Unlucky In Love (2 page)

Still trying to loosen the tension in my
head, I pinched the skin above my eyebrow. “Yeah, but how am I
going to make money from reading?”

“You can blog about what you read. Write
reviews and stuff.”

“Angela, you’re a lot younger than I am. You
understand all of that computer stuff. I wouldn’t know how to do
that.”

“Jenny says it’s easy. In fact, she’s been
wanting to train me. But with the baby, not to mention being
pregnant again, I just don’t have the time or energy. I’m sure
she’d come over and help you set it up, though, especially if you
tell her you’ll link back to her site.”

I leaned back in my chair. It was worth a
look. I didn’t like the idea of starting a full-time job when Eric
was accustomed to me taking him to school and all of his
extra-curricular activities every day. Since I’d been unable to do
much other than go to school and babysit Angela when I was a
teenager, I’d wanted Eric to enjoy his high school years.

“Okay … I’ll look into it. Anything is
better than nothing at this point, I guess. Besides, it’ll give me
something to do so I don’t spend every minute of my day scheming
how to make Dick’s life a living hell.”

Angela laughed. “Well, it’s been three hours
and the police haven’t shown up. Maybe he’s decided not to press
charges, hoping he’ll get in your good graces.”

I inhaled a deep breath, hoping Angela was
right about the cops, but then said, “Dick Embers couldn’t earn his
way back into my good graces if he were the Pope himself.”

The following week after I dropped Eric off
at school, I headed to the library.

I hadn’t been to the library in years, but I
needed to commence with the scrimping and scraping immediately.

When I’d first learned to drive, my father
told me that most people died because they failed to notice that
they were in an emergency situation until it was too late. He’d
even
tied
a pocket knife that had a seatbelt
cutter and an emergency glass breaker to my gear shifter.

I wasn’t in an emergency situation yet, but
it was time to batten down the hatches. Twenty-dollars-a-pop books
were definitely not in my budget, but I needed to read up on
blogging. Hopefully, the downtown library had current data.

After finding the correct station in the
three-story library, I handed the librarian the application I’d
printed off, along with my driver’s license and a couple of utility
bills as proof of my address. “I’d like to apply for a library
card, please.”

The woman looked up and smiled. I glanced at
her nametag that read:
Volunteer
and then
Makeda
underneath.

I watched as her fingers flew across the
keyboard. I’d taken typing in high school, but even though I
remembered where all the keys were located, I was a
hunt-and-pecker. Maybe I needed to find a typing class
too
since I was planning to type on the computer for a
living. Speed typing would definitely be a plus.

Within a few seconds, the woman presented me
with a temporary library card, advising me that a permanent one
would be mailed to my home address in a few days.

I tucked the card into the side pocket of my
purse. “Thank you, Makeda. I wonder … would you point me in the
direction of anything you have on blogging?”

Obviously happy with her volunteer job,
Makeda smiled again. “The reference section is on the third floor.
And,” she hunted through papers on her desk, “if you’re interested,
we offer a ‘Blogging for Business’ class on Mondays at four
o’clock.”

Sometimes fate had a way of letting you
know you were on the right path
, I thought.

“You’re kidding me! That’d be great. Thank
you, Makeda.” And it was. I’d always been better at listening to
lectures and taking notes than I was with self-study. Maybe Angela
would accompany me,
too,
so we could learn
together.

Still suffering from lack of sleep and a
perpetual feeling of dehydration after my month-long crying jag, I
eyed the coffee shop on the first level but then remembered my
budget. For years, I’d thought nothing of running into Starbucks
after dropping off Eric daily and grabbing a five-dollar latte. But
when I’d written out my budget, I realized that was a
hundred-dollar-a-month expense that I could no longer afford.

Since I could afford to lose a few pounds,
though, I opted to ascend the open set of stairs instead of taking
the elevator to the third floor. As I climbed, I
stared
through the three-story glass wall at the
intercoastal waterway and the Clearwater Memorial Causeway. The
library in downtown Clearwater was beautiful, and I quickly
wondered why I’d never come inside before today.

When I reached the top level, I strolled
across the open floor, passing rows and rows of magazines, another
item I’d crossed off my grocery budget. Amazing how I’d thought
nothing of a few dollars here and there, but now I realized how one
or two extra purchases a day added up to hundreds of dollars a
month.

I took in the different faces of the people
who sat at tables,
chairs,
and squatted in
front of shelves. Nearly every age, sex, ethnicity and, based on
the different styles of clothing, social and economic statuses were
represented as well. Even a few patrons who appeared to be
homeless, based on their attire, were busy reading.

For just a second, I closed my eyes and
inhaled, thinking of the library I used to visit as a child. This
new building didn’t have the same aromatic scent, but my mind still
latched onto the faint scent of books, searching for that sweet
rotting smell of old books and the gardenia scent that had emanated
from the elderly librarian who’d introduced me to the
Phantom
Toll Booth
and stories by Judy Blume.

The scent swept me back to my first love:
reading. It felt like coming home. As if the written word could
seep out of the books in thin lines like long tendrils of smoke,
and then intertwine with my veins, making their way through every
inch of my body, enveloping every fiber of my being.

I sighed. Angela was right. I loved to read.
And just maybe … books could be my salvation once again.

Realizing I had to get busy, I glanced at my
phone for the time. Before I knew it, I’d have to get Eric.

Instead of a card catalog, I was instructed
to search in the old desktop computer for the books I wanted. I
jotted down several titles, including
Mom Blogging for
Dummies
. Then I realized I should look at the current
bestselling fiction books. I had read plenty of books in my
lifetime, but I hadn’t read a book with the intention of reviewing
it. And truthfully, I hadn’t read very many books lately. I’d been
too busy running Eric from school to drama to football practice.
And when there wasn’t a school activity, I’d drive him to the
movies or a friend’s house.

In the last couple of years, I really hadn’t
found the time to read more than a handful of books, usually the
most popular books that had been made into movies, and I was sure
those books had a plethora of reviews.

As I entered the aisle for mystery fiction,
I skidded to a stop. A man stood in front of the shelves where I’d
been heading. Uneasy for no reason that I could comprehend, I held
back, busying myself with the last names beginning with
S
,
even though I’d been heading for the
Ps
. Although I
preferred to read something with romance, I figured I’d better add
some books that didn’t center around romance to my list so that my
site offered readers reviews on different genres.

I started to head to the romance
section,
but peeked out of the corner of my eye at the
man. Not that I had any interest in a man, but he wasn’t the type
of man I expected to see in the public library. The last thing I’d
anticipated was to run into a good-looking businessman strolling
the aisles. Not on a weekday afternoon anyway.

Catching my gaze, the man held up the newest
release by James Patterson. “Have you read this?”

I gulped, my right hand immediately reaching
for my left, and I found myself twisting an imaginary ring. My ring
finger was bare. I’d removed the set my husband had given me for
our fifteenth anniversary.

The man’s eyes dropped, and I immediately
stopped fidgeting. “Not yet. Actually, I was looking for it.”

The dark-haired man stepped forward, handing
me the book. “Here you go, then. Maybe you can tell me if it’s
worth reading. I have to get back to work anyway. I’m on my lunch
break.”

“Oh … umm … thanks.” I accepted the
book,
but cocked my head. “How will I tell
you?”

He smiled. “I’m here most days on my lunch
break.”

I about choked. A man who loved to read, who
spent his lunch hours at the library instead of boning
Ms.
Floozy
?

I returned his smile. “Okay … If I see you,
I’ll let you know.”

Mystery man smiled, then trotted off. I was
grateful that he hadn’t asked me for my name or number. I
definitely wasn’t ready for that.
It had
only
been a few weeks since I’d told Dick what he could go do to
himself. And only a two weeks since I’d trashed his truck.

One of the first things the attorney I had
contacted had asked me was had I had any extramarital affairs.

Never
, I’d told him honestly. And I
hadn’t. I hadn’t had a physical — or emotional — affair. I hadn’t
even put hobbies above my husband. For that matter, we didn’t even
have a pet. Dick had been allergic, so even though I wanted Eric to
have a pet, he never could.

I shook my head at what I’d given up in the
last fifteen years.

Other than Eric — and I wouldn’t change the
mistake of getting pregnant at nineteen even if I could — Dick
Embers hadn’t given me anything other than my son, and he’d taken
everything else from me.

***

Angela and I stared at the website we’d
created.
It had
actually been easier than I
expected. Mostly, it had just been a matter of clicking and
dragging boxes for texts or images. I searched for the most recent
books I’d read, which already had thousands of reviews, but … who
knew, maybe someone would be interested in my point of view.

Next I used my affiliate code to add images
via HTML. Just saying the initials — which I had no idea what they
stood for — made me feel important. I jotted down a note to look it
up.

I smiled as I squeezed Angela around the
shoulders. “Thank you, Ang. I can’t believe we did this. Now I just
have to catch up on my reading.”

“Well, I’m sure you won’t make any money for
a while, but you said you had a year. Jenny said it took her about
two months until she really started to see a surge in ‘clicks,’ as
she called it. She gave me a list of social sites that we need to
sign up for that will push readers to the website. She assured me
that it’s really just a matter of finding people who share your
interests.”

I laughed. “Why aren’t you doing this
again?”

Angela patted her belly, which really wasn’t
showing yet, but I knew the morning sickness had been taking its
toll. “You have to ask? You remember what it was like. But I was
thinking, I might be able to knock out a few book reviews too. That
way you’ll have multiple reviewers. Maybe Aunt Heidi will write
some reviews too. She likes to read the medical thrillers, so that
would give you even more ideas to share.”

For the first time in a week … my eyes
watered up. I’d been doing well. I hadn’t broken down and cried,
and it had been even longer since I’d cried when Eric was home.
Even though I hated Dick, I didn’t want my son to hate his father.
Every day after school, Eric had been politer than normal, asking
if I wanted him to stay home instead of going to football practice.
Just the fact that Dick’s infidelity had actually caused my son to
grow up
overnight had
threatened to send me
into full-out crying sessions several times, but I’d been strong …
for Eric … for my sanity.

The tears I couldn’t contain now were
different, though. These were tears of hope.

Angela started upright. “Are you okay? Did I
say something?”

“Yes …” I sputtered. “I mean, yes, I’m okay.
You’ve said and done everything right, Angela. Thank you so much …
It’s just … I’m feeling hopeful. I haven’t felt optimistic in a
while. But it’s more than that. I feel … useful again. As though I
have a purpose in life.”

She squeezed my hand. “Oh, Jana. You’ve
always had a purpose in life. I know Dick cheated on you, but he
loved you … He knows he’s nothing without you, the reason he keeps
trying to get you back. And Eric … he’s a great kid. I mean … how
many fifteen-year-olds even like their parents? And he worships
you.”

I sniffed as I jumped up and threw my arms
around my cousin. “Thank you, Ang. I love you.” I leaned back to
look at her. “How did you get so smart for only being
twenty-five?”

“I had a great role model, Jana. You know
you’re my best friend and cousin, but did you also know that
when I was a child,
I’d wished you were my
mother? Even when you were fifteen, you took better care of me than
my mom did.” Angela
swiped
away a few tears on
her face too. “See … now you have me crying. I love you too.”

I threw my arms around her again, and we
remained that way for a few minutes in a long embrace. It was true
… I’d never had a mother, and Angela had seen very little of hers.
But we’d had each other.

Catching my breath, I stood up and stared at
my baby cousin who was no longer a baby. She was a mother of a
two-year-old with another child on the way. And she had a great
husband. I could only hope that Paul would continue to treat her
well and not break her heart the way my husband had broken
mine.