging from the document on the screen, Wally can read. Hence my confusion.
“Do you know how to read?”
Wally looks affronted. “I have an IQ of a hundred and forty-one.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I used to read when I was a child,” he says, almost thoughtfully now. “I stopped at some point, I guess.”
“What were your favorite books when you were a child?”
He appears to think about this. “Let’s see, well, I enjoyed The Outsiders. The Chocolate War. To Kill a Mockingbird—”
“I have the perfect book!” I say, cutting him off and heading toward General Fiction, where I snatch up a copy of Jasper Jones. “This will reignite your love of reading,” I say upon my return. “It’s won several major awards and been short-listed for half a dozen others. And it was made into a film in 2017.” I place the book on top of his notebook, which is next to his laptop. “And if you need me to set you up with a library card, I’d be happy to do that.”
He regards me for a longer than normal moment. Then something softens around his eyes. “I apologize, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Fern. Fern Castle.”
“I’m Rocco.”
He extends his hand as if to shake mine; I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“Oh, I prefer not to touch people if I can possibly help it. Did you know that we carry an average of thirty-two hundred bacteria from a hundred and fifty species on our hands at any one time? This includes fecal bacteria! If I shook hands with everyone I met at the library, I’d be constantly ill, not to mention contaminated with god knows what.” I reach for my travel-sized antibacterial spray, which is attached to my overalls by a handy carabiner, and pump it into my hands. “Would you like some?”
“Oh no, it’s okay.… Oh, er, okay, thanks,” he says, and I administer a squirt to his palm. He rubs his palms together. “So, shall we see if we can do something about this printer, then?”
Carmel is in the children’s section now, watching Linda making recommendations to a mother of four sons who look like they’d much rather be kicking a football than be in the library (perfect candidates for Paul Jennings or Andy Griffiths, or any book with “Fart” in the title, if you ask me). As such, I know now is the time to make my exit. I’m preparing to tilt my head, frown into the distance, and declare that I can hear someone calling me when I have an epiphany.
Wally is handsome, in an odd sort of way. If his IQ is to be believed, he has a few brain cells. Which means there’s only …
“How is your health, Wally?”
The softness in his eyes is replaced with suspicion. “It’s excellent. I jog every morning, ten kilometers.”
I smile. For once, the library computer service has brought me some good fortune. He smiles back at me a little uncertainly, until I pose my next question.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
His smile falls away.
JOURNAL OF ROSE INGRID CASTLE
My therapist told me I should keep writing while I’m away. Seeing Owen again is likely to bring up some big emotions, he said, about the marriage as well as my desire to have a baby, and it will be helpful if I get them down on paper. And since I’ve watched all the movies I care to on the plane, here goes!
I’m terrified about this reunion. I want to believe it will go well, obviously. I fantasize about it going well. In my fantasies, Owen will be happy to see me. He will explain that the reason he hasn’t kept in touch is because it is too painful to talk to me, knowing I’m so far away. But just because I fantasize about it doesn’t mean I expect it to happen. I’m not stupid. I’ve noticed Owen has been lukewarm about my visit. I’ve considered the possibility that he’s invited me to London to end things for good. Maybe I’d even arrive to find him on the arm of a beautiful English rose with an upper-class accent? The funny thing is, if that is the case, part of me will be satisfied. Because it’s what I think I