Page 125 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

Everyone laughed.

She dug in with all she had, eventually finding a way to separate the pages and tear apart the spine.

Two halves in her hands, she tossed the last half over her shoulder and let it drop dramatically. “That part, that’s what we don’t need. No one ever needs to achieve megawatt-dom. All we have to do is our best, right? And leaving burn marks? What was I thinking?”

Bianca turned to find Moira shrinking, and she recalled the tattoo on her arm. “I mean, it’s a fine sentiment.” No, she wasn’t going to back off. “Look, Moira, and all of you, I’m sorry, but I feel like I misled everyone, and I can’t hold it back another moment.”

To Moira directly, she said, “I’ll pay for it to be removed if you want. I know this is horrible to say, especially since you were so kind to have me, but I messed up with this book, and I don’t want anyone to leave burn marks. I want people to own who they are at any given moment and to love their entire selves.”

“I don’t think you messed up,” Moira finally said. “I mean, okay, point made. No one needs to live to the extremes, but your book changed my life. And I’m proud of the tattoo. I still love the idea of leaving burn marks. I’m not here to float through life. I’m here to disrupt. To be irreverent. To break free. Maybe what the book means to you has changed, but once you put a book out into the world, once anyone puts art into the world, it becomes the possession of the reader or the one experiencing it. You didn’t mislead me. You led me to me. The reason we’re all here is this book actually. The reason that I’m becoming stronger and finding a reason to keep going, despite my terrible past, is because of you. So no, you can’t take away this book, and you can’t even tell me what’s right and wrong in it.”

Bianca had no words.

Moira glanced at Harold. “I even tried to kiss a man yesterday, which was the first time since my divorce. It didn’t work out but that’s okay. I tried, and that’s what living is. That is what leaving burn marks is. Taking chances. Seizing every moment.”

“Fair enough,” Bianca said. “My God, sister, you’re the one that needs to write a book.”

A clap, then another, then the whole room.

Moira sat back and crossed her arms.

“May I say something?” It was Sandy.

The rest of the room quieted and let her speak.

Holding her phone out, she said to Bianca, “I want to read some of the reviews to you. Sure, I see a few bad ones, but art is subjective, isn’t it? I don’t like anything that Moira reads, but does that make her wrong? Well, okay, in that case, I’m righter than her, but that’s beside the point.”

Sandy held her hand high to shush the laughter. “Let me read some of these.”

Bianca braced herself.

“This book saved my life.” Sandy removed her glasses and looked at Bianca. “You could stop right there, couldn’t you? I have never saved anyone’s life. How many in this room have? You’ve saved a life, Bianca. That’s on top of giving your all to make a book and then putting yourself out there.”

Sandy went back for more. “Another five-star. I’m leaving my husband because of this book. I won’t let him walk over me anymore. There you go. I haven’t read your book, but if it would have given me the courage to walk out on my first husband sooner, then what you did is enough. So tear your book in half, beat yourself up. Whatever you need to do. But then get back to writing because the world needs authors. Especially authors like you who care so much about what they’re doing. And I can see that.”

Bianca felt eyes on her again; her hands trembled. “You’re going to make me cry; thank you.” Then she did it, darn tears gushing out.

Moira put a hand on her. “Let it out, girl.”

Someone in the audience whispered, “Best. Book club. Ever.”

The whole room, Bianca included, exploded with teary-eyed laughter.

Chapter 29

Awakening 101

Harold sat in the last row, swallowed up by the crowd standing behind him. His face was still red from being called out by Moira, but now he was considering jumping into the fray of discussion.

What he wanted to say was that yeah, Bianca’s book had perhaps misled him. Or maybe he’d misled himself. He’d gone from Harold Meh to Aroldo Megawatt, and now here he was back to the beginning. A fucking boomerang. What she’d said about the middle? It made sense. The whole thing made sense, and hearing her talk, hearing Bianca be so honest with herself and with others resonated in a profound way.

He wanted to be a part of her awakening, and before he knew it, his hand went up and Bianca pointed in his direction.

“May I chime in, as someone who enjoyed your book? I’m sort of where you are. I tried to become someone I wasn’t, and it wasn’t achievable. Or sustainable.” He glanced over at Sandy because he felt her looking at him.

“I’m trying to start over and figure out what’s next,” Harold admitted.

“What is next?” Bianca asked, the tone of a woman who cared deeply. “You’re Harold, right? What’s your story? Can we do a deep dive?”