Page 63 of The Librarians

Saturday is day one of the Texas Book Festival.

Jonathan, who has long been involved with the festival, moderates a panel on queer love stories in the morning and a second one on the Marvel Cinematic Universe early in the afternoon.

Both are well attended, the second especially so.

At the end of the MCU panel, after he shepherds the panelists to the signing tent where they can meet their newly acquired fans, he turns around to find Ryan, with a varsity jacket hooked over one finger, standing only a few feet away.

Jonathan’s heart leaps. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Ryan is wearing his dark-rimmed glasses again, which just might prove to be Jonathan’s greatest weakness. “I came with Conrad. We were at your panel, but he had to go to the airport—he’s taking Perry back home to England. He was sad about missing a panel on romance.”

“Does he read romance?” Men do read genre romance but Jonathan hadn’t figured Conrad for one.

“I don’t know for sure but he was curious about the socioeconomic topics that might come up at such a discussion.”

It looks like the people who bequeathed Conrad their book collections chose the right person.

“Anyway,” says Ryan, smiling, “do you have more stuff that you need to do for the festival?”

“Not today.”

“Cool. Want to take a walk?”

Jonathan’s backpack is still in the green room set aside for authors and moderators, but he answers without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

They head south on Congress Avenue, toward Town Lake—or Lady Bird Lake, as newcomers call it.

The last time they were alone, they were parked a quarter mile from Astrid’s house, tensely waiting to get an okay from her, whether she found any spy devices or not.

And before that—good gracious, on the same night—they’d had the basketball game on TV to act as a buffer.

This time, it’s Ryan who keeps up a running commentary on the hotels, bars, and eateries along the way, Ryan who seems to have visited every single one of the establishments.

Jonathan is openly astonished.

“I used to live downtown, I didn’t cook, and I went out a lot.” Ryan shrugs. “It would be odd if I didn’t know the places around my own neighborhood.”

Jonathan shakes his head. “They don’t pay librarians enough for me to sample all the places around my neighborhood.”

“So you cook?”

Jonathan nods.

“And you read?”

Jonathan nods again, intensely aware that Ryan is looking at him.

“And you’re handy around the house?”

“I wouldn’t charge for my services but I can take care of the normal stuff.”

“Why haven’t you settled down yet?”

Jonathan’s heart zips around his rib cage, like a pinball hitting all the reflectors on the board. Why is Ryan so interested all of a sudden? “I’ve tried. Dated a couple of techies. They were fine. Just didn’t work out.”

They were coming up on Congress Bridge, famed for its bats, more than a million strong.

But despite multiple attempts over multiple decades, Jonathan and his parents never managed to catch a good look at the largest urban bat colony in the world.

Every time they took the trouble to come all the way downtown at sunset, the listed time for the bats to begin their nocturnal hunt, the bats emerged only when it was fully dark.

Instead of a vaguely apocalyptical funnel of winged mammals upon a still bright sky, they witnessed the merest wisps of shadows against the deepening night.

Ryan doesn’t make any comments on Jonathan’s lack of romantic success but guides Jonathan off the road to the hike-and-bike path that rings Town Lake.

The trees are turning colors, gold and red against determined evergreens. The sun, squatting toward the horizon, casts long, leafy shadows.

“You haven’t made much of an effort to settle down either, have you?” Jonathan ventures to ask.

They are walking past an upscale hotel, with terraces full of guests enjoying an afternoon beverage. Ryan hops onto a huge round lounger that’s been placed near the trail and pats the seat, inviting Jonathan to join him.

The steel-framed lounger can accommodate three, possibly four, relatively slender individuals.

Jonathan gets on, feeling tentative. Feeling too close to Ryan, though there’s still a good eighteen inches between them.

Ryan leans back against a pile of throw pillows, but Jonathan sits cross-legged—even the half-reclined position feels too intimate.

He’s been trying to get closer to Ryan for what feels like a geological era, yet here he is, jumpy and scared at the first hint of greater proximity.

Ryan glances at him. “To answer your question, I came out to my mom when I was fifteen. I told her that I liked boys the way most boys liked girls. She didn’t cry or get angry, she was just flabbergasted.

The next day, she asked me very seriously, and in exactly so many words, whether I’d have many liaisons but never settle down. ”

He shrugs. “That was what? Twenty-three years ago? Brokeback Mountain hadn’t even come out yet. I was a kid in the suburbs. I knew what I was, but I had no idea what kind of life I’d have—or be allowed to have.

“Most likely I’d have had ‘many liaisons’ even if my mom had never said anything. But she did and I’ve always felt somewhat ashamed about those ‘liaisons.’ Once in a while I turn into Mr. Ready-to-settle-down.”

“I see,” says Jonathan.

So whatever impetus Ryan feels toward monogamy—or even serial monogamy—is predicated on placating the ghost of maternal disappointment.

Ryan shrugs into his varsity jacket—it’s chillier in the shade. “There’s something else I want to tell you.”

Jonathan wishes he had a pair of AirPods on full blast. What Ryan just told him doesn’t make him feel all that great. In fact, there’s a heavy stone where his stomach used to be.

He braces himself. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember your apology?”

Jonathan feels broadsided. The apology that he’s spent half of his life crafting…“Please don’t think I wasn’t sincere because I happened to be serving as Hazel’s lookout—”

“Of course not.” Ryan, who flopped down on the throw pillows after putting on his jacket, sits up straight again. “I believe in your sincerity. You’re not a flippant person, like I can be.”

Jonathan doesn’t consider Ryan flippant. It’s more that Ryan excels at appearing cool and carefree, leaving Jonathan unsure as to what he truly thinks and feels.

The Ryan sitting across from him, however, looks rueful, even hesitant. “Do you recall that after you apologized, I said I didn’t remember being mistreated, that I had a good time at that pool party?”

Jonathan nods tightly. Different individuals recalling common experiences differently is to be expected, but their diametrically opposite recollections unsettle him.

“Do you remember Davoud Asadi?”

Jonathan heard that name on the night of the reunion.

What was the context again? Maryam also mentioned him when Jonathan asked her on Zoom what she might know about Detective Hagerty’s investigation.

Davoud Asadi, Maryam’s second cousin, was in their class.

Jonathan has a vague memory of a shortish kid with chubby cheeks and a thick neck—and nothing more.

“He and I were”—Ryan’s fingertips scratch against the weatherproof material of the large round cushion under them—“we were a thing half of junior year and all of senior year.”

Jonathan more or less expected that, but it still fazes him. “Okay…”

Ryan’s gaze is on his own hand. “Davoud thought we were in a relationship. I objected strongly to the idea because he had cleidocranial dysplasia.”

“What?”

“Genetic condition—basically he had no teeth.” Ryan still doesn’t look up. “He’d made peace with it, but I was mortified. I never even let him say hi to me at school.”

Jonathan tries hard to recall Davoud’s features, so that he doesn’t have to think about what Ryan is saying. “I…don’t remember anything about his teeth.”

“He wore dentures. Sometimes he took them out when we were together. I was probably the only man alive who wished the person blowing him had more teeth.”

Jonathan coughs.

Ryan lifts his head—and stares at a tall hotel downstream. “It might have been funny if I wasn’t beside myself. I didn’t mind being gay but I was convinced I’d die if anyone ever found out I was doing it with Davoud Asadi.

“I couldn’t wait to graduate and break up with him.

And when I did, I made sure not to mention his teeth, but he was devastated all the same—he thought he’d meant something to me.

And maybe he did. Because I’ve never been able to forget the pain I caused him.

And I felt rotten, far more horrible than any real or imagined humiliation at his naked gums.”

Ryan grips one hand with the other, the beautifully trimmed nail of his right thumb digging into the edge of his other palm.

Hey, Davoud Asadi isn’t coming. So you can be straight now.

Jonathan at last remembers what Ryan said to Conrad on the night of the reunion. “You took Conrad to the reunion because you were afraid Davoud might be there?”

“Very mature, right?” Ryan looks at Jonathan, but only for an instant.

“He has an Instagram. For years it was vacation pics plus an occasional quote. Then he locked down with someone just as the pandemic began. They make a good-looking couple. The other guy is clearly smitten—as he should be. Davoud is a good person. He deserves someone who loves him.”

Jonathan looks down at his own hands. Is Ryan trying to tell him that he only got together with Jonathan because he was trying to forget what he did to Davoud?

“Where was I?” Ryan sounds puzzled. “Right. The pool party. The pool party was a week after I broke up with Davoud. That evening Maryam told me that you and she never went beyond first base and I thought, what the hell, let me give it a try. I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. I, who was a complete shit to Davoud, got together with the perfect blond, blue-eyed all-American boy of my dreams.”