"Did you read them? The books?"
"Those two, yeah." Almost all of them.
"Which did you like better?"
"The Handmaid's Tale." It didn't offer insight into Deidre's head, exactly, but it did explain a few things. I'm still not sure I understand.
"Yeah, it's a perfect book."
"I likedThe Bell Jartoo," I say.
"Liked it, really? It's sorta heavy."
"You didn't?"
"I can't decide."
"It was heavy, yeah," I say. "But it helped me understand some shit."
She doesn't ask for extra information.
I don't offer it. "This was my sister's place."
"Not anymore?"
"No." How do I explain this without saying it? "She helped me buy it. Well, her and my parents." She left the place to me. And her life insurance covered the mortgage. That was a requirement of the bank—a policy to pay off the loan, in case of the worst. There was a waiting period for suicide, but she was well past it.
"Nice deal."
"I can't complain."
"Does it come with strings?"
"They say it doesn't, but…"
"You still feel like if you stopped going to Sunday night dinners, they'd stop paying your tuition? Sorry. That's me. And I'd never stop. It's just…"
"Unthinkable."
"Yeah. I have a kid sister," she says. "Julie. I can't imagine not being there for her."
"I bet you're a good sister."
"I try." She looks to the shelf. "Is that her favorite book? Your sister?"
I don't know. "She loved all of them."
"Even the graphic novels?"
"What do you have against graphic novels?"
She laughs. "I don't mean it that way. I just don't see a lot of people who read 'literature' also reading graphic novels. I never really got into them, but I tried. I read all the words too fast. I forget to see the pictures."
"Maybe you need to slow down."
"Probably."
"Borrow one," I say.