“He never attended college. He’s a telephone repair man. His father died almost fifteen years ago. His mother died just recently, and he has no brothers or sisters. He’s very good-looking,” she added, “and very sweet and sensitive. We’ve been reading a book together.”
“How?”
“We read a chapter or two and then talk about it.”
“What book?”
“Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov. Mrs. Kasofsky did me a special favor and ordered it for the library, but I’m the only one she’s given it to, and maybe I will be the only one. She likes us to read.”
“She’s a librarian. Of course she likes us to read. How did you come to choose it?”
“He told me about the book, and I got it,” she said, opening her desk drawer to show it to me. “He’s very good at analyzing the characters.”
“How can you fall in love with someone from reading a book together?”
“There’s more. We share a lot of likes and dislikes. We’re going to meet soon. If you tell Mother about any of this, I swear I’ll never talk to you again for the rest of your life.”
“I won’t tell, but I’m not sure you should meet a man that old whom you’ve only met on the Internet, Haylee, and especially one so much older.”
“Don’t start mothering me, Kaylee. I’m an adult, far more adult than anyone else in our class—in our school, for that matter. It’s not your chronological age that matters; it’s your mental and emotional age. There’s a character in Pnin who makes that clear.”
“So that’s why he wants you to read it? He wants you to think like the character?”
“It’s interesting. It’s interesting to talk to someone mature.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Long enough to know him well.”
“But what if he’s lying about things?”
“I can tell by the way he answers questions about himself. He’s told me about his weaknesses as well as his strengths, told me things that frighten him, that annoy him, told me things he didn’t like about his parents, too. When someone is that open, you can trust him.”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said.
“Well, I do. Just forget about it now. It’s not your business. This is something involving just me for a change.”
“I can’t help worrying about it,” I said.
“Worry all you want. Just keep your mouth shut. Understood?”
I nodded.
“Thank you,” she said. “When I’m ready, when we’re ready, I’ll introduce you to him.”
“But you haven’t even met him yet yourself.”
“That’s why I said ‘when I’m ready.’ This means a lot to me, Kaylee.”
“Okay, okay.”
“I’ll let you see a picture of him,” she said, and turned to her computer.
I approached slowly when she brought the picture up. “He looks older than mid-twenties,” I said.
“It’s the lighting. He had someone take it with a cell-phone camera. You have to admit he’s very good-looking and has a sensitive face, don’t you?” She turned to look at me. “Don’t you?” she demanded.
I didn’t like his eyes. They were beady, and who nowadays parted his hair in the middle? “Yes,” I said.