Sleep hadn’t come easily, even with the warm fuzzies of family time. Around three a.m. the monkeys in my head started in on me.
I thought about the documents. There were edges where the waxed canvas hadn't protected as well as it should have. There would be more discoloration creeping in from exposure to air after a hundred and seventy years of sealed darkness. They had weeks, maybe a month before the damage became irreversible.
The university library had proper archival facilities. Climate control, acid-free storage, specialized preservation equipment. Everything these documents needed to survive another century.
I told myself that's why I'd been sitting here for two hours, unable to move.
"You've been staring at those papers since breakfast." Neil's voice came from the workshop doorway. "Everything okay?"
"I need to take them back." The words came out before I could stop them. "To the university library. They need proper care."
He was silent for long enough that I looked up. His face showed nothing, but his eyes were unreadable. "When?"
"Today."
"You're going back to him." Still that blank expression, but I could hear the strain underneath.
"I'm going back to save the documents. And to not get fired." I gestured at the papers. "I want to leave on my own terms. I want to get my life in Boston in order before coming back hereto work on this project. It would look better if I quit instead of being fired."
Neil moved into the workshop, his boots heavy on the floor. "Is that what this is really about?"
"What else would it be?"
"You tell me." He stopped on the other side of the desk. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're looking for a reason to leave."
The accusation stung. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" His voice was level, almost conversational, which somehow made it worse. "You’re acting like you're already halfway gone."
“I’m not,” I said. Yesterday, watching his entire family mobilize to help me fight my professional battles, I'd realized what I was doing to him. To all of them. “Your family spent their entire evening dealing with my problems. All for someone they met one day ago."
"They did it because they wanted to."
"They did it because you asked them to. Because I'm your problem now."
"You're not a problem."
"I'm unemployed, living in your house, eating your food, dragging your family into my professional disasters." I stood, needing movement. "How long before that gets old? How long before you realize I'm just taking up space in your life?"
"Is that what you think?" Neil's voice had gone flat. "That you're taking up space?"
"I know I am. We've known each other for just a few days, and I've already disrupted your entire life."
"Days." He repeated the word like it tasted bitter. "You keep saying that. Like it's supposed to mean something."
"It does mean something. It means I'm making life-altering decisions based on hours of... I don’t know what?"
I watched him absorb that, then saw his resignation.
"So that's what this is. A fantasy you're waking up from."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." He turned toward the door. "When do you need to leave?"
The shift in conversation felt like whiplash. "Neil—"
"The roads are still bad. Mud and washouts from all the rain. I can drive you to town. You can catch a bus to the train station." His tone was businesslike, distant. "The documents are yours to do with what you want."
