What If Just...

12 Vivian

We hear the front door open and close.

A minute later Grace receives a message: "Left. Be back late."

"Oh, young life," she says with a smile, looking away from the phone screen. "He should have taken you with him," Grace adds, noticing my confused look. "You should also live your young life, and not bury it by getting stuck with someone else's granny."

Her speech makes me laugh.

"I've always been kind of a granny myself," I admit.

"How old are you, if it's not a secret?" she makes another attempt to find out some information about me.

"I'll be twenty-eight in March," I answer honestly.

"It can't be! I honestly thought you're not older than twenty-two!" Grace exclaims, "Anyway, you're still very young. There are a million opportunities and an unforgettable new experience ahead."

Is that all?

No lectures about marriage and children, no warnings about the dangers and addictions of a careless young life?

If I had always been surrounded by people like Grace, I would not consider myself written off now, feel old and decrepit, too late to enjoy life.

I love this woman.

"May I ask," I utter a question that has been bothering me for a long time, "do you have any books in the house?"

"Unfortunately, I gave most of them to the library. Books need to be read, otherwise there is no point for them to stand and gather dust on the shelves as unnecessary. But there might be a few copies left in my husband's former study. You can go there and see what suits you," Grace kindly suggests, and I nod my head enthusiastically.

She laughs at my impatience.

"Who would have known that life in your eyes would light up again just at the mention of books!"

After a short instruction on how to get to the study, Grace wishes me good night and retires to her room.

My hands are literally itching from the thought that the world of once forbidden books will soon be opened to me.

I almost run down the corridor to the sacred room.

Inside there are huge cabinets with shelves on two walls, but only one niche is filled.

It even hurts to look at this emptiness.

How I would like to see these shelves in all their glory of the old days!

With my heart jumping out of my chest, I approach the books.

There are several names here that I saw in my grandmother's attic.

There are at most seven fiction books, everything else is related to the housekeeping, farming, gardening and cooking.

I'm not upset by such turn of events - there is literally nothing that can cloud the happiness and anticipation I'm experiencing.

Seven is at least more than nothing or than one book that I had.

I carefully stack the books and slowly move to the exit.

The most difficult thing is to climb the stairs without seeing where to step.

Now I don't think about the fact that there is no TV, phone or laptop in my room at all - I know what to do for the next few days to entertain myself.

***

That night it comes again.

I can feel it even at my fingertips.