More pain was something I hadn’t signed up for when I’d succumbed to—okay, welcomed—the revival of my relationship with Robin.
“Eff him,” I said. My spine straightened. That felt good. I swung a fist up and shook it. “ Eff him.” That felt better. I was pleasurably shocked at myself.
“Eff who?” asked my boss.
“Robin,” I said after I’d jumped maybe a mile. “He’s out there flirting with Janie. I just don’t need that today. Actually, I don’t need that any day. I need security . I need devotion .” I couldn’t believe I was saying this to my boss. I had known Sam forever, and I won’t say we hadn’t experienced some mind-to-mind talks, because we had. But he had never been anywhere close to the top of my list of confidants.
Sam patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Sorry about your sister-in-law,” he said. I came out of my selfish absorption to register Sam’s appearance. He looked awful. He was drawn and pale, and he’d visibly lost weight.
“What’s up with you, Sam?” I asked with well-merited concern. I realized for the first time that Sam’s problems amounted to more than missing his secretary. Sam looked really sick. In a way, I wasn’t surprised.
Sam, who was in the neighborhood of fifty, had to juggle more balls than I could ever keep in the air. The city, the county, the state, the employees, the patrons—all of them had a stake in the library, and all wanted to have their say. The building maintenance, the book budget, hiring and firing . ,. and on the home front, two girls who must be in their early twenties by now, and a wife named Marva, who could do simply anything, which I found almost unforgivable.
“I didn’t sleep well,” Sam said. Maybe if he hadn’t slept well for a month, I might have accepted his appearance, but not after one night. “Marva is stenciling a design around the top of our bedroom walls, which she just finished painting.”
See what I mean?
“So I had to sleep in the guest bedroom, and the bed there leaves a lot to be desired. Plus, even with the bedroom door closed, I could still smell the paint, and it just makes me sick.”
Marva had been married to Sam for thirty years, so I was willing to bet she knew that. And yet she’d painted the bedroom in November, when the windows couldn’t be opened. Big message there.
“I don’t expect we can give each other any advice,” I said, for lack of anything else to say.
“I guess not,” he said. “Good luck to you, and again, I’m sorry about Poppy. She taught with Marva for a while and came over to the house from time to time. I liked her, no matter what anyone said.”
That was typical Sam. Mr. Tactful.
I trailed back out into the library, determined to earn my money. I was supposed to be checking people in and out as they used our computers, and giving them extra direction if this was needed. I’d also be filling out the paperwork for our next book order while I sat at the desk.
That part was fun, the little gush of excitement at all those wonderful books coming into our library, just waiting to be picked up and read. (See, I really am a librarian at heart.) But someone had to deal with questions like how much would be charged for printing out information our patrons had found on the Internet, or how to find out the greatest ocean depth recorded, or the best way to look up whether dromedaries have two humps and camels one (or vice versa).
Robin was still there, still leaning on the desk. See, this is why I believe in gun control; because if I’d had a gun, I wouldn’t have had much control over my actions.
“Roe,” he said, aiming his beautiful crinkly smile at me. It would have meant more—in fact, it would have melted my heart—if I hadn’t seen him grinning at Janie just moments before. “I canceled the rest of my signings and came home last night.”
“Robin,” I said coolly. True librarians stay calm in the face of adversity.
He looked considerably taken
“Eff him,” I said. My spine straightened. That felt good. I swung a fist up and shook it. “ Eff him.” That felt better. I was pleasurably shocked at myself.
“Eff who?” asked my boss.
“Robin,” I said after I’d jumped maybe a mile. “He’s out there flirting with Janie. I just don’t need that today. Actually, I don’t need that any day. I need security . I need devotion .” I couldn’t believe I was saying this to my boss. I had known Sam forever, and I won’t say we hadn’t experienced some mind-to-mind talks, because we had. But he had never been anywhere close to the top of my list of confidants.
Sam patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Sorry about your sister-in-law,” he said. I came out of my selfish absorption to register Sam’s appearance. He looked awful. He was drawn and pale, and he’d visibly lost weight.
“What’s up with you, Sam?” I asked with well-merited concern. I realized for the first time that Sam’s problems amounted to more than missing his secretary. Sam looked really sick. In a way, I wasn’t surprised.
Sam, who was in the neighborhood of fifty, had to juggle more balls than I could ever keep in the air. The city, the county, the state, the employees, the patrons—all of them had a stake in the library, and all wanted to have their say. The building maintenance, the book budget, hiring and firing . ,. and on the home front, two girls who must be in their early twenties by now, and a wife named Marva, who could do simply anything, which I found almost unforgivable.
“I didn’t sleep well,” Sam said. Maybe if he hadn’t slept well for a month, I might have accepted his appearance, but not after one night. “Marva is stenciling a design around the top of our bedroom walls, which she just finished painting.”
See what I mean?
“So I had to sleep in the guest bedroom, and the bed there leaves a lot to be desired. Plus, even with the bedroom door closed, I could still smell the paint, and it just makes me sick.”
Marva had been married to Sam for thirty years, so I was willing to bet she knew that. And yet she’d painted the bedroom in November, when the windows couldn’t be opened. Big message there.
“I don’t expect we can give each other any advice,” I said, for lack of anything else to say.
“I guess not,” he said. “Good luck to you, and again, I’m sorry about Poppy. She taught with Marva for a while and came over to the house from time to time. I liked her, no matter what anyone said.”
That was typical Sam. Mr. Tactful.
I trailed back out into the library, determined to earn my money. I was supposed to be checking people in and out as they used our computers, and giving them extra direction if this was needed. I’d also be filling out the paperwork for our next book order while I sat at the desk.
That part was fun, the little gush of excitement at all those wonderful books coming into our library, just waiting to be picked up and read. (See, I really am a librarian at heart.) But someone had to deal with questions like how much would be charged for printing out information our patrons had found on the Internet, or how to find out the greatest ocean depth recorded, or the best way to look up whether dromedaries have two humps and camels one (or vice versa).
Robin was still there, still leaning on the desk. See, this is why I believe in gun control; because if I’d had a gun, I wouldn’t have had much control over my actions.
“Roe,” he said, aiming his beautiful crinkly smile at me. It would have meant more—in fact, it would have melted my heart—if I hadn’t seen him grinning at Janie just moments before. “I canceled the rest of my signings and came home last night.”
“Robin,” I said coolly. True librarians stay calm in the face of adversity.
He looked considerably taken
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