Seventeen months ago
“It could be them.”
I pointed to a couple sitting a few steps down from where we were eating our lunch on the library stairs.
Fisher’s brows knitted. “They could be who?”
“Alexandria and Jasper.”
His forehead wrinkled. “The couple from that new diary you’re reading? The one your roommate gave you for your birthday?”
I nodded. “It was really sweet of her.” I hadn’t even realized she knew it was my birthday, yet she had given me the most incredible diary as a gift. I was obsessed with it.
Fisher unwrapped his sandwich and took a large bite. He spoke with his mouth full. “I thought you didn’t know the boyfriend’s name.”
“I don’t. But I decided to call him Jasper since she refers to him as J. It makes him feel more real in my head when I think about them.”
“Honey, you know I love you. But most of the shit that goes on in your head isn’t real.”
I elbowed him playfully. Lately, I’d started coming to sit on the stairs at the library for lunch—the exact stairs where so much of the story playing out in the diary I was reading had occurred. I liked to read my daily entry allotments here and imagine that some of the people sitting nearby were the ones on the pages in my hands.
“This diary is the best thing I’ve ever read. One day last week, Alexandria’s husband came home early from work to check on her. The night before she’d told him she hadn’t been feeling well when he’d tried to initiate having sex. But the truth was, she’d had sex with Jasper just a few hours earlier, so she wasn’t into sex with her own husband. Anyway…when he came home to check on her, she was taking a nap because that morning she’d gone yet again to meet Jasper, and she was physically wiped out. Her husband always works late, so she hadn’t thought anything about leaving her phone out on the kitchen counter charging. But when he walked in, he happened to catch a text message popping up on her screen. It was Jasper telling her when to meet him the next day. Luckily, he was only in her phone contacts as J. When her husband asked her about the text, she told him it was related to a surprise for his birthday, and he bought it. The poor guy still seems clueless about her affair. But she’s become paranoid about where she leaves her phone now.”
Fisher shook his head. “Poor guy? You mean poor schmuck.”
“I know. I feel bad for her husband. Their wedding was right here at the library.” I held my hands out. “And now she sometimes meets Jasper on these very steps so they can go screw in the alley around the corner behind a dumpster. I don’t get it. She seemed so in love with her husband last year before the wedding.”
He took another bite of his sandwich. “What—did you buy multiple volumes of this person’s diary or something? One diary doesn’t span years, does it?”
“This one does, because she doesn’t write in it too often. The time hops around—it’s months between entries at some points. She wrote in it a lot before her wedding, describing everything she was planning. But then it mostly stopped after. I guess she had nothing exciting to write for a year or two…until she started sleeping with her husband’s friend.”
“You better take this one slow. Sounds like you’re going to have withdrawal after you finish it.”
“I know. It’s because the woman it belonged to and everyone she writes about are all right here in the City. I’ve never read a local diary before, much less one that takes place right down the block from my work. It makes it all seem so real—like it’s going on now instead of whenever she wrote it. I can’t stop thinking about the people in the story and wondering if I might be passing one of them. The other day I was at Starbucks, and the barista’s nametag said Jasper. I dropped my iced latte all over the floor because I got so excited, thinking it could be him. I sat inside the store until he finished his shift. Luckily, his boyfriend came to pick him up, so that ruled him out as the diary woman’s paramour.”
“Was the barista cute?”
“He was, actually. But I was stalking a man because his name was Jasper! I don’t even know the real name of the guy the woman in my diary is having an affair with.”
“What Starbucks was it? A hot, gay barista sounds more up my alley than yours.”
I chuckled. “Seriously, Fisher. What was I going to do after waiting two hours for that poor guy to get off of work? Follow him all the way home?”
“You’re starting to sound a little obsessive.”
I sighed. “That’s what Aiden said. We recently had a fight because my phone was dead. I’d forgotten to put it on the charger, and when I went to look for his cell to text you to tell you I’d be late for dinner, I realized he never leaves his phone around anymore. It made me suspicious because of how paranoid Alexandria is about getting caught, and Aiden and I wound up arguing. He’d done nothing wrong.”
Fisher shook his head. “Maybe you should take a little break from reading.”
I finally opened the container of salad I’d made for lunch. Stabbing a fork into it, I sighed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
Fisher snort-laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”
