“Damn.” Maybe I can afford one? April loves comics.Even though the stories are usually disjointed due to missing issues, the pictures are lively and exciting. I’m admiring an issue ofSpider-Man Loves Mary Janewhen Sid reaches me.
“You should check out the library before you commit to any of those.”
My hands go limp, dropping the comic. “You have a library? A real, current, workinglibrary?”
“Yeah, it’s…” He startles when he notices that I’m on the verge of tears. “You really like books, huh?”
Likebooks? For years, they were the only access I had to people other than myself or April. The only part of the world that was ever new or changing. There’s no way to express it, but I try all the same. “It’s where I learned about honeymoons.”
Sid’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Well, then wehaveto go visit.”
He probably only wants me to stop wasting time shopping for junk, but I don’t care. Last night he spent so much time going on about all the ways Salt Spring was better than the rest of the world, but this is the first time I believe it could be true. This is the first real proof of paradise.
Even now, I expect it to be a joke. The books won’t be free. My demerit will mean I’m not allowed to get a card. But when we arrive, Sid walks me to the desk and helps me talk through the process with the librarian. We’ve got my sanctuary papers with us because of the wedding, so the librarian has my address recorded in her ledger within a few minutes. I can take ten, for three weeks at a time, before they start asking for the books back, and it’s so wonderful, I actually do start crying. I’ve been holding in a mountain of emotions today, and this is one too many, bringing the whole rockslide rushing down. At least it’s a positive feeling.
The book limit turns out to be the only terrible thingabout the library. There are so many more than ten books that I want to read. I try to think of authors I’ve enjoyed and skim the shelves for their titles. I fill my arms with Lucy Maud Montgomery, Jane Austen, and—because I’m feeling brave—Agatha Christie. That’s more for April than me, though I do plan on reading everything I’ve picked up.
I heft my pile onto the counter. If this doesn’t make up for having to live here, nothing will. As the librarian stamps each book, I turn to Sid. “You going to get anything?”
He shrugs. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Really?” Apparently, I should have gotten to know my husband better before marrying him, too. “Why not?”
“I can carry those for you.” He picks up the stack, ignoring my question.
“Those are due back on November third.” The librarian hands me a slip of paper with both today’s date and the one I have to return the books by. I stare at it for a beat. October thirteenth. I guess that’s my wedding anniversary. I stuff the paper into my pocket and hurry to catch up with Sid, who is already outside with everything we purchased from the exchange.
“Do you like books?” I ask him.
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you like books? I thought—”
“I literally just said I do like them.”
Nice try, Sid.
“Ithought,” I drag the word out. “That you would be into, like… non-fiction or something. I mean, you’re really smart.”
The compliment only draws a surly, “Oh yeah?”
“Yes. Obviously. You’ve got the whole bloody Council memorized. You read court cases for fun, so of course you’re—”
“You don’t have to do this.” He shoves the pallet to the bus stop, his movements brusque.
“Dowhat?” Are we having a fight? I’m not opposed to yelling at him when necessary, but I don’t understand what’s set him off.
“This. Whatever it is you’re trying to do right now.” He grabs the bed frame and dumps it next to me. “Connecting! Trying to make this special ormeansomething. You don’t have to. Like that kiss back in the court office—”
“Woah, isthatwhat this is about? I’m sorry if I crossed a line, but it was our wedding and the judge was staring at us. We’re supposed to be in love, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. It was barely a kiss. I’m just saying, you don’thaveto do it.” He flails his arms like a willow in a windstorm. “This isn’t real. You don’t have to pretend like it is. It’ll be over in three years and—”
“Wait,three years?”
“It’s okay, it will probably be less.”
“Less? What are you talking about?” None of this is making a lick of sense.
