Page 7 of Best Year Ever

I could continue to play this game, or I can admit defeat. “So what do I do?” I ask.

She actually claps her hands and rubs them together.

It’s like she’s been waiting for me to ask.

She tells me what she wants me to do. I listen. I nod. I promise her I won’t chicken out.

And now, here’s something I’ve never done before. As soon as I close up the clinic for the evening, I walk over to the Chamberlain library.

It’s a perfect autumn evening, just starting to get chilly when the sun goes down, and it’s been a great day. I love fall in Vermont. And before anyone asks, that is why I’m smiling. Totally weather-related happiness.

Okay, that’s a lie.

I want see Sage again, and Kimberly’s given me not only permission (which, apparently, I needed), but a quest (which nobody ever needed, but she gave it to me anyway).

When I step inside the great big Gothic building, I see Sage sitting at the far side of the circulation desk, her back to me. A student catches my eye and asks, “Can I help you?”

I smile at him, but shake my head and say, “Thanks, I see what I came here for.”

Walking around the huge desk, I wonder if I should ditch Kimberly’s plan and just ask Sage out.

But I told her I’d try this her way. So here I go.

I put my elbows on the counter and lean in close to Sage. “Hi. I need your help with something,” I say. “I have a research question.”

She doesn’t answer me, doesn’t even look up, but I’m on this mission and I’ll keep going.

“I need to find a source for this quote, but the internet is failing me. The quote is attributed to all kinds of people. Singers. Politicians. Writers. At least two painters. Shakespeare.”

Nothing. Not even a glance.

“So I came to the research experts,” I say.

She starts typing on her keyboard. She must be getting into a database. Great. She’s with me. “Okay, so the quote must have been translated from some other language, because it’s found in a few different variations.”

She types some more and stares at the screen. A tiny smile hovers at the side of her mouth. I love that I’ve amused her.

“The most common way I’m seeing it is something like this: Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Her smile disappears and she leans closer to the monitor. She presses a few keys and clicks something.

No response.

“Sometimes it’s translated differently. Like, I’d like to take you out for dinner.”

Again. Nothing.

I can feel myself slumping. This was a dumb idea. “It doesn’t have to be dinner. Lunch works, too.”

She doesn’t even look at me.

“Sage?” I say.

Still nothing. Not even the basic courtesy of eye contact. What is happening?

Did I do something to offend her in our clinic appointment? Was I dismissive of her worry? Did I not listen well, and now she’s showing me what that looks like?

No. I gave her my professional best. As always.

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