I stared harder at the photograph.
“Her glasses were yellow.”
Claire blinked.
“What?”
“Nora’s glasses. They were yellow.”
Claire looked down at the picture.
“They were purple.”
“No,” I said. “They were yellow.”
She stared at me for a moment.
Then she laughed.
“She painted them.”
“What?”
“With yellow nail polish. My mother almost lost her mind.”
The memory arrived so suddenly that I had to sit down.
A girl sitting cross-legged in thick yellow glasses, holding a paperback much too close to her face.
I still couldn’t remember what book she was reading.
But I remembered being annoyed with her.
“You want to go there?” Claire asked.
I looked up at her.
She immediately realized what she’d done.
“Sorry. Wrong question.”
A moment
passed.
Then she tried again.
“If you want to know where the picture came from, I’ll tell you here. Or I can show you. Or I can leave.”
It was the first thing she’d said all evening that didn’t sound as though she’d already decided what was best for me.
I grabbed my jacket.
“Take me to the library.”
Claire changed out of the green dress without saying another word.
Twenty minutes later, we were standing beneath the fluorescent lights inside the Pine Street branch.
The adult section looked completely unfamiliar to me.
The children’s room didn’t.
It was smaller than I remembered.
Far smaller.
I moved slowly past the shelves until I reached the back corner.
“There used to be a blue rug.”
Claire pointed. “Right there.”
Now the rug was gray.
I lowered myself into one of the small chairs at a little table.
My knees barely fit
underneath.
Claire remained near the doorway.
I looked around the room.
Then I noticed a display filled with adventure books.Read Bestsellers
Another piece of memory returned.
Nora slamming a book shut.
Me accusing her of skipping three pages.
