Chapter 33
“Did I miss the memo about a library employee salon trip or something?” Martha asks as she approaches the front desk.
She dabs at her temple with the back of her hand, a feminine sparkle about her (because women don’t sweat, according to Granny; they either glow or sparkle).
A newly erected six-foot cardboard cutout of the Cat in the Hat now stands near the entrance of the children’s wing, Martha showing every sign of her stubbornness and fight to put it up by herself.
Hayley shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye.
I can read her expression like an open book.
She’s not sure what to say because she doesn’t want to betray my confidence, but with her dramatically shorter hair and the fact that I’m wearing a wig that’s a slightly different shade and style than my usual one—well, there’s obviously some explanation needed here.
Martha pats her own curls that rebel with the humidity, creating a wild riot of a halo around her head. She laughs a bit sadly, and I realize she probably feels left out.
“I doubt even a salon could tame this bird’s nest. But you, Hayley, that bob frames your face beautifully and really highlights your cheekbones.” She turns to me. “And, Evangeline, the new layers really give your hair volume and the lighter shade of chestnut is perfect for summer.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she pivots and retreats to her corner of the library.
Honestly, I don’t know Martha well. Hayley kind of kidnapped me as a friend as soon as I arrived in town while Martha has kept more to herself and the shelves of the children’s books that line the west corner of the library.
All that I really know about her is that she’s a hard worker, dedicated, knows everything there is to know about children’s literature, and often jots things down in a Moleskine notebook that she keeps on her at all times.
She’s quiet, except during story time when she gives each character of the book she’s reading aloud their own voice, almost acting like a one-woman theater production for her captive audience of little ones.
It’s time, I think to myself. I’m not ready to march down Main Street with my head bare, but I am ready to take a step forward out of the shadows.
“Martha, wait.”
She stops beside the giant Dr. Seuss icon and turns on her heel. “Yes?”
I walk over to her, Hayley right behind me. The oversized cat in the red-and-white striped hat has mischief written on his face. I’m almost expecting him to let a Thing One and Thing Two out of a box, indoor kite-flying with disastrous results immediately to ensue.
I look at Martha. “First off, your hair is beautiful. I would give anything to have hair like yours.”
“This frizz?” She smooths her hand over her curls, but they pop back up a second later. “Trust me, you wouldn’t.”
“Trust me, yes, I would.” I take a deep breath. The library is relatively deserted right now, but anyone could walk through the front doors at any moment.
It’s time, I say to myself again.
“Hayley did go to the salon, but I didn’t. I haven’t gone to a hairdresser in . . . well . . .” I lift my hand and pull the wig off my head. “Not since I lost my hair.”
Martha’s eyes track over the dome of my head without a flick of outward reaction. “Just like Sparkle Moore.”
Out of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t even on the radar. Especially since I have no idea who Sparkle Moore is. I put my wig back on, hoping it’s straight since I don’t have a mirror to check. “Excuse me?”
“Sparkle Moore. Hold on. I’ll show you.” She walks over to where the middle-grade fiction books are shelved. As if she has the placement of each title memorized, she quickly plucks a chapter book off the shelf and walks back to me, holding it out.
Sparkle by Lakita Wilson. The cover has a green background with an illustrated preteen in profile. Instead of a head of hair, she has sparkly stick-on jewels attached to her scalp in a colorful flower pattern. My breath catches.
A book with a heroine who has alopecia. The main character. Not a sidekick or supporting cast.
My eyes warm right before my vision starts to swim.
“It’s about a twelve-year-old girl who begins to lose her hair in middle school.
She tries to hide her diagnosis from her friends at school while also trying to help her family financially by becoming a superstar.
She has to deal with itchy wigs that she’s not used to, as well as new and strange medications, on top of navigating family and friends.
Not to mention the hit that her self-esteem takes because of her diagnosis. ”
I look at Martha, not sure what to say.
“The publisher may have marked the book for ages eight to twelve, but if you ask me, children’s literature can touch the hearts and lives of readers of every age.”
I hug the hardcover to my chest. “Thank you.” She has no idea the gift she’s just given me.
“Of course.”
The sound of the automatic doors opening pulls our attention toward the entrance.
Tai walks in wearing his signature dark-wash jeans and fitted black T-shirt.
The temperatures have begun to climb along with the humidity, canceling the need for his leather jacket.
I can’t say that I mind, as the sleeve of his tattoo is now on full display.
The lion and lamb and dove. The cross and rays of light through the clouds.
Even the rose. All physical and permanent reminders of the deep roots of Tai’s faith and convictions.
I can’t believe I ever considered him anything but hero material. Quite possibly my very own book boyfriend in the flesh.
I step around the protruding gloved hand of Dr. Suess’s anthropomorphic feline so I don’t knock myself out and approach a grinning Tai as I would any other patron. “Hello, sir. Can I help you find something specific, or are you just looking today?”
His dark eyes spark as he makes a show of checking me out from head to toe. “Oh, I’m definitely looking.”
My cheeks flush. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to his bold flirting. I’m also not sure I ever want him to stop.
The pencil skirt I’m wearing today came with a skinny belt. Tai hooks his fingers through the belt loops set just below my rib cage and tugs me to him. “But I’ve also found what I’m looking for,” he says with his lips a breath away from my own.
“At least take the make-out sesh to the academic periodicals section.” Hayley breezes past us. “Hardly anyone frequents that aisle.”
“I really don’t—” I protest at the same time that Tai grips my hand and starts dragging me in that direction, a quick “Thanks for the tip, cuz,” thrown over his shoulder.
As soon as Tai stops, a rack of medical journals behind him, my hand shoots up. “We are not reenacting the Friends episode with Ross’s book at the university library.”
“That wasn’t my plan, but thanks for giving me the idea.” He winks.
I shake my head at him, but the smile curving my lips counteracts any disapproving librarian matron vibes I was trying to project.
“I’m here on an errand for my mother.”
“Oh? Did she want you to get a book for her?”
“Not exactly.” Tai squeezes my fingers. “The small-town rumor mill has been busy.”
“Oh.” Realization dawns. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised it’s taken this long for word of our relationship to get back to his family.
“My parents want to meet you.”
Meeting the parents. I never thought I’d be here.
With Brett, our families had known one another since the beginning of time.
His mom and dad still remember when I’d take off my diaper and streak around the house butt naked.
I’ve never met the parents of a guy I’ve dated before.
And after Brett . . . well, I just didn’t think I’d ever be here, you know?
“In case you were wondering,” Tai says when I don’t immediately respond. Or respond at all, now that I think about it. I’ve kind of been in a daze. “I want my parents to meet you.”
“With or without a wig?”
Tai cups my face in his hands and looks deep into my eyes. He’s willing me to see the truth. To focus on him and nothing else.
“Whatever makes you the most comfortable, Angel. Wig or no wig, you’re beautiful and my parents are going to love you either way simply because I—”
He cuts himself off and doesn’t finish the sentence.
Because you what, Tai? I want to scream. I’m hanging by a thread that’s about to snap, a dark unknown waiting to swallow me whole if I plummet into its abyss.
I know how I want him to finish his sentence.
It’s as clear as a mountain stream and as scary as a raging river.
He’s given me every indication what the next two words out of his mouth would’ve been.
While I may have tried to convince myself of a different narrative about his intentions from the very beginning, he’s made me a liar at every turn.
So why am I so afraid to hope? Why am I more willing to believe Brett’s lies than Tai’s truths?
I swallow hard and cling to the thread rooting me to the spot. Ground myself to Tai’s dark eyes, to the way he sees me . . . No one has ever looked at me the way Tai does. His look gives me strength, emboldens me.
“Because you what?” I breathe out the question.
The movement is infinitesimal, but Tai shakes his head. His lips thin, as if he’s biting back what he wants to say.
I lift my hand and set my palm above his beating heart. “Because you what, Tai?”
It’s unfair of me to ask. Especially considering I’m unsure whether I’m ready to say the words to him. But my need to hear them has made me selfish. Desperate. I need to know that it’s possible for someone to have these feelings for me. For Tai to have these feelings for me.
His face softens. “Are you sure you’re ready to believe it, my Angel?”
It’s my turn to shake my head. “No. I’m pretty unsure about everything right now.” My fingers fan over his pectoral muscles. “But tell me anyway,” I whisper.