in the library
But we can't erase the terrible memories that keep us awake at night. Or forget. No matter how many times I wish thoughts of my father could be scrubbed from the walls of my mind, the stains of his affections remain. The bleary red eyes of his worst drunken nights form the portrait of how I remember him. Always drunk and wanting, needing me.
I hear the library door open and lift my eyes. George pushes a cart into the room and approaches me. On the cart I see the day's mail, my lunch, and another martini. My George always knows what kind of day I want it to be without the trouble of telling him.
"A new book arrived in the mail and I took the liberty of adding a new song to your music playlist. Do let me know if you need anything else today."
I place the empty martini glass on the tray and examine the paperback novel next to my fresh cocktail.
"Did you read this book, George?" I ask, taking it in my hands and rubbing my fingers over the shiny cover.
"I did not, Ella. It just arrived this morning. There is a note attached." George hands me a note written on Holden Farms stationary. How odd?
I thought you might enjoy this story.
All my love,
"One more thing, Ella," George says. I lift my eyes to meet his. "There is to be a literary event next month at the bookstore. A Great Gatsby themed event. The invitation arrived today."
Taking the invitation in my hands, I close my eyes and drift into the music.