The Shadow in the Corner
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At that moment, all my life flashed before me. I saw myself as a child playing games on the beach with my sisters, heard a mocking voice inside my head whispering, “That’s not how you play,” and then, when I won, another voice, the one from this morning, saying, “I told you so.”
I’d never seen myself as an adult. The thought of growing up had been frightening and exhilarating, and now that I was here—the future suddenly seemed bleak. My childhood had only just started to get interesting, but now it was over; I couldn’t go back. There were no do-overs for adults, no second chances. If I screwed something up now…
And there he is, that shadow figure at my shoulder again. What did I ever see in him? Why didn’t I listen to anyone else who tried warning me? He was a good person and a decent fighter, but he was also the most arrogant, self-centered, selfish man I knew. And he lied to me.
How could I have believed him about anything? Hadn’t it always been his way or the highway for us? It wasn’t hard to find fault with him—and believe me, I had plenty of faults of my own.
But still…
He took care of me for all those years, even when I hated him. When we finally went our separate ways after college, he gave me a home—a real home, not someplace I rented for a year like I’d done everywhere else. He paid for my education, helped me buy my first car, and even bought me that old truck to start out my new life—when really all I wanted was a cheap used sedan.
When the Library needed a place to store my father’s research, he let them use his home until they found somewhere better. When the Library was looking for people with magic, he suggested me to the head librarian. And when he learned I had a knack for languages, he made sure I got the best training possible in that field.
It’s true that sometimes I resented his interference—it seemed like every time I did something without his approval, he would show up and ruin it, telling me how stupid and reckless my plans were. He kept reminding me, “You’re a grown woman now; you can make your own decisions!”
But I was young once too, and maybe I’d have reacted the same way if the situation was reversed. In the end, though, I think it’s what he did after I left to pursue my dream of being a writer that sealed the deal: he stayed. I hadn’t asked him to move in; I’d told him point-blank that it wouldn’t work. I didn’t need someone to take care of me, nor did I want to be responsible for someone else.
But then one day I came back home to find him sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He looked so defeated. All the fire had gone out of him; he barely acknowledged my presence. I sat beside him and said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“No. What happened? Did something happen at the bookstore?”
He sighed and lifted his head to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot. “I’m sorry, Zoe,” he said. “This job isn’t going well at all.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me—”
“Zoe, I know this is hard for you to understand, but things are different in the real world. We’ve got bills to pay, responsibilities—we need to make money.”
“You shouldn’t have moved into the bookstore. You should have gotten a regular job right away. I can help out around the house! Anything. I just need to keep writing stories.”
My mother had told me many times that the best thing a parent could do for their child was to leave them alone to find their way in the world, and I’d been determined to follow her advice—but now my own parents were facing financial trouble because of me.
“There was nothing else available,” my dad said sadly.
“But I could have gotten a better job,” I protested. “I’ve been offered several positions that were more suited to my skills.”
“Well, now you’ll never be able to get those jobs because you quit on me. Now we’re stuck.”
“I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble, Dad.”
He shook his head again. “You didn’t ask me to give you your life savings either! Do you know how much money that was? I thought we agreed you’d be happy working in a bookstore for a year or two while you saved up some money and figured things out.”
“So what’s wrong with waiting? Why did we have to sell our house? Why can’t we afford a bigger one? I know this is a terrible economy, but surely you’ve heard about the success of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo—”
“You know how hard I worked to save up that money,” he said angrily. “Do you really think I wanted to do that just so we could spend it on rent so you could go off and write novels that nobody will ever read? It wasn’t enough for us to get by on before you dropped out of school. Do you have any idea what you cost me? This isn’t fair.”
The truth is, I hadn’t considered that part at all. My parents couldn’t have known what they were getting into when they signed their lives over to my whims. Maybe that was why my dad had given up so quickly; it must have been hard for him to accept that there was no other option. It wasn’t like he could have stopped me if he wanted to. There was no way out.
In that moment, I finally understood exactly what it was like for him to see me leave. I’d always taken their sacrifices for granted until now, and I felt such deep shame for not having done more for them. They didn’t even want me around. They only cared about the money I brought into the house.
I stood up abruptly. “Dad, you’re upset because of me. I’m sorry, but I’m going to go pack my things. We can talk later. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be fine.”
I went to my bedroom and threw myself onto the bed. It was an awful thing to do to my father—to leave him feeling like that. But it hurt too, knowing that everything we’d worked for together had been thrown away. I lay there sobbing until I fell asleep, and when I woke up the next morning, I still hadn’t made any decisions about what to do next.
A knock came from the door and I opened my eyes to see him standing in the doorway.
“You need to come back,” he pleaded.
“Go away, Dad.” I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow.
“Please. We can work this out.”
“Don’t bother me again.”
He stared at me in silence. Then he took a step toward me. “You know this was all your fault,” he said quietly. “I wish I’d never met you.”
***
“You’re late today,” said Irene as Zoe walked in through the front entrance. She sat on a bench near the fireplace, reading a book. “We were already waiting for you when you finally arrived.”
Zoe nodded absently. It was hard to focus on anything when she knew exactly what her next story would be:
She had a new goal in mind. One last story—the ultimate novel, something no one else had ever written. All she needed was for the Library to buy it. Her dream would then become reality and she could finally return home.
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Was this really happening? It had seemed like such an impossible dream, but here it was. And now she needed to finish it before it slipped away forever.
Her gaze shifted to the window. Outside, she saw the snow falling against the gray winter sky. The cold wind cut through her thin sweater. How would they react if she left? What would happen to them?
She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and headed back into the office, where Irene waved a piece of paper in front of her face. “Here’s a copy of the manuscript I gave you yesterday,” she said, handing it over.
“Thanks,” said Zoe, taking the page from her.
“You don’t have to rush it,” Irene continued. “Just take as long as you need. I’m sure you have plenty of time.”
Zoe smiled weakly at her, trying to ignore the fear in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how much longer she would have before her deadline, and it was all up to her now. If she failed, then this dream of hers would die too.
“It shouldn’t take me too long,” she said. “I’ll have something to show you by Friday.”
“Excellent,” replied Irene. “Then we can discuss publication details.”
As she returned to her desk, she realized she was trembling. She’d spent most of her life being forced to follow orders, and suddenly, all those years of discipline had vanished. She no longer needed them to survive. For once, she could think freely without anyone holding a gun to her head or pushing her around. It was terrifying.
When Zoe reached her desk, she found the book with her name scrawled across the cover resting on top of her keyboard. She picked it up and flipped through the pages until she found the title: “The Book Thief.” The writing was beautiful—so simple, yet incredibly powerful.
“This is it!” she whispered to herself, closing the book and staring at the cover. It was perfect, exactly as she’d pictured it.
She sat down, eager to read the rest. As she turned the first page, her thoughts drifted back to the people who had inspired it. There was Kurt—her father—and Hans, the boy who shared her room. And there was Markus…
Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of him, but she quickly brushed them away. He didn’t deserve to feel sorry for himself, not after what he’d done to save her. Not when he’d gone through hell just so she could have this opportunity.
“It’s okay,” she muttered to herself, wiping her tears away. “It will work out.”
Zoe took a deep breath and started reading. When she finished the prologue, she set the book aside and went back to work, but as the afternoon wore on, her nerves grew worse. She tried not to dwell on her feelings, because there was nothing she could do about them now, except finish the book and get it published. If only she could stop thinking about what it meant for her life to be over if she failed…
It was getting dark outside when the front door burst open and Markus raced inside, carrying a suitcase. The second he saw Zoe sitting at her desk, he ran over, dropped his bag, and jumped onto the chair in front of her.
“I’m home! You made it!” he cried. “What took you so long?”
“Nothing. I’ve been working hard on my story,” she said.
“That’s great. So how are you feeling?”
Zoe shrugged. “Fine, I guess. It feels a little strange, being here without you.” She looked down at her hands.
“Why did you leave?” asked Markus.
Zoe bit her lip. “I couldn’t stay. The other students weren’t happy that I wrote about your escape. They wanted me expelled. My parents didn’t care what happened to me, so I decided I should go.”
“Are you coming back soon?”
Zoe shook her head. “No. I don’t have any money and I can’t go back home without being able to support myself. I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit.”
There was silence for a moment while she stared down at the papers scattered across her desk. Then Markus reached out and gently touched her hand, his expression full of concern.
“I’m going to miss you,” he told her, and Zoe knew he really meant it.
She smiled at him. “Me too. But we’ll be together again someday.”
He nodded, then leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss upon her lips.
For a few moments, it felt like everything else in her life had disappeared and nothing else mattered.
But then her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen: “Irene wants to meet. She says dinner tomorrow night.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes, we’re having dinner,” explained Irene. “And I want you to tell me everything about this book you’re writing because it sounds fascinating.”
Zoe laughed awkwardly. “Well…it’s kind of a long story…”
“So tell me over dinner,” suggested Irene. “We can talk books and music and politics; I can even give you some career advice if you like.”
“Okay,” said Zoe cautiously, “but…you already know all of my secrets, right? Why would you want to hear anything else from me?”
Irene sighed. “Because I’m a Libriomancer. That’s why. Now, where were we?”
***
The next evening, they met for dinner at an upscale French restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. Zoe wasn’t used to dressing up so much, but Irene had insisted on taking her shopping.
“You need clothes that suit a young woman who wants to make her mark on the world,” said Irene, leading her into the store and pushing her toward the changing room. “I also brought you a new laptop and a cell phone; both of which are loaded with useful apps. I think you might want to keep this one.”
“Oh, um…”
She held up a plain black leather case and Zoe’s stomach twisted in knots. She didn’t remember agreeing to let Irene take her things, but now that she had the chance, she realized the truth: she wouldn’t have been able to write this book without them. And she certainly wouldn’t have been able to come up with the idea for it.
She’d never forget the look on Markus’ face when she’d mentioned her story in the first place or the way his eyes had sparkled when she promised he could read it one day.
“I didn’t agree,” said Zoe. “I mean, I don’t want you to take my stuff away from me.”
“No, no,” protested Irene. “I promise I’m just borrowing them. You can ask me for whatever you need, whenever you want it—all I want is to help you succeed.”
Zoe bit her lip. It sounded like Irene was talking about more than just her book. “Do you know about the Library?” she asked hesitantly.
Irene’s eyes widened in surprise and something flitted through her gaze: amusement? Curiosity? “What does the Librarian say about her?”
“Not much, I’m afraid.”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
“Only that I love you.” Zoe smiled softly, wishing she’d known sooner that Irene felt the same way. “Thank you for letting me do what I love.”
Irene smiled back warmly and then turned to the shop clerk. “We’ll take this outfit and one more.”
Once the salesperson left, Irene leaned closer. “Did you get a chance to talk with Zoe’s friend Marcus today?”
Zoe nodded. “He helped me out after class, and we got to talking about books.”
“Really?” Irene cocked her head. “It’s nice to see two young people enjoying each other’s company. Especially when you consider that he almost died helping her earlier.”
“Yeah…” said Zoe. She still didn’t understand why it was so important to her that Markus hadn’t given up on her. He’d only been trying to protect her. “Anyway, we’re having lunch tomorrow before class.”
Irene nodded, clearly pleased. “Good for you, Zoe. I’m looking forward to seeing your story unfold. In fact…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps there’s a good reason why I should get to read it after all. After all, I am the librarian.”
As they stepped out of the store, Zoe looked up at the sky and frowned.
“What is it?” Irene asked as they headed for their car.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Irene stopped walking. Her smile vanished, replaced by concern. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Zoe shook her head quickly. “It’s nothing. Really.” But as soon as she spoke the words, another wave of dizziness hit her, and she clutched onto Irene’s arm, unable to keep herself upright. The air around her grew thick and fuzzy as if it had suddenly become coated in syrup.
They stood there for several minutes until finally, Irene sighed. “I guess that means you aren’t pregnant after all.”
Zoe glared at her, but Irene only chuckled.
“Come on,” she said gently as she pulled Zoe to her feet. “Let’s get you home. We don’t want you getting anyone’s hopes up.”
At least Irene was right about that part.
The End