“Look,” I say, keeping my words hard as I can. “Even if there was something wrong, even if therewas, there would literally be nothing you could do about it, okay? It would take...it would take a goddamn miracle. An act of God." I look up, feeling vicious. "All right? Okay?”
And when I see his face, I hate that I've said it. I hate that I'm being this way. I hate everything about me.
Because I love Cal.
I love that face like a stupid Greek god, love his glasses, love his big hands and little smiles, love the Bostonese that creeps in after too many glasses of wine.
I love that he's a good fighter, even for a lost cause.
And I want to say it. I wish I could say it, but there's no way that would make anything better.
To give him that and then rip it all away—that wouldn't be an act of love at all.
It’s…better this way. Even if it’s not good at all.
TWENTY-THREE
GWENNA
Two days later,I get a notice in my mailbox that the texts that Dr. Emrys puts on hold for me at the library are ready. When I arrive to check them out, it’s an…interesting selection, to say the least. They're all out of different cultural traditions, different centuries, different continents even, although mostly in the western world, and, most frustratingly, different sized printed books, which leaves me with an awkward armful of elephant folios down to incunabula stacked in my arms as the librarian swipes my student ID.
“Usually we don't permit these to leave the building,” she remarks in her even librarian’s tone. “But Dr. Emrys insisted.”
I nod, wordless. She must be new here, I think. Because otherwise she would recognize me asgirl who is not to be trusted with valuable manuscript material. But the checkout goes through, and I am equipped.
When I get back to Camlann, I spread the books out in the study overlooking the lake—the biggest workspace that’s not the dining room or the Black Table—and just…work my way through. At first, I'm eager and intrigued, taking some notes,remarking on similarities of imagery and word choice, even pausing to relish the language now and again. But very quickly, it becomes repetitive.
I am this, I am that.
I start skimming, something I hate to do. Ten or more books in, I’m on the verge of giving up when I hear footsteps at the entrance to the room.
“I thought you might be here.”
It's Callahan. I look up, lifting my cheek from my fist, where it's been resting so long it’s probably left an indent.
“Yeah,” I say, yawning inadvertently.How long have I been here?I stretch my arms above my head, glance at the brass clock on the fireplace mantel. 3:30 p.m. Outside, the sun is waning, flaring pink and orange across a rare clear sky. I stare at it. Cal follows my gaze, his hand on the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and together we look at the oncoming darkness of night, too early, too soon.
It'sMay, I think, in the desperate back of my mind.It's almost summer.
Cal sets his bag down. “Discover anything interesting?”
There's just a shade too much hope in his voice, an eagerness he can’t quite stamp out. Hearing it makes me wilt.
“I don't know,” I say honestly. “I mean, it's not really interesting me personally, but that isn't the point. At this point, I’ll care about whatever I'm supposed to care about.” I spread my hands over the mess of papers, not sure if I’m about to laugh or cry. “It's like the only way I'm gonna know what I'm looking for is to go in knowing what I'm looking for. It’s like…like…”
“Like a tautology,” Cal says.
“Yeah.” I laugh a little and smile. “Exactly.”
Cal looks at his hands, spread on the table. “I'm taking Philosophy this semester. A History of Rational Thought. It’s kind of a…” He trails off as if looking for the right word.
“Mindfuck?” I offer.
Cal blushes. “I mean, not in so many words, but?—”
“I know what you mean,” I say. I had a brush with Enlightenment philosophy in high school which gave me very immediateno thank youvibes. “Never got behind it myself. It's exhausting trying to be that objective all the time.”
“Yeah,” Cal says, smiling a little. “And it feels like it shouldn't be, right? Like if it's the absolute truth, it should just kind of be obvious, right?”
