You Love Me
Random House Publishing Group
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You Love Me · See that edition →
1I think you’re the one I spoke to on the phone, the librarian with a voice so soft that I went out and bought myself a cashmere sweater. Warm. Safe. You called me three days ago to confirm my new job at the Bainbridge Public Library. The call was meant to be short. Perfunctory. You: Mary Kay DiMarco, branch manager. Me: Joe Goldberg, volunteer. But there was chemistry. We had a couple laughs. That lilt in your voice got under my skin and I wanted to google you, but I didn’t. Women can tell when a guy knows too much and I wanted to come in cool. I’m early and you’re hot—if that’s you, is that you?—and you’re busy with a male patron—I smell mothballs and gin—and you’re foxy but subdued, showing off your legs as you hide them in opaque black tights, as concealing as RIP Beck’s curtain-less windows were revealing. You raise your voice—you want the old man to try out some Haruki Murakami—and I’m sure of it now. You’re the one from the phone but holy shit, Mary Kay.Are you the one...
