The Bookish Life of Nina Hill(70)

“Oh. Well, he’s dead.”

Louise laughed. “Easy come, easy go. You found this out when?”

“A month ago, maybe. Something like that. I have a brother and three sisters and nieces and nephews and cousins.”

“Well, shoot,” said Louise. “That might have been nice to know. Just think of all the birthday presents you could have got.” Nina smiled. Louise continued, “But you must be freaking out. All those people.”

“Yeah, though they’re mostly really nice.”

“Great.” Louise waited. “So . . . ?”

“There’s something else. I met this guy.”

A low laugh. “I knew there was a guy in here somewhere.”

Nina started babbling. “And I really like him but it’s too much. There’s problems at work, then there’s all these new people I need to get used to, so I sort of broke up with the guy, I mean, not really broke up, but kind of, and that’s fine, but he was really wonderful so maybe I should have . . .” Her voice faltered. “I don’t know. It used to work to close it all off, but it’s not working so well anymore.”

Louise sighed, and Nina heard her take a long sip of tea. She waited.

“Well, honey, you can’t expect the same tricks to work your whole life. When you were little and things got to be too much, you’d put your hands over your ears and sing, but if you do that now you’d get some funny looks, plus you’d know that when you dropped your hands the problem would still be there. Magical thinking only works for children. And politicians, maybe.”

Nina’s voice was small. “So what do I do?”

“I don’t know, baby. The first thing you should always do is . . .” Louise waited.

“Nothing. The first thing you should always do is nothing.” Nina supplied the answer Louise had often provided over the years.

“That’s right. Wait a day or two and see what happens. Life needs space, just like you. Give it room.” The older woman paused. “How’s your anxiety?”

Nina shrugged, not that Louise could see her. “Bad.”

“It’s only doing its job, poor, overenthusiastic thing. I still remember what that therapist said: Anxiety is what kept us alive, back in the day. It helps us know when things are wrong, when situations are dangerous or people mean us harm. It’s just sometimes it gets ahead of itself, right?”

Nina nodded. “I know.”

“So, do nothing, let yourself calm down, take some deep breaths, and wait. Your anxiety will pass; things will get clearer. If this guy is meant to happen, he’ll happen.”

“What if he can’t handle my anxiety?”

Louise sounded firm. “His loss.”

“He doesn’t make me feel anxious. He makes me feel good, actually.”

Louise laughed. “Then don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow, baby. Don’t worry about how it might go wrong; just let yourself be happy.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Most things are.”

“Does everyone else feel like this?”

“Like what? Worried? Uncertain? Hopeful and cynical at the same time?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure they do, baby. That’s how it feels to be alive.”

“It’s not a good feeling.”

“Well, who knows what a fish feels; it might be even worse.”

“And definitely wetter.”

“Right.” Louise’s voice was soft. “Get some sleep now, and call me tomorrow. You like being on your own, Nina, but you’ve never been alone. You know that, right?”

Nina nodded, holding the phone tightly. “I know. I love you.”

“I love you more. Kiss Phil for me. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Bye, Lou.”

“Bye, you.”





Twenty-four




In which Nina becomes an object of pity.

It’s hard to keep a secret in Larchmont. After Polly’s outburst at the Festival, it took approximately three hours for every single person in a ten-block radius to know that Knight’s was in danger of shutting down. Someone started crowdfunding. Someone else posted on social media that the forces of evil were triumphing and that the existence of literacy was under attack. Someone else made soup for Liz, and on Monday morning brought it to the store.

Liz was disgusted by this outpouring of support.

“It’s just a bookstore,” she said, having spent twenty minutes calming down the soup-giver, who’d been coming to the store for a decade and considered it central to her children’s middle-class experience. “I mean, it’s adorable, and I’m always glad to take free food, but all we need is more people to buy more books.”

Nina looked at her. “I think we need more than that, don’t we? We need to pay six months of back rent, un-triple-mortgage your house, and buy back the kidney Polly already sold on Craigslist.”

Liz made a face. “She only sold the promise of a kidney. I think she may have discovered a new financial vehicle, actually. If I had early-stage kidney disease, I might be open to taking out a rent-to-buy option on someone else’s organ.”

“Organ sale is illegal in the United States, although it is legal in Iran.”