Page 77 of A Bookish Story

“Well, no, but…is this really what you want?”

I suppose it’s now up to me to be the parent and gently remind Eddie my mother is not the most reliable woman on the planet.

“What do you mean?”

“Think carefully. I don’t have to tell you her track record isn’t the best. There’s Seb⁠—”

“Seb was not a good man.” Eddie shakes his head slowly.

“No kidding! But there’s also the fact that she…face it, she doesn’t stick around for long. She has to be the center of attention.”

“It took a while, but she’s changed. I believe her.”

“I don’t see it yet.” I cross my arms and give him the truth because he deserves it. “And you’re ready to settle down? With her?”

“Like it or not, your mother is still beautiful, and she’s funny, and irreverent. She gets me.” He shrugs. “I’m over fifty, and I have a few good years left in me. If not now, then when? Marry when I’m eighty? What’s the point?”

It hurts me to think of how much time they’ve lost.

“I…I don’t know what to say. What does Abuelita think? You have told her, haven’t you?”

Eddie nods. “You forget your abuelita had a front row seat to all of this years ago. After your father died, she thought I should marry Geneva and take care of both of you. That didn’t sit well with me. It had been too long and Geneva was no longer mine. Hadn’t been for years. I couldn’t get there, even though of course I adored you. I promised to take care of you like you were my own and I have.”

“You have.”

The thought of Eddie and my mother, all those years ago, when they could have raised me together…this spears into my mind with slicing pain. She wouldn’t have dropped me off with Eddie and Abuelita and left. She would have stayed.

The picture of me, Eddie, and my mother as a family brings about fresh pain of what might have been.

CHAPTER 25

By the time I get back to Ryan’s later that morning, I don’t want to think anymore. I’ve been given the power to control the future happiness of two people. I told Eddie I don’t want the responsibility and they should do whatever they want since they’re both adults. He insisted I think about it and they will accept whatever my answer is. Can I just say? The pressure is enormous. I appreciate the vote of confidence and clear concern for my well-being. But a person who romanticizes everything isn’t going to tell two people who long to be together that they can’t because I think it’s cringy.

At Ryan’s, I have someone who manages to make me feel good about myself. All I want is to fall into this world of make believe we’ve created where books and words rule the day.

I’m not going to think about last night’s kiss or how it made me feel. We’re co-workers and co-writers.

“How’s the writing going?”

It’s the first thing I ask him when I walk in because he’s sitting on the sofa, wearing his glasses, scribbling on a notepad. This is a good sign. He looks up at me, one corner of his lip quirked up in a half smile and takes off his glasses.

He holds up his yellow legal pad. “I’ve got the plot.”

“I thought you already had the plot.”

“Not for my spy novel. For the sequel to the book.”

“You have the entire plot?”

I’ve only been gone a few hours. He might be some kind of plotting savant.

“Of course, there is room for changes and flexibility. But this is an outline you can use that would at least help you get started.” He hands me the pad.

I sit beside him. These are hieroglyphics I can now read due to experience. I flip through them quickly.

This is something I can do. It’s not all that different from my ghostwriting gig, being given the plot, but this time it’s skeletal. This time, I’ll be the one to give it flesh and breathe life into it with more of my own ideas. It will be my face on this work. This time it’s forward facing. Ryan is no longer the ghostwriter of the book. I’m no longer a ghostwriter. Take out the ghost, enter the writer.

“You can make whatever changes you want. It’s not set in stone. Remember, this is your book.”