An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [14]
For information, visit: http://king.nl.ca/HR/library
I applied and waited. The longer I waited, the more I dreaded the possibility that I’d spend the rest of my life in Norway. When they finally offered me the position, I dreaded the thought of being so far away from her. The day before I left, I stopped by Elsa’s new flat. I should have known Brutus would be there. It was the first time I’d seen her that close. I counted the number of piercings and stopped after five. Her forehead was riddled with pockmarks. Her hair stood hard, like bristles on a scrub brush. Elsa had left me for an inferior being. What did that make me?
She was in the bathroom when I arrived. I sat opposite Brutus in the living room. There was no music or radio, no sound besides our breathing. I flipped through a Bodybuilding for Women magazine. Positive Steroid Use and Testosterone Supplements. I heard the click of the bathroom door behind me. Elsa leaned over the back of my chair to give me a peck on the cheek then sat with Brutus on the couch. The two of them cuddled together and held hands. Brutus tilted her head to kiss Elsa’s ear.
The conversation was about “we” except “we” didn’t include me. “We’re going on holiday to Greece,” she said. “It was a surprise gift from Sophie for my birthday.”
Up until then, Elsa had done all the talking.
“When I invited you, you claimed it was too Greek,” I said. “But when Brutus invites you it’s a special voyage. What’s changed?”
“Nothing has changed. I’ve always been Sophie, not Brutus.”
“Elsa, could we talk alone without her interrupting?”
“Say what you want. There are no secrets between Sophie and me. We–”
“Please, Elsa. Ask her to go. I’m leaving tomorrow for Canada. I may never return. It’s a permanent position.” I stood up then reached forward to take Elsa’s hand. “I want to talk to Elsa alone,” I said to Brutus.
Brutus shoved her fist against my chest. That’s when I noticed the ELSA tattoo, one letter per knuckle. I stumbled over the side table and nearly fell.
“Why do you always insist?” Elsa said. “Why can’t you accept that I’m with Sophie?”
I couldn’t answer those questions then or now. I sent her one last email hoping she’d come to the airport to say goodbye:
Flight 205 to London @ 22:30. I’ll wait at the Air
Norway counter. Do **NOT** tell Brutus. Please!
I checked my mail at an Internet station before I boarded the plane. I was relieved to find a message I thought came from Elsa:
Date: Wed. August 30 1999 21:42
To: carlbrunet@hotmail.com
From:elsa60@hotmail.com
Elsa has no feeling for you except pity. LEAVE HER
ALONE!
Sophie
After that night, the only response I received from my emails to Elsa was Message blocked for this recipient. If I’d been nice to Brutus, she might have allowed Elsa to come see me at the airport, but being nice to her wasn’t something I could pretend under any circumstances. And so I headed off to the end of the world, overwhelmed with longing for my wife and loathing for her lover. Someone at the library arranged temporary accommodation for me in a basement flat in St. John’s. The owners, Mercedes and her husband Cyril, were a couple in their late fifties, volunteers with the newcomers’ society. They met me at the airport. Welcome, Carl Brunet, their sign read.
Cyril spoke first, very quickly. “How ya gettin’ on?”
“Sorry?” I responded.
“How are you?” he said.
Later, when we knew each other better, Cyril confessed he was concerned. “I don’t know who knit you, but you were some slow catching on that night at the airport.”
At the time, I didn’t expect to be around them for long. “Thanks for the flat,” I said. “My wife will be joining me soon. We’ll be needing a larger place then.”
CHAPTER TEN
a fishy resolution
IMOVED TO NEWFOUNDLAND THINKING IT would distract me until Elsa and I could work things out. In the meantime, I planned to plunge myself into implementing my vision for the library of the future – omniscient, ubiquitous and with all the knowledge of the world at our fingertips. The plunge was more like a duck-n-cover.