Chapter 6 Chapter 5 A Good Man Is Hard to Find

In the second week of August, just before Maya started Kindergarten, she put on glasses (red circles) and got chickenpox (red circles), so AJ cursed at the person who told him the chickenpox vaccine was bad. The mother who can't beat it, because chickenpox has become a disaster in their family.Maya is in pain, and AJ is in pain because Maya is in pain.She had dots all over her face, and the air conditioner wasn't working, so no one in the family could sleep. AJ brought her a cold towel, peeled an orange for her to eat, put a sock on her hand, and stood guard by her bed. On the third day, at four o'clock in the morning, Maya fell asleep. AJ was exhausted, but couldn't relax.He had asked a clerk to fetch him a few sample books from the basement.Unfortunately, the clerk was new, and she took books from the "to be recycled" pile instead of the "to be read" pile. AJ didn't want to leave Maya's side, so he decided to read a sample book that hadn't been in stock before.At the top of the pile was a young adult fantasy novel in which the main character died.Uh, thought AJ.This book has two of his least favorites (dead narrators and young adult novels).He threw aside the book he had condemned to death.The second in the pile was the memoir of an octogenarian who had been single for most of his life, had worked as a science reporter for various Midwestern newspapers, and married at seventy-eight.His bride died two years after the wedding at the age of eighty-three.Late Blossoms by Leon Friedman.AJ felt familiar with this book, but didn't know why.He opened the sample book and out fell a business card: Knightley Press, Amelia Loman.Yes, he remembered now.

Of course, he and Amelia Loman had been seeing each other over the years since their awkward first meeting.They exchanged a few friendly e-mails, and she came in three times a year to report on Knightley's top hopeful hits.After spending about ten afternoons with her, he had recently come to the conclusion that she was pretty good at her job.She is familiar with her own bibliography and the more prominent literary trends.She's upbeat and positive, but doesn't oversell her company's book.She was good to Maya, too—always made sure to bring the little girl a Knightley children's book.Most importantly, Amelia Loman was professional, which meant she never brought up AJ's poor behavior when they first met.God, he used to be terrible to her.To make amends, he decided to give "Evening Blossoms" a chance, even though it still wasn't his genre.

"I am eighty-one years old, and statistically I should have died four and a half seven years ago," began the book. At five o'clock in the morning, AJ closed the book and patted it. Maya woke up feeling better. "Why are you crying?" "I'm reading." AJ said. Amelia didn't recognize the number, but she answered the phone at the first ring. "Hello, Amelia. I'm AJ Fikry from Kojima Books. I didn't expect you to answer the phone." "Indeed," she said with a smile, "I'm the last person in the world who still answers my phone."

"Yes," he said, "maybe you are." "The Catholic Church is considering canonizing me as a saint." "Saint Amelia on the phone," AJ said. AJ had never called her before, and she figured that must be the reason. "Are we meeting in two weeks, or do you have to cancel?" Amelia asked. "Oh no, not that. Actually, I just wanted to leave you a message." Amelia said mechanically, "Hi, this is Amelia Loman's voicemail. Beep." "Ok." "Beep," Amelia said again, "go ahead. Leave a message." "Well, hi Amelia, I'm AJ Fikry. I just finished reading a book you recommended to me—"

"Oh yes, which one?" "Strange, voicemail seems to be talking to me. This one is from a few years ago. Late Blooms by Leon Friedman." "Don't break my heart, AJ. That was definitely one of my favorites from that winter list four years ago. No one wanted to read it. I loved that book, and I still do! But I It’s hitting a wall all day long.” "Maybe it's the cover," AJ said unconvincingly. "Bad cover. Old people's feet, flowers," Amelia agreed, "as if anyone wants to think about old people's wrinkled feet, let alone buy a book with such feet on the cover. The paperbacks had a redesigned cover, and it didn’t help — black and white, more flowers. But covers are the punching bag of the book publishing industry, and we blame covers when we make mistakes.”

"I don't know if you remember the first time we met, you gave me "Late Twilight Blooms." Amelia paused. "Really? Yeah, that would make sense. That's when I first started doing it at Knightley." "Well, you know, I'm not actually a fan of literary memoirs, but this one, while modest in size, is brilliantly written. Wisdom and..." When it comes to what he likes, he There is a feeling of being naked. "keep going." "Every word is on point. It's basically the highest compliment I can give. My only regret is that it's been so long since I read it."

"This is really my life story. What made you finally pick up this book?" "My little girl is sick, so—" "Oh, poor Maya! I hope she's not very ill!" "Chicken pox. I stayed up all night with her and this book was the closest I had." "I'm so glad you finally read it," Amelia said, "I've begged everyone I know to read it, but no one has listened to me, except my mother, who's not easy to convince. " "Sometimes books don't resonate with us until the right time." "That's not much comfort to Mr. Friedman," said Amelia.

"Well, I'm going to order a case of paperbacks with an equally terrible cover. Also, when the summer visitors arrive, maybe we can have Mr. Friedman come over for an event." "If he lives that long," said Amelia. "Is he sick?" AJ asked. "No, but he seems to be ninety years old!" AJ laughed. "Well, Amelia, see you in two weeks, I suppose." "Maybe next time I tell you what's the best book on the winter list, you'll listen to me!" said Amelia. "Probably not. I am old, and I am stereotyped in all aspects, and my nature is hard to change."

"You're not that old yet," she said. "Not as old as Mr. Friedman, I suppose." AJ cleared his throat. "Maybe we can have dinner or something when you come over." There's nothing unusual about a sales rep having dinner with a bookstore owner, but Amelia picks out AJ's tone and clarifies, "We can go through the latest winter list." "Yes, of course," AJ replied too quickly, "It's too far for you to come to Alice Island, you will be hungry. I never suggested it before, I was rude." "Then let's have lunch later," Amelia said. "I need to take the last ferry back to Hyannis."

AJ decides to take Amelia to Pequod's, the second best seafood restaurant on Alice Island.The best Corazon restaurant is closed for lunch, and even if it were open, Corazon would seem too romantic for a meeting that was nothing more than business. AJ goes first, and that gives him time to regret his choice.Before adopting Maya, he stopped going to Pequod's restaurant, which was decorated in an embarrassing and touristy style.There were whaling harpoons, nets, raincoats on the walls, a captain carved out of a log at the door, holding a barrel of saltwater taffy for free tasting, and tasteful white linen tablecloths. How much attention can be diverted.A fiberglass whale hangs from the ceiling, with tiny eyes and a sad expression. AJ senses the whale's judgment: Should have gone to Corazon, man.

Amelia was five minutes late. "Peiquord, like the one in the movie," she said.She was wearing what looked like a repurposed crocheted tablecloth over an old-fashioned pink petticoat.She had a fake daisy in her blond curls and wore galoshes, despite the fact that it was a sunny day. AJ felt that the galoshes made her look like a Boy Scout, always ready for disaster. "Do you like it?" he asked. "I hate it," she said, "a lot of stuff I wouldn't say hate. Parents are happy when the teacher assigns this book because their kids are reading 'quality' stuff. But forcing kids to read that Kind of like making them feel like they hate reading.” "I'm kind of surprised you didn't cancel the appointment with the restaurant's name." "Oh, I thought about it," she said with joy in her voice, "but I reminded myself that this is just the name of a restaurant, so it shouldn't affect the quality of the food. In addition, I checked the reviews on the Internet, and it is said that It tastes good here." "you do not believe me?" "I just like to think about what I'm going to eat before I get here. I like—" she draws out the word—"to have—expect—expect." She flipped through the menu, "I see They have a few cocktails named after characters from the movie." She turned the page, "And then again, if I didn't want to eat here, I'd probably make up that I'm allergic to shellfish." "Fake food allergies, you're so sneaky," AJ said. "I can't do that to you now." The waiter wore a puffy white shirt that obviously didn't match his dark glasses and cockscomb.That kind of attire is hipster among pirates. "Hey, landlubber," said the waiter dryly, "try a themed cocktail?" “I usually order old fashioned cocktails, but how can you resist ordering a themed cocktail?” she said. "A Queequeg, please." She took the waiter's hand. "Wait. Is that good?" "Well," said the waiter, "the tourists seem to like it." "Well, since tourists like..." she said. "Well, let me be clear first, does that mean you want to have that cocktail or not?" "I'd definitely like some," Amelia said. "Anyway, here we go." She smiled at the waiter. "If it's bad, I won't blame you." AJ ordered a glass of the restaurant's house red wine. "What a pity," said Amelia, "I dare say you haven't had a Queequeg once in your life, despite the fact that you live here, and you sell books, and you probably even like it." "You're obviously better evolved than me," AJ said. "Yes, I can see that. After I drink this cocktail, my whole life may be changed." Here comes the wine. "Oh look," Amelia said, "a little harpoon with a shrimp on it, what a surprise." She pulled out her phone to snap a photo. "I love taking pictures of my wine." "They're like family," AJ said. "They're better than family." She raised her glass to touch AJ's. "How?" AJ asked. "Salty, fruity, fishy, ​​kind of like a prawn cocktail decided to woo a 'Bloody Mary.'" "I like your way of saying it, 'showing love.' Oh, and that wine sounds disgusting." She took another sip, then shrugged. "I'm starting to like it." "Which novel would you rather eat at a restaurant based on?" AJ asked her. "Oh, it's hard to say. It doesn't make sense, but when I was in college, I often felt hungry because of the descriptions of bread and soup in Soviet prisons." Amelia said. "You're weird," AJ said. "Thanks. Where are you going?" Amelia asked. "Not exactly a restaurant, but I've always wanted to try the Turkish Delight mentioned in the book. When I was a kid reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, I often wondered if the Turkish Delight made Edmund betray his own. family, it must be unbelievably delicious.” AJ said, “I thought I must have told my wife about it, because Nicole gave me a box for the holidays one year. Turns out it was A sticky sugar with powder on it. I don't think I've ever been so disappointed in my life." "Your childhood officially ended at that point." "I'll never be the same again," AJ said. "Maybe the White Witch's is different, and the enchanted Turkish Delight tastes better." "Or maybe Lewis was trying to show that Edmund didn't need to be coaxed to betray his family." "That's a sharp word," said Amelia. "Have you ever had Turkish Delight, Amelia?" "No," she said. "I've got to get you some," he said. "What if I really like it?" she asked. "I'll probably look down on you." "Well, I wouldn't lie to please you, AJ. One of my strongest qualities is honesty." "You just told me you would have feigned a seafood allergy to avoid eating here," AJ said. "Yes, but that's just so as not to hurt the customer's feelings. I would never lie about something as important as Turkish Delight." They ordered food, and Amelia took out her winter catalog from her tote bag. "There, Knightley," she said. "Knightley," he said again. She skimmed through the winter list, ruthlessly skimming the books that would not interest him, emphasizing the ones the publishers had high hopes for, and saving the most whimsical adjectives for those she liked the most.For some clients, you'll have to mention whether the book has adverts, those often overblown praises from established authors printed on the back cover. AJ is not that kind of client.The second or third time they met, he had said the slogans were "the blood diamond of publishing."She knew him a little better now, and needless to say, the process wasn't so hard for her.He trusts me more, she thinks, or maybe it's just being a dad that calms him down. (It's wise to keep thoughts like these to yourself.) AJ agreed to read a few trial copies. "I hope it doesn't take four years," said Amelia. "I'm going to try to read them all in three years." He paused. "Let's have dessert," he said. "They've got a 'whale sundae,' or something." Amelia sighed and said, "This kind of word play is really bad." "So, if you don't mind, I would like to ask why you like "Late Blooming" best in that list? You are a young—" "I'm not that young anymore. I'm thirty-five." "That was young," AJ said. "I mean, you probably haven't lived much of the life Mr. Friedman describes. I read the book, and now I look at you and wonder how it could resonate with you." "My God, Mr. Fikry, that's a very personal matter." She sipped the last drop of her second Queequeg. "I love that book, mainly for the way it's written, of course." "Of course, but that's not enough." "Let's just put it this way, by the time Late Blossoms hits my desk, I've had many, many failed dates. I'm a romantic, but sometimes those failures count in my eyes. Not romantic. Late Blossoms is about the possibility of finding great love at any age. It sounds corny, I know." AJ nodded. "What about you? Why do you like it?" Amelia asked. "The level of writing, etc." "I thought we couldn't talk like that!" said Amelia. "You don't want to hear my sad stories, do you?" "Of course I want to hear it," she said. "I like hearing sad things." He briefly told her about Nicole's death. "Friedman wrote about the unique feeling of losing someone, and why it wasn't just a thing. He wrote about how you lose, and lose, and lose." "When did she die?" Amelia asked. "It's been a while now. I was only a little bit older than you are now." "That must have been a long time ago," she said. He ignored her joke. "Late Blossoms should really be a bestseller." "I know. I'm thinking of having someone read a passage at my wedding." AJ hesitates. "You're getting married, Amelia, congratulations. Who's that lucky guy?" She swirled the harpoon through the tomato-juice-colored Queequeg, trying to get at the AWOL shrimp. "His name is Brett Brewer. I met him online when I was about to give up." AJ drank the astringent bottom of his second glass of wine. "Talk to me more." "He's in the military, he's in the military overseas, he's in Afghanistan." "Not bad, you're marrying an American hero," AJ said. "I think so." "I hate those guys," he said, "they make me utterly ashamed. Tell me what's wrong with him and make me feel better." "Well, he's not much at home." "You must miss him very much." "I do. But then I'll have time to read a lot." "Very well. Does he read, too?" "Actually, he doesn't read, he's not much of a reader. But it's kind of interesting, right? I mean, it's kind of fun, um, with someone who has very different interests than mine. I don't know Why do I keep saying 'interest'. The point is, he's a nice guy." "Is he nice to you?" She nodded. "That's the most important thing. Nobody's perfect anyway," AJ said. "Probably someone forced him to read it in middle school." Amelia sticks to her shrimp. "Got it," she said, "your wife . . . does she like to read?" "I'm still writing. But I don't worry about that. Everyone thinks highly of reading. Watch so many good things on TV, such as "True Blood." "You're making fun of me." "Ha! Books are for nerds," AJ said. "Nerds like us." When the bill came, AJ paid, despite the fact that it was customary in this case for the sales agent to foot the bill. "Are you sure you want to pay this?" Amelia asked. AJ told her she could foot the bill next time. Outside the restaurant, Amelia and AJ shook hands and exchanged the usual professional courtesies.She turned and walked towards the ferry, and after an important second, he also turned and walked towards the bookstore. "Hey, AJ," she yelled, "There's something heroic about opening a bookstore, and there's something heroic about adopting a child." "I just did what I could." He bowed.Halfway through the bow, he realized that he was not very good at bowing, and immediately stood up straight again. "Thank you, Amelia." "My friends call me Amy," she said. Maya had never seen AJ so busy. "Dad," she asked, "why do you have so much homework?" "Some are extracurricular," he said. "What does 'extracurricular' mean?" "If I were you, I'd check it out." For someone who runs a small business in addition to a talking, kindergarten-going daughter, reading a full season of titles—even for a modest publisher like Knightley—requires Spend a lot of time.Every time he finishes reading a Knightley book, he emails Amelia with his thoughts.In emails, he couldn't bring himself to use the nickname "Amy," even though he had been given permission.Sometimes if he does feel connected to something, he calls her.If he hated a book, he'd text her: "Not for me." Never before had Amelia been so focused on a client. "Don't you have any books from other publishers to read?" Amelia texted him. AJ thought for a long time how to reply.The first draft was "I don't like other sales reps the way I like you," but he thought that was presumptuous in the eyes of a girl with an American hero fiancé.He rewrote: "I think it's because this Knightley book is fascinating." AJ has ordered so many Knightley books that even Amelia's boss has noticed. "I've never seen so many of our books coming in from a small client like Kojima Bookstore," said the boss. "New boss?" "Same boss," said Amelia, "but he's not the same as when I first met him." "Well, you must have worked hard on him. That guy doesn't buy unsold books," said the proprietor. "Harvey never got so many orders at Isle Books." Finally, AJ read the last book.Here's a beautiful memoir about life as a mother, adding to your scrapbook and writing, by a Canadian poet AJ has always loved.The book was only one hundred and fifty pages long, but it took AJ two weeks to read it.There doesn't seem to be a chapter in which he doesn't fall asleep while reading it, or have Maya interrupt him.After reading it, he found he couldn't tell Amelia what he thought of the book.The book was good enough that he thought it would resonate with the women who frequented the store.The problem, of course, was that once he got back to Amelia, he'd finished reading Knightley's winter list, and he'd have no reason to contact Amelia until the summer list came out.He likes her and thinks she might like him too, even though their first encounter was abysmal.But... AJ Fikry isn't the type to think it's okay to steal someone's fiancée.He doesn't believe that there is any "one and only hit". There are thousands of people in the world, and no one is so special.Plus, he barely knew Amelia Loman.For example, what if he did pry her over, only to find that they were not harmonious in bed? Amelia texted him: "What's wrong? Don't you like it?" "Unfortunately not for me," AJ replied, "Looking forward to seeing Knightley's summer list. AJ" The reply struck Amelia as too businesslike and perfunctory, and she considered making a phone call, but didn't.She texted back anyway: "While you're looking forward, you should definitely watch True Blood." True Blood was Amelia's favorite TV show.It's become something of a running joke between them—as long as AJ watches True Blood, he'll like vampires.Amelia imagined herself to be something like Suki Stackhouse. "I'm not watching Amy," AJ wrote. "See you in March." There are still four and a half months until March. AJ sensed that by then, his little love affair would surely evaporate, or at least go dormant, and that would make him feel better. There are still four and a half months until March. Maya asked him what was wrong, and he told her that he was upset because he hadn't seen his friend for a while. "Amelia?" Maya asked. "How do you know it's her?" Maya rolled her eyes, and AJ wondered when and where she learned that move. That night, Lambiase hosted his "Sheriff's Picks" ("LA Confidential") at the bookstore, after which he shared a bottle of wine with AJ, as was their old habit . "I think I've met someone," AJ said, beaming after a glass of wine. "Good news," Lambiase said. "The problem is, she's engaged to someone else." "It's bad timing," Lambiase said. "I've been a police officer for twenty years now, and I'll tell you, almost every bad thing in life is the result of bad timing. Every good thing, It’s all about the right timing.” "That seems to oversimplify things." "Think about it. If Timur hadn't been stolen, you wouldn't have left the door unlocked, and Marianne Wallace wouldn't have left her child in the bookstore. That's just timing." "True. But I met Amelia four years ago," AJ argued. "I just didn't bother to pay attention to her until a few months ago." "It was bad timing. Your wife had just died, and then you had Maya." "That's not very comforting," AJ said. "But listen, it's nice to know your heart is still working, right? Want me to set you up with someone?" AJ shakes his head. "Try it," Lambiase refused to give up, "I know everyone in this town." "Unfortunately, the town is small." As a warm-up, Lambiase arranges for AJ to go on a date with his cousin.The cousin had blond hair with black roots, over-plucked eyebrows, a heart-shaped face, and a Michael Jackson-like high-pitched voice.She wears a low-necked top and a push-up bra, holding up a small unassuming platform on which the necklace she wears bears her name rests.Her name is Maria.Over sticks of mozzarella, they had nothing to talk about. "Which book is your favorite?" AJ managed to get her to speak. She chewed on sticks of mozzarella and clutched the necklace with her name on it like a rosary. "It's some kind of test, isn't it?" "No, no answer is wrong," AJ said, "I'm just curious." She took a sip of wine. "Or you can say which book has had the greatest impact on your life. I just want to know a little bit more about you." She took another sip of her wine. "Or tell me what you've been reading lately?" "The last thing I read..." She frowned. "The last thing I read was this menu." "Then the last thing I've read is your necklace," he said, "Maria." Afterwards the meal went very well.He would never know what Maria read. Next, Margini at the bookstore sets him up on a date with her neighbor, a feisty female firefighter named Rosie.Rosie has black hair with blue highlights, extra muscular arms and a loud laugh, and she paints her short nails red with orange flames.Rosie, a champion hurdler in college, loved reading sports history, especially the memoirs of athletes. On their third date, AJ cut her off while she was describing a highlight sequence from Jose Canseco's How to Get Big. "Did you know that all those books were ghostwritten?" Rosie said she knew and she didn't care. "These high performers are so busy training, how can they have time to learn to write a book?" "But these books . . . my opinion is that they are fundamentally lies." Rosie poked her head toward AJ, tapping her bright red nails on the table. "You're a snob, you know? That makes you miss a lot." "Someone told me that before." "Your life is the memoir of an athlete," she said. "You train hard, you succeed, but at the end of the day your body fails and it's over." "Sounds like a late Philip Roth novel," he said. Rosie crossed her arms. "You say that to look smart, don't you?" she said, "but really, you're just making people feel stupid." After making love in bed that night (doing it like a wrestling), Rosie rolled over him and said, "I'm not sure I want to see you again." "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier," he said, pulling back on his pants, "that memoir thing." She waved her hand, "Don't worry, you are that kind of person." He suspected that she was right, that he was indeed a snob, not suitable for a relationship.He would raise his own daughter, manage his own bookstore, read his own books, and he figured that would be enough. At Ismay's insistence, it was determined that Maya would learn to dance. "You don't want to owe her anything, do you?" Ismay said. "Of course not," AJ said. "Well," said Ismay, "dancing is important, not only in shape, but also in social interactions. You don't want her to end up stunted." "I don't know. Isn't the idea of ​​signing up a little girl to dance lessons a bit old-fashioned and sexist?" AJ wonders if Maya is good enough to dance.Even though she is only six years old, she prefers to use her brain - books are always in hand, she is comfortable at home or in a bookstore. "She's not stunted," he said. "She's reading chapters now." "Intellectually not," Ismay insisted, "but she seems to want only your company, and no one else, not even friends of the same age. Maybe it's not healthy." "Why not healthy?" At this moment, AJ felt an uncomfortable tingling in his spine. "She'll end up just like you," Ismay said. "Then what's the problem?" Ismay made a face as if the answer to the question was obvious. "Look, AJ, it's just the two of you in your own little world. You never dated—" "I'm on a date." "You never travel—" AJ interrupts her. "We're not talking about me." "Stop being so argumentative. You asked me to be your godmother, and I tell you now, enroll your daughter in dance lessons. I'll pay for it, so stop arguing with me." There is only one dance studio on Alice Island, and only one class accepts five or six-year-old girls.Mrs. Olenska is both boss and teacher.She was in her sixties, and although not obese, she had loose skin, suggesting that her bones had shrunk over the years.Her always-bejeweled fingers seem to have an extra knuckle.The children were both fascinated and terrified of her. AJ felt the same way.When he sent Maya there for the first time, Mrs. Olenska said, "Mr. Fikry, you are the first man to have set foot in this dance room in twenty years. We must thank you for your kindness." She said it with a Russian accent, and it sounded like some sort of sexual invitation, but what she needed was mostly physical labor.For the holiday show, he built and painted a giant crate that looked like a child's block, used a hot glue gun to make bulging eyes, bells and flowers, and made shiny pipe cleaners into whiskers and antennae. (He doubts he'll ever get the glitter out of his nails again.) He spent most of his free time that winter with Madame Olenska, and he knew a great deal about her.For example, Mrs. Olenska's star student was her daughter, who was dancing in a Broadway show, and Mrs. Olenska hadn't spoken to her in too long.She wagged her extra-jointed fingers at him. "Don't let this happen to you." She looked out of the window with an exaggerated expression, and then turned to AJ, "You will buy advertising space on the program list, yes." This is not a question.Kojima Books became the sole sponsor of The Nutcracker and Rudolph and Friends, and there was a holiday coupon for Kojima Books on the back of the program. AJ even went the extra mile, offering a dance-themed book gift basket for a raffle, with proceeds going to the Boston Ballet. AJ stood at the lottery table watching the show, exhausted and mildly flu-like.Because the performance is arranged according to dance skills, Maya's group took the lead.She was a particularly enthusiastic, if not a particularly graceful mouse.She let go and ran, her nose wrinkled like a mouse.She wags her pipe-cleaner tail, which he has painstakingly coiled.He knew she couldn't eat dancing. Ismay, who was helping out at the raffle table, handed him a Kleenex. "Cold," he said. "Of course it's cold," said Ismay. At the end of the evening, Mrs. Olenska said: "Thank you, Mr. Fikry, you are a good man." "Maybe I have a good boy." He still needed to get his mouse out of the dressing room. "Yes," she said, "but that's not enough. You must find yourself a good woman." "I like my life," AJ said. "You think that having a child is enough, but the child will grow up. You think that having a job is enough, but work is not like a warm body." He suspected that Mrs. Olenska had already drank several glasses of Su Hong vodka. "Happy holidays, Madame Olenska." As he walked home with Maya, he pondered what the teacher had said.He has been celibate for nearly six years.Sadness was too much for him to bear, but living alone he never particularly cared about.Plus, he didn't want a warm but aging body, he wanted Amelia Loman, with her big chest and terrible dress.At least someone like her. It started to snow, and snowflakes clung to Maya's beard.He wanted to take a picture, but he didn't want to stop and take a picture. "Beards suit you," AJ told her. This compliment of her beard leads to a barrage of comments about the performance, but AJ is absent-minded. "Maya," he said, "do you know how old I am?" "Yes," she said, "twenty-two." "I'm much bigger than that." "Eighty-nine?" "I..." He raised his palms four times, and then stretched out three fingers. "Forty-three?" "Fine. I'm forty-three, and what I've learned over the years is that it's better to love and then lose, blah blah, than to be with someone you don't really like.的是一个人过。你同意吗？” 她严肃地点点头，她的老鼠耳朵几乎要掉了。 “不过有时候，我会厌倦吸取教训。”他低头看着女儿困惑的脸，“你的脚快湿了吧？” 她点点头，他蹲下来，好让她趴到他的背上。“搂住我的脖子。”她爬上去后，他站立起来，呻吟了一两声，“你比以前重了。” 她抓住了他的耳垂。 "What is this?" she asked. “我以前戴耳环。”他说。 “为什么？”她问，“你当过海盗吗？” “我当时年轻。”他说。 “跟我这么大？” “比你要大。有那么一个女孩。” “一个姑娘？” “一个女人。她喜欢一支名叫'治疗'的乐队，她觉得把我的耳朵扎个眼挺酷。” 玛雅想了想。“你养过鹦鹉吗？” “没有，我有过女朋友。” “那只鹦鹉会说话吗？” “不会，因为没养过鹦鹉。” 她想捉弄一下他：“那只鹦鹉叫什么？” “没养过鹦鹉。” “但是如果你养过的话，你会叫那只雄鹦鹉什么？” “你怎么知道是只雄鹦鹉？”他问道。 “哈！”她把手放到嘴边，身子开始往后倾。 “搂住我的脖子，要不然你会掉下去的。也许是只雌的，叫艾米？” “鹦鹉艾米。我就知道。你有一艘船吗？”玛雅问。 “有的。船上有书，事实上那是一艘考察船。我们做很多研究。” “你把这个故事讲坏了。” “这是事实，玛雅。有杀人的海盗，也有做研究的海盗，你的爸爸是后一种。” 冬天时，小岛书店从来不是很多人都想去的地方，但是那一年，艾丽丝岛上出奇的寒冷。马路成了溜冰场，渡轮一取消就是好几天。就连丹尼尔·帕里什也不得不待在家里。他写得不多，躲开他的妻子，其他时间都跟AJ和玛雅待在一起。 跟大多数女人一样，玛雅喜欢丹尼尔。他来书店时，不会因为她是个孩子，就在跟她说话时把她当成什么都不懂。尽管才六岁，玛雅就不待见那些居高临下跟她说话的人。丹尼尔总是问她在读什么书，她在想什么。另外，他有着浓密的金色眉毛，说话的声音让她想到绵缎。 就在进入新年大约一周后的一天下午，丹尼尔和玛雅坐在书店的地板上读书，这时她扭头跟他说：“丹尼尔叔叔，我有个问题。你难道从来不用工作吗？” “我现在就在工作，玛雅。”丹尼尔说。 她摘下眼镜，在衬衫上面擦了擦。“你看样子不像在工作啊，你看样子在读书。你难道没有一个可以去上班的地方吗？”她又进一步阐述道，“兰比亚斯是个警官。爸爸是个卖书的。你是干吗的？” 丹尼尔把玛雅抱起来，把她抱到小岛书店的本地作家专架那里。出于对其连襟的礼貌，丹尼尔的书在AJ的书店里全有存货，但只有一本卖得动，即他的处女作《苹果树上的孩子们》。丹尼尔指着书脊上自己的名字。“这就是我，”他说，“这就是我的工作。” 玛雅瞪圆了眼睛。“丹尼尔·帕里什。你写书，”她说，“你是个——”她说这个词时带着敬意——“作家。这本书是写什么的？” “是关于人类的愚蠢。这是个爱情故事，还是个悲剧。” “那样说得很笼统啊。”玛雅告诉他。 “说的是一位一辈子都在照顾别人的护士。她出了车祸，在她这一辈子里，第一次别人得照顾她。” “听着好像不是我会去读的。”玛雅说。 “有点老套，呃？” “不——”她不想伤害丹尼尔的感情，“只是我喜欢情节更丰富的书。” “情节更丰富，啊？我也是。好消息呢，费克里小姐，我一直都在读书，我在学习怎样写得更好。”丹尼尔解释道。 玛雅想了想。“我想做这种工作。” “很多人都想，小姑娘。” “我怎样才能做上呢？”玛雅问。 “读书，就像我说过的。” 玛雅点点头。“我读的。” “一张好椅子。” “我有一张。” “那你就完全上路了，”丹尼尔告诉她，然后把她放下来，“以后我会教你其他的。有你做伴真好，你知道吗？” “爸爸也是这么说的。” “他是个聪明人，幸运儿，好人。你也是个聪明的孩子。” AJ叫玛雅上楼吃饭。“你想跟我们一起吃吗？”AJ问他。 “我觉得有点早，”丹尼尔说，“况且我还有工作要做。”他朝玛雅挤了一下眼睛。 终于，三月到了。道路解冻了，一切都变得污秽不堪。渡轮服务恢复了，丹尼尔·帕里什又开始了漫游。销售代表们带着夏季的书目来到这里，AJ不辞辛劳地对他们热情相待。他开始以打领带来向玛雅表明他“在工作”，与“在家”相区别。 或许因为这是他最期待的会面，他把阿米莉娅的上门推销安排到了最后。在他们约定日期的前两周，他给她发了条短信：“你觉得裴廓德餐厅可以吗？还是你更想试试新地方？” “这次去裴廓德我请客。”她回复道，“你看《真爱如血》了吗？” 那年冬天的天气特别不方便人们社交，所以晚上玛雅入睡后，AJ看完了四季《真爱如血》。他挺快就看完了，因为他比预期的更喜欢——它把几种元素杂糅在一起：弗兰纳里·奥康纳式的南方哥特风格、《厄舍古屋的倒塌》加上《罗马帝国艳情史》。他一直计划着阿米莉娅来到这里后，随意引用他所掌握的《真爱如血》的知识，让她叹服。 “来了你就知道。”他写道，但是没有按发送键，因为他觉得这则短信听着调情意味太浓。他不知道阿米莉娅的婚礼定的是什么时候，所以现在她有可能是位已婚女士。“下星期四见。”他写道。 星期三，他接到一个电话，是陌生号码。打来电话的是布雷特·布鲁尔，那位美国英雄，他的声音听起来就像《真爱如血》中的比尔。AJ认为布雷特·布鲁尔的口音是装出来的，但是显然，一位美国英雄不需要伪装出南方口音。“费克里先生，我是布雷特·布鲁尔，打电话是为阿米莉娅的事。她出了点意外，所以让我告诉您她得改一下你们见面的时间。” AJ扯松领带。“但愿不严重。” “我一直想让她别穿那种橡胶套鞋。下雨时穿不错，可是在冰上就有点危险了，你知道吗？嗯，她在普罗维登斯这里结了冰的几级台阶上滑了一下——我跟她说过会出那种事的——她的脚踝骨折了。她目前正在手术中，所以没什么严重的，不过她要卧床一段时间。” “请代我向您的未婚妻问好，行吗？”AJ说。 对方有一阵子没说话，AJ不知道是不是电话掉线了。“会的。”布雷特·布鲁尔说完就挂断了电话。 阿米莉娅的伤势不是很严重，这让AJ松了口气，但还是对她来不了感到有点失望（还因为那位美国英雄的的确确还存在于她的生活中这个消息）。 他考虑要送阿米莉娅一束花或者一本书，但最终决定发条短信。他想引用《真爱如血》中的台词，能让她笑起来的什么话。他就此搜索谷歌时，那些引语似乎全都颇具调情意味。他写道：“很遗憾你受伤了。一直盼望听听奈特利出版社夏季书单上都有什么。希望我们可以很快重新安排时间。另外，我这话说得可是不容易——'给贾森·斯塔克豪斯喂吸血鬼的血，就好像给糖尿病患者奶油巧克力蛋糕'。” 六个小时后，阿米莉娅回复道：“你看了！！！” AJ：“我看了。” 阿米莉娅：“我们可以通过电话或者Skype把书单过一下吗？” AJ：“什么是'Skype'？” 阿米莉娅：“我什么都得教你吗？！” 阿米莉娅解释了什么是Skype之后，他们决定那样见面。 AJ很高兴见到她，哪怕只能在显示器上。在她梳理书单时，他发现自己几乎无法集中注意力。画面里她身后那些具备阿米莉娅特性的东西让他入了迷：一个玻璃食品罐，里面插满即将枯萎的向日葵，一份瓦萨学院的文凭（他如是认为），一个赫敏·格兰杰模样的摇头娃娃，一张放在镜框里的照片，他想照片上是年轻的阿米莉娅和她的父母，一盏上面搭着小圆点围巾的台灯，一个样子像是基思·哈林画作中的订书机，一本AJ看不出书名是什么的旧书，一瓶亮闪闪的指甲油，一只发条龙虾，一对吸血鬼的塑料尖牙，一瓶未开的好香槟，一个—— “AJ，”阿米莉娅打断了他，“你在听吗？” “在听，当然，我在……”盯着你的东西看？“我不习惯Skype。我可以把'Skype'当动词用吗？” “我觉得《牛津英语词典》还没有考虑这件事，不过我认为你用着没事。”她说，“我刚才只是在说奈特利的夏季书单上不是有一本，而是有两本短篇小说集。” 阿米莉娅接着说那两本短篇小说集，AJ继续偷看。那是本什么书？太薄了，不会是《圣经》或者词典。他往前凑，试图看得更清楚些，但是磨损了的烫金字在视频会议中还是颜色淡得认不出来。真是讨厌，他没法放大或改变角度去看。她没在说话了。显然，她需要AJ的回应。 “对，我盼望读到。”他说。 “太棒了。我今天或明天就给你寄去。那么等秋季书目出来了再说吧。” “但愿到那时你能亲自过来。” “能的，绝对能。” “那是什么书？”AJ问。 “什么什么书？” “那本靠着台灯的旧书，在你后面的桌子上。” “你想知道，是吗？”她说，“那是我的最爱。是我父亲送给我的大学毕业礼物。” “那么，是什么书呢？” “如果你哪天能来一趟普罗维登斯，我会让你看看的。”她说。 AJ看着她。这听上去也许语带调情，只不过她说这话时低头看着所做的笔记，根本没抬头。However…… “布雷特·布鲁尔好像人挺不错的。”AJ说。 "what?" “他打电话给我说你受了伤，没法来的时候。”AJ解释道。 "right." “我觉得他说起话来就像《真爱如血》中的比尔。” 阿米莉娅大笑起来。“你瞧你，随随便便就掉一下《真爱如血》的书袋。下次我见到布雷特时，得跟他说说。” “对了，婚礼是什么时候？还是已经举办过了？” 她抬头看着他。“事实上，婚礼取消了。” “对不起。”AJ说。 “有段时间了，圣诞节的时候。” “因为是他打的电话，我才想着……” “他当时正好闯上门来。我跟我的前男友们努力做朋友，”阿米莉娅说，“我就是那种人。” AJ知道自己冒昧了，但还是忍不住问：“出了什么事呢？” “布雷特人很不错，但悲哀的事实是，我们真的没有多少共同点。” “情趣相投的确挺重要。”AJ说。 阿米莉娅的手机响了。“是我妈妈，我得接这个电话，”她说，“几个月后见，好吗？” AJ点头。Skype断掉了，阿米莉娅的状态变成了“离开”。 他打开浏览器，搜索下面的短语：“教育性家庭景点，普罗维登斯，罗得岛。”没搜到什么很特别的：一家儿童博物馆、一家玩具娃娃博物馆、一座灯塔和一些他在波士顿更容易去到的地方。他选定了朴茨茅斯的一座格林动物造型园艺公园。不久前，他和玛雅看过一本绘本，里面有园艺造型的动物，她似乎对这个主题有点兴趣。另外，他们出一下小岛也挺好，对吧？他会带玛雅去看那些动物，然后往普罗维登斯拐一下，去看望一位生病的朋友。 “玛雅，”当天晚饭时他说，“你觉得去看一头巨大的园艺造型而成的大象怎么样？” 她看了他一眼。“你的声音听着怪怪的。” “那挺酷的，玛雅。你记得我们看过的里面有园艺造型动物的那本书吗？” “你是说，在我小的时候。” “对，我发现这个地方有座动物造型园艺公园。反正我得去普罗维登斯看望一位生病的朋友，所以我觉得我们在那里的时候去看看这座动物造型园艺公园也挺酷。”他打开电脑，让她看那个动物造型园艺公园的网页。 “好吧，”她认真地说，“我想看那个。”她指出那个网页上说这个公园在朴茨茅斯，而非普罗维登斯。 “朴茨茅斯和普罗维登斯靠得很近，”AJ说，“罗得岛是我国最小的州。” 然而，结果证明朴茨茅斯跟普罗维登斯并不是那么近。尽管有大巴，最方便的还是开车过去，而AJ没有驾驶执照。他打电话给兰比亚斯，要他跟他们一起去。 “小孩子们真的很喜欢园艺造型动物，嗯？”兰比亚斯问。 “她迷得要命。”AJ说。 “小孩子会喜欢那个，挺古怪的，我只能这么说。” “她是个古怪的小孩。” “可这大冬天的，真的是去公园的最佳时间吗？” “现在几乎是春天了。另外，现在玛雅真的很喜欢园艺造型动物。谁知道等到夏天来后，她还喜不喜欢了？” “小孩子变化快，这倒是真的。”兰比亚斯说。 “听着，你不是非得去。” “哦，我会去的。谁不想看一头巨大的绿色大象？但问题是，有时候别人跟你说你踏上一种旅程，结果却成了另外一种旅程。你懂我的意思吗？我只是想知道我要踏上的是什么样的旅程。我们是要去看园艺造型动物呢，还是要去看别的什么？比如说也许去看你的那位女性朋友？” AJ吸了口气，“我是想我或许可以顺路去看看阿米莉娅，是的。” 第二天，AJ给阿米莉娅发短信：“忘了说，下个周末我和玛雅要去罗得岛。你不用把样书寄来了，我可以去拿。” 阿米莉娅：“样书不在这里。已经让人从纽约寄出了。” 计划太不周全了，AJ暗道。 几分钟后，阿米莉娅又发了条短信：“不过你们来罗得岛做什么？” AJ：“去朴茨茅斯的动物造型园艺公园。玛雅很喜欢园艺造型动物！”（夸张地用上感叹号，他也只感到一点点不好意思。） 阿米莉娅：“不知道有这么一座公园。真希望我能跟你们一起去，但我只能勉强走动。” AJ等了两分钟，然后又发短信：“你需要有人去看你吗？也许我们可以顺路过去看看。” She didn't answer right away. AJ把她的沉默理解为去看望她的人够多的了。 第二天，阿米莉娅的确回了短信：“当然，我很乐意。别吃东西，我会给你和玛雅做饭吃。” “你差不多能看得到，要是你踮起脚尖隔着墙头往里看的话，”AJ说，“在远处那儿。”他们那天早上七点钟离开艾丽丝岛，搭渡轮到海恩尼斯，然后开车两个小时到了朴茨茅斯，却发现格林动物造型园艺公园从十一月到五月不开放。 AJ发现自己无法跟女儿或者兰比亚斯有任何视线接触。气温只有零下一二摄氏度，但是因为惭愧，他感到通体发热。 玛雅踮脚站着，但那不管用，她又试着跳起来。“我什么都看不到。”她说。 “来，我把你弄得更高一点。”兰比亚斯说，把玛雅举到了自己的肩膀上。 “也许，我能看到点什么了，”玛雅犹豫不决地说，“不，我还是什么都看不到。全都盖着呢。”她的下嘴唇开始颤抖。她眼神痛苦地看着AJ。他感觉自己再也受不了了。 突然，她朝AJ露出灿烂的笑容。“可是你知道吗，爸爸？我可以想象毯子下面的大象是什么样。还有老虎！还有独角兽！”她朝父亲点点头，似乎是说，大冬天的你带我来这里，显然就是为了训练想象力。 “很好，玛雅。”他觉得自己是世界上最糟糕的父亲，但玛雅对他的信心似乎恢复了。 “看，兰比亚斯！那头独角兽在颤抖，它披着毛毯挺高兴的。你能看到吗，兰比亚斯？” AJ走到保安亭那边，保安送上一副同情的表情。“一天到晚都有这种事。”她说。 “那么你不认为我给我的女儿留下了终身的伤痕？”AJ问道。 “当然，”保安说，“你很可能已经留下了，但我想不是因为你今天所做的任何事。没有哪个孩子会因为没看到园艺造型动物而变坏。” “即使她爸爸真正的目的，是为了去见普罗维登斯的一个性感女孩？” 那位保安似乎没听到那句话。“我的建议是，你们可以去参观那座维多利亚时代的老宅子。孩子们喜欢那些。” “他们会喜欢吗？” “有些喜欢。当然啦。为什么不呢？也许你的孩子就会喜欢。” 在那座豪宅里，玛雅想起了《天使雕像》，兰比亚斯没有看过那本书。 “哦，你一定要看，兰比亚斯，”玛雅说，“你会爱上它的。里面有个女孩还有她的弟弟，他们离家出走了……” “离家出走不是件可以一笑置之的事。”兰比亚斯皱起眉头，“作为警察，我可告诉你在街头的小孩不会学好。” 玛雅接着说：“他们去了纽约的一家大博物馆，藏在那里。那……” “那是犯法的，就是这样，”兰比亚斯说，“那绝对是非法闯入。很可能还是打破什么东西闯进去的。” “兰比亚斯，”玛雅说，“你没有抓住重点。” 在豪宅里吃过一顿不菲的午餐后，他们开车前往普罗维登斯，登记入住宾馆。 “你去看阿米莉娅吧，”兰比亚斯对AJ说，“我在考虑和孩子去市里的儿童博物馆。我想让她看看藏身一家博物馆里不可行的诸多原因。至少在'九一一'之后的世界是这样。” “你不必那么做。”AJ本计划带着玛雅一起去，好让去看望阿米莉娅这件事显得没那么刻意。（是的，他就是这么不争气，还想用自己的宝贝女儿打掩护。） “别满脸愧疚的，”兰比亚斯说，“教父就是干这个的。后援。” 刚好快五点时，AJ到了阿米莉娅的家。他给她带了个小岛书店的手提袋，里面装的是查琳·哈里斯的长篇小说、一瓶上好的马尔贝克红葡萄酒和一束向日葵。按了门铃后，他又认为带花太招摇了，就把花放在前廊秋千垫子的下面。 她来应门时，膝盖架在那种轮滑车上。她打的石膏是粉红色的，上面的签名有在学校里最受欢迎学生的纪念册上的签名那么多。她穿着一条海军蓝超短连衣裙，脖子上还时髦地围了块有图案的红色围巾。她看上去就像是位空中小姐。 “玛雅呢？”阿米莉娅问。 “我的朋友兰比亚斯带她去普罗维登斯儿童博物馆了。” 阿米莉娅歪着脑袋。“这不是约会，对吧？” AJ试图解释那个动物造型园艺公园不开放的事。这故事听上去让人难以信服——讲到一半，他差点要扔下手提袋转身逃跑。 “我在逗你玩呢，”她说，“进来吧。” 阿米莉娅的家里虽然乱，但是干净。她有一张紫色天鹅绒沙发、一架小型三角钢琴、一张能坐十二个人的餐桌、很多她朋友和家人的相框、长势不一的室内盆栽、一只名叫“忧郁坑”的独眼虎斑猫，当然还有无处不在的书。她家里发散着她在做什么饭的气味，后来发现她做的是意大利千层面和大蒜面包。他脱了皮靴，免得把泥巴带进她家。“家如其人。”他说。 “凌乱，不协调。”她说。 “兼容并蓄，富于魅力。”他清清喉咙，尽量不要说得听起来俗不可耐。 等他们吃过晚饭，开了第二瓶葡萄酒时，AJ才终于鼓起勇气问她跟布雷特·布鲁尔怎么了。 阿米莉娅微微一笑。“如果我跟你说实话，我不想让你产生误解。” “我不会的，我保证。” 她喝完杯里的最后一点酒。“去年秋天，当时我们还一天到晚联系……听着，我不想让你以为我跟他分手是因为你，因为不是。我跟他分手，是因为跟你的谈话，让我想起跟一个人心意相通、分享激情有多么重要。我这话很可能听起来傻傻的。” “不会。”AJ说。 她眯起她漂亮的褐色眼睛。“我们第一次见面的时候，你对我很差劲。到现在我都还没有原谅你，你要知道。” “我希望你能忘了那桩事儿。” “我没有。我记性很好，AJ。” “我是挺糟糕的，”AJ说，“为自己辩解一下吧，我当时正在经历一段艰难时期。”他从桌子对面探身，拨开她脸上的一绺金色卷发，“我第一次看到你时，觉得你就像是一团蒲公英。” 她难为情地拍拍自己的头发。“我的头发很烦人。” “那是我最喜欢的花。” “我觉得那实际上是种野草。”她说。 “你真的能让人印象深刻，你知道的。” “上学时他们叫我'大鸟'。” "Feel sorry." “还有更糟的外号呢，”她说，“我跟我妈妈讲了你的事。她说你听着不像是个好男朋友的料，AJ。” “我知道。对此我很难过，因为我真的非常喜欢你。” 阿米莉娅叹了口气，起身准备清理桌子。 AJ站了起来。“不，别动。让我来吧，你应该坐着。”他把盘子摞起来端到洗碗机旁边。 “你想看看那是本什么书吗？”她说。 “什么书？”AJ一边问，一边把盛烤宽面条的盘子放进水里。 “我办公室里的那本，你问起过的。你来不就是要看那个的吗？”她站了起来，没用滚动的设备，而是用拐杖，“对了，穿过我的卧室就是办公室。” AJ nodded.他快步走过卧室，以免显得不把自己当外人。他就要走到办公室的门口时，阿米莉娅坐到床上说：“等一下，我明天再给你看那本书吧。”她拍拍床上她旁边的地方，“我的脚踝受了伤，所以如果我的引诱不像通常可能的那样巧妙，请原谅。” AJ退回来，走过房间往阿米莉娅的床边去时，想尽量表现得酷一点，但他从来都酷不起来。 阿米莉娅睡着后，AJ轻手轻脚地进了办公室。 那本书靠在台灯上，跟他们那天通过电脑交谈时一模一样。即使拿到眼前，那本书的封面还是褪色得看不出是什么书。他打开扉页：弗兰纳里·奥康纳的短篇小说集《好人难寻》。 “亲爱的艾米，”那本书上有这样的题词，“妈妈说这是你最喜欢的作家。我希望你不介意我读了同名的那篇。我感觉有点黑暗，可是我的确喜欢。祝你毕业日快乐！我为你感到很自豪。永远爱你的，爸爸。” AJ合上那本书，把它靠着台灯放回去。 他写了张纸条：“亲爱的阿米莉娅，如果你要一直等到奈特利的秋季书目出