Sarah Durst: Conjured

Eve stared at him. “Are you a friend of Malcolm’s?”

“Don’t know a Malcolm,” Zach said. “Not a common name. Never met an Eve, either, come to think of it. I will resist the obvious apple jokes, promise.”

So he wasn’t sent by Malcolm to watch her. “Apples?”

“Little-known facts about apples: apples are members of the rose family, it takes energy from fifty leaves to produce one fruit, and humans have been eating apples since at least sixty-five hundred BC. Bet you’re asking yourself how a handsome guy like me who can’t seem to stop talking ended up working in a library where the talking thing is not so condoned.”

She continued to stare at him, blinking once.

“Or perhaps you’re wondering about hairless cats. They’re less cuddly than you’d think. Also prone to sunburn. And oddly prone to more earwax, due to less ear hair. But I’m boring you. Cardinal sin when talking with a beautiful girl. Not to be confused with the original sin … And I promised no obvious jokes. Sorry. Don’t hate me.”

“I’ll try not to,” she said gravely.

“Now you’re just being polite.” He heaved a sigh.

Eve’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I’m not good at polite. I’m told I need to practice more.”

“You could decide to embrace a policy of total honesty, like I have. I don’t lie.”

She’d thought that was what people did. Malcolm and Aunt Nicki lied all the time. Right now, Malcolm was in Patti Langley’s office, undoubtedly lying to her. “That’s wonderful.”

“My parents think it’s annoying.”

“Do they lie?”

“It’s the only language they speak.” His voice was cheerful, but his eyes were sad. She wondered if that contradiction counted as a lie. “Hyperbole and sarcasm totally don’t qualify as lies,” he said. “There is truth in my pain.”

“Everything about me is a lie,” Eve said. She thought for a second and added, “Except my eyes.”

“You have pretty eyes,” Zach said.

“So I’ve been told.”

Sitting in a cracked leather chair in the library lobby, Eve flipped through the books that Zach had picked for her: a history of bread, a biography of a nature photographer, a book on bird migration, another on skyscrapers. Malcolm had taught her to read. She remembered him patiently showing her a few words. After that, the lessons were a blank, but they must have happened and they must have stuck. Or maybe she’d learned to read long ago, and he’d merely reminded her. Regardless, if she could remember the words, she should remember learning them. If she knew what a skyscraper was, she must have seen one. She thought of the flock of sparrows, black against the brilliant blue.

Stop , she told herself.

She couldn’t think like that. Worrying about what she did and didn’t know would only eat her up inside. She knew things but couldn’t remember how she knew them—the doctors said that was common with memory loss like hers. They said she had long-term memory loss, punctuated by bouts of short-term memory loss. But knowing it was common didn’t help. Eve stroked the book covers, their slick plastic wrapping sliding under her fingertips. She wondered how much truth was in these books, and if any of them featured girls who could change their eyes or cause birds to fly off wallpaper without knowing why.

Malcolm and the librarian, Patti, emerged from her office. “… very well, and I appreciate your frankness, Mr. Harrington.”

“And I appreciate your flexibility.”

Crossing the lobby, Patti beamed at Eve. “Congratulations, and welcome. You’ll start tomorrow.” She asked Malcolm, “Is nine to three acceptable for her schedule?”

“Perfect,” Malcolm said.

Eve stacked Zach’s books beside her and stood. “I like your library.”

“That’s nice, dear,” Patti said. “Just please remember, this is a safe haven for our patrons, and we’d like it to remain so. I will be watching.” Patti checked to make sure no one was looking at them, and then she reached up to her neck and flicked open the top two buttons of her blouse. She pulled the collar open. Two eyes were embedded on her sternum. The extra eyes blinked at Eve.

Eve clasped her hands together tightly so they wouldn’t shake. Her skin felt as if spiders were crawling all over her. But she kept her voice even and calm as she stared at the extra eyes. “Oh.”

Patti calmly rebuttoned her shirt.

Malcolm placed a hand on Eve’s shoulder. “We will return tomorrow.”

A few more words, a nod, a handshake, and then Malcolm steered Eve across the lobby. Looking over her shoulder, Eve gawked at Patti until they exited. Malcolm led her outside and down the ramp. Parked diagonally in a handicapped spot, Aunt Nicki waited in another agency car. The motor was running. Malcolm opened the back door, and Eve climbed inside. She fastened her seat belt without fumbling, and Malcolm patted her shoulder approvingly.

As Malcolm squeezed into the passenger seat, Aunt Nicki said, “Meeting rescheduled to today. Lou wants us in. We can pick up your car later.”

Malcolm sighed. “Today?”

“Poor baby. Busy day,” Aunt Nicki said. “How did it go in there?”

“Fine. Everything’s been arranged,” Malcolm said.

“The librarian has two extra eyes,” Eve said.

Aunt Nicki raised both of her eyebrows. “She showed that to Eve?”

“She was making a point,” Malcolm explained.

“Huh,” Aunt Nicki said.

Eve looked back at the building. She bet that Zach didn’t know about the extra eyes. She imagined what he would have said about them. She thought he might recite facts about flies or other multi-eyed creatures. “Is she from another world too?”

“Can you swing by Dunkin’ Donuts?” Malcolm asked, his voice mild. “What do you know about other worlds?”

“Nothing.” She stared at the library until it disappeared behind the trees.

No one spoke until Aunt Nicki turned into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. As she parked, Malcolm twisted in his seat to look at Eve. “Eve, would you like any coffee?”

“She’s too young for coffee,” Aunt Nicki said. “It’ll stunt her growth and make her boobs tiny. Get me a medium espresso, no milk or sugar.”

“She could have decaf,” Malcolm said.

“It’s a bad habit to start.”

“Smoking is a bad habit to start,” Malcolm said. “Chewing your fingernails, bad habit. Obsessively quoting eighties music, also bad. Decaf is nothing.”

“I’m fine,” Eve said. “Is she from my world?”

“You tell me,” Malcolm said.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”

Aunt Nicki laid her hand on Malcolm’s sleeve. “Just get the coffee.”

He didn’t move. “You might like a jelly donut. Remember, we ate them in the agency last week. You licked the jelly off your fingers. Lou wasn’t impressed with your manners. Said we should work on that.”

“Lou isn’t impressed by anything,” Aunt Nicki said. “He’s the only person I know who’s totally unimpressed by level five.”

Eve tried to dredge up a memory of a donut or Lou or level five. But she couldn’t. She reached inside her mind, and the thoughts skittered away like sand or mist. She concentrated harder, reached deeper … Blank.

“It’s an act,” Malcolm said to Aunt Nicki. “Thinks if he’s jaded, we’ll respect him more. Absolutely nothing wrong with displaying a little amazement or showing a little compassion. You ought to try it.”

“I am as warm and fuzzy as a kitten,” Aunt Nicki said.

“Toward her?” Malcolm asked.

“She just sits there. Doesn’t she know—”

“Don’t,” Malcolm said. “We agreed.”