Page 4 of Ten Years and Then…
Daniel, September 27
Daniel crouched down to get a closer look at the bottom shelf. Every good find he’d made at Turn the Page—a used bookshop right off campus, just down the street from the Green Lantern Café—had come from the bottom shelf.
He guessed that most people simply didn’t look there, so anything really good got overlooked. It wasn’t surprising; kneeling on the concrete floor was painful, and they didn’t sweep or dust nearly often enough. But sometimes it was worth it. Like now—a copy of The Hobbit in perfect condition. He’d read it before, of course, but his copy at home had disappeared, probably borrowed and then lost by his sister.
He was about to stand up and bring his prize to the register when he heard a voice. Her voice.
She was just on the other side of the aisle. She was talking to someone. A friend, maybe? Her roommate? “Yeah, it’s trash. But it’s fun trash. Please buy it? Or I’ll even buy it for you. I want someone to talk about it with, okay?”
On the other side of the Fantasy/Science Fiction shelf was Romance. Daniel could name a few of the biggest romance authors because both his sister and mother read them, but he’d never actually looked at any of the books himself.
The girl continued badgering her companion. And then she started reading aloud. It was definitely trash, and he wasn’t sure he’d call it fun, except that it was because of how she was reading it. She was even doing character voices. He balled his hands into fists to try and keep himself from laughing. It was very difficult; this girl was hilarious.
She stopped after five minutes, halfway through a love scene—just before things got R-rated, he assumed—and her friend, or whoever she was, finally gave in. “Fine, Nora! I’ll read it! But you have to promise to let me pick something halfway decent for you to read in return.”
Nora!
He finally had a name to match the voice, and the laugh. And now he knew she wasn’t merely funny. She was beyond funny. Hilarious didn’t even really cover it.
He didn’t know what she looked like, but after everything he’d heard from her, that almost didn’t matter.
But what could he do with her name, and everything else he knew about her? He already knew she was a Journalism major, and most likely a freshman. That meant she’d have most of her classes in Addison Hall, and—unless she was local to Albany—she’d live in the freshman dorm, Morris Hall. It wouldn’t be difficult to meet her, knowing all that. But what would he do if he did? What would he say?
He wished there was a book somewhere on the dozens of shelves in this store that could tell him that.
Nora, September 29
“We already handed in the assignment. Why do you need to keep going over to the computer lab?” Until Tammy asked the question, Nora hadn’t consciously realized what she was doing. Or, more to the point, why she was doing it.
“I want to try out Word Perfect. See if it’s easier to use than my old typewriter.”
It didn’t sound believable to her own ears, and Tammy’s expression said very clearly that she didn’t buy it any more than Nora herself did. But, equally clearly, her classmate couldn’t think of any ulterior motive Nora might have to visit the computer lab. She just shrugged and said, “Have fun. I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” and headed for Whitman and, Nora assumed, an early lunch.
Nora made her way to Ellis Hall, shivering a bit at the unseasonable cold. It wasn’t even October yet—she shouldn’t need a jacket this soon. She jogged the last hundred feet or so, panting as she entered the building.
She actually did have a paper to work on, and she could try out Word Perfect, but now that she was here, she could admit to herself the real reason she wanted to go to the computer lab. He might be there. And maybe, just maybe, she’d see him today. Or—miracle of miracles—actually talk to him face to face.
She didn’t appear to be in luck; the computer lab was completely empty, both the main room with the CompuServe terminals, and the smaller room where the computers dedicated to word processing were set up. Well, at least she could start on her paper for 20th Century American Literature.
A half hour later, Nora had—she hoped—figured out enough about Word Perfect to get started writing. Once she got going, it was—much to her surprise—a lot easier than working on her typewriter. She quickly got into a rhythm, and got nearly two pages done before she was distracted by voices from the main room of the lab. Both male, but neither one of them was him.
An older man, probably a professor, was looking for someone. “I thought Mr. Keller would be here.”
He was answered by a younger man, definitely a student. “He’s usually here early, Professor Maddox. I’m not sure where he is.”
“I thought he’d want to help take this machine apart. Well, it’s his loss.”
Mr. Keller? Could that be him?
Nora didn’t have to wonder long. She heard footsteps, and then a voice—her voice—speaking through ragged breaths. “Sorry I’m late, Professor. My RA was having a minor crisis with her computer. I ran all the way over from West Hall as soon as I got her sorted out.”
The younger man said, “Good timing, Daniel. Professor Maddox was about to open up the PC here, he didn’t want you to miss out.”
“I can speak for myself, Mr. Thompson,” the professor said. “But he is correct. I’m glad you made it, Mr. Keller.”
Daniel Keller.
That was a good, solid name. For a good, solid guy. A guy who helped his RA, then sprinted across campus so he wouldn’t disappoint his professor. And whose professor thought enough about him to be disappointed by his absence.
