After I get Kid Wade tucked safely in my office, I stand with my eyes closed and listen to the noises around me. The fair is going so well. I hear laughter and
conversations and music and life. People are out there in the shop, touching books, reading, exploring. So many things I'd change in myself if I had the
mind but one thing I never would is the feeling I've always had to be surrounded by literature. Maybe the old man was right about me. He used to say I had
been born for this place, for the love of the mustiness of old pages who begged to be read just once more.
Maybe the will to escape into these books isn't about love but about a kind of cowardice. Maybe I think living out loud only invites chaos when I've spent my life trying to disappear from view because if no one sees me, nothing else can be taken from me.
There's a sharp knock at the door. I open it to find Arthur looking for all the world as if he having the time of his life. Who knew he was going to have such a good time helping us keep order today? But he's been doing such a great job.
He tells me we've got a sudden lull in customers. He says that Richard has declared an hour break in the poetry slam and a lot of our customers have chosen this time to go wander among the booths. I shoo him out of the office and tell him to go take his own break for a while. Go have fun outside, I order him. I walk behind him, my hands on his waist and gently guide him from the shop because he's protesting that perhaps it's not such a good thing to leave me alone. I remind him that I do actually know how to work the cash register and I can actually find books that people ask about. When he realizes I'm kidding around with him, he gives me a tiny kiss on the cheek and promises not to be long.
The Library is quieter than it has been all day. There's a small group of kids over with Clarity -- bless her heart for stepping into the void. She's really done an incredible job helping the little ones find the fun of reading. Even Biebe's gotten into the act. I can't get over how sexy he looks, big old bear of a man with such a gentle way with kiddies.
Arthur's kept the tables in the cafe area so clean. I check with the two people sitting by the window to see if they want refills but they're fine. That's when I notice there's someone huddled at the very end of the counter. It's a man and he's almost hunched over the counter. I smile to myself; I'd bet anything he's waiting on his wife, who's outside spending money on art and crafts that he's going to hate when she gets back. Okay, okay, Ann, quit stereotyping!
It isn't until I'm behind the counter that I can see the front of the guy. At first, all I see is his dark head of hair because his face is down as he reads a newspaper he's spread before him and he has a hand in front of his eyes. But when I ask if he wants anything else, then he raises his head and looks at me.
He just looks at me. Says nothing.
"Sergei." I say his name on a wisp of breath. The air feels cold suddenly. "How'd you find me?"
"Were you hiding from me, Ann?"
Ah. This is how we'll play it? Okay. I put a hand on my hip. "There's something about a man who goes to a bit of trouble to track you down when you haven't left him your address ... makes a girl feel so special," I say, with a little eye roll at the end.
"You certainly have some special friends."
There's a tone to his voice that has the slice of a threat.
"I do? Well, they'll be so pleased you think so. Is that what you came to tell me?" I watch the door as I say this, wondering if someone will come in ... wondering if I should be scared because I'm not. I don't think it's why Sergei's here.
"Oddly enough, I thought you were nothing more than the woman Wade was stupid enough to leave. I've come to learn since that you're really more a woman I need to learn more about. It's your friends, you see? They have even more interesting friends."
"Perhaps I should be on Face Book, you think? Imagine them all friending me? I guess you're saying I'd look quite impressive with those friends?" I haven't a clue what I'm chattering away about. It's just that he gets me on these tangents and I can't find the way off. I like talking with him even if I know I shouldn't. I like the way I feel like I've adopted a new persona when he's around. Mata Hari or something. Like nothing can faze me.
He says nothing in reply to my sass. Instead, he simply looks at me. I look back. "What does bring you down here from the big city, Sergei? I get the sense there's something you want to tell me?"
He still just looks at me. I decide to just look back. And wait.
A couple of heartbeats later, he says, "Tell your friends their tricks won't work on me. I'm not afraid."
"I can't picture you afraid. I think we've discussed this before?"
"Tell them I was here. They'll get the message."
Something in those last words makes me take this all a lot more seriously. I lean in a bit toward him. I'm so close I can smell his aftershave. "You've lost me. I'm sorry. I haven't told anyone about meeting you. Why would I?"
Except I'm lying. And I hope he doesn't know it. I think I know the friend who's got friends who'd be interested in Sergei. I think a few puzzle pieces to my recent weeks alone have just clicked into place. I wish Jeremy really were here just now because this would all be over already.
Sergei reaches out to play with the fingers of my hand where it rests on the counter between us. He gazes intently at my hand as he does this. His fingers are slightly rough to the touch. "Do you remember your promise to me? The only thing I demanded of you. Do you remember, Ann?"
He presses his whole hand down atop mine. It doesn't hurt but there is something menacing about how intent he is on me retaining the visual of how much bigger his hand is than mine.
"I remember," I whisper, my voice dark enough to draw his eyes to mine. "He's gone forever, Sergei. But I'll never forget my promise to you. It's just never going to be necessary to keep it -- because I'm never going to see Ben again."
"Don't make me come back here," he says after a long moment of staring at me. "Tell them that."
"There's no one to tell."
He picks up my hand, the one he's been toying with. He presses a kiss over the knuckles. "Now I understand why you talked about books so much on our date. I'll picture you here, Ann, surrounded by your books. You feel safe here?"
I nod, emphatic. "Yes. And don't forget that."
He chuckles. It's low, earthy and powerful, all at once. "Are you threatening me, Ann?"
I grin. "Do I look suicidal to you, Sergei?"
He grins. Then he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet. He tosses a $100 bill on the counter where my hand used to be. "Keep the change," he says.
"I intend to," I say.
"Maybe someday, I'll come back just to shop. You can help me pick out a few books." He stands now and I find myself entranced by his essence when he does.
"Now you're confusing me. You tell me not to make you come back here but then you tell me you want to come back to pick out books? Which is it?"
"One's business. One's pleasure. you strike me as a woman smart enough to know the difference."
And with that, he turns and walks right out of the Library.
I stand behind the counter, replaying this encounter and wondering why I never really had time to get scared but now I feel scared. Because the truth is, I know who I should call and report this to -- but the problem is, he's made it clear calling him is the one thing I can't do -- that I'd be in more danger if I did. And, more than that, Jeremy'd be in danger, too, because he can't afford for anyone to know that I was someone who mattered to him. So there's no one to call and tell them to stop whatever pressure they're putting on Sergei that he thinks is connected to me -- and he could be right but that would mean Jeremy needs me to protect that connection. I would do anything to protect Jeremy. Especially considering all he's doing to protect me.
This is way too far over my head.
Maybe the will to escape into these books isn't about love but about a kind of cowardice. Maybe I think living out loud only invites chaos when I've spent my life trying to disappear from view because if no one sees me, nothing else can be taken from me.
There's a sharp knock at the door. I open it to find Arthur looking for all the world as if he having the time of his life. Who knew he was going to have such a good time helping us keep order today? But he's been doing such a great job.
He tells me we've got a sudden lull in customers. He says that Richard has declared an hour break in the poetry slam and a lot of our customers have chosen this time to go wander among the booths. I shoo him out of the office and tell him to go take his own break for a while. Go have fun outside, I order him. I walk behind him, my hands on his waist and gently guide him from the shop because he's protesting that perhaps it's not such a good thing to leave me alone. I remind him that I do actually know how to work the cash register and I can actually find books that people ask about. When he realizes I'm kidding around with him, he gives me a tiny kiss on the cheek and promises not to be long.
The Library is quieter than it has been all day. There's a small group of kids over with Clarity -- bless her heart for stepping into the void. She's really done an incredible job helping the little ones find the fun of reading. Even Biebe's gotten into the act. I can't get over how sexy he looks, big old bear of a man with such a gentle way with kiddies.
Arthur's kept the tables in the cafe area so clean. I check with the two people sitting by the window to see if they want refills but they're fine. That's when I notice there's someone huddled at the very end of the counter. It's a man and he's almost hunched over the counter. I smile to myself; I'd bet anything he's waiting on his wife, who's outside spending money on art and crafts that he's going to hate when she gets back. Okay, okay, Ann, quit stereotyping!
It isn't until I'm behind the counter that I can see the front of the guy. At first, all I see is his dark head of hair because his face is down as he reads a newspaper he's spread before him and he has a hand in front of his eyes. But when I ask if he wants anything else, then he raises his head and looks at me.
He just looks at me. Says nothing.
"Sergei." I say his name on a wisp of breath. The air feels cold suddenly. "How'd you find me?"
"Were you hiding from me, Ann?"
Ah. This is how we'll play it? Okay. I put a hand on my hip. "There's something about a man who goes to a bit of trouble to track you down when you haven't left him your address ... makes a girl feel so special," I say, with a little eye roll at the end.
"You certainly have some special friends."
There's a tone to his voice that has the slice of a threat.
"I do? Well, they'll be so pleased you think so. Is that what you came to tell me?" I watch the door as I say this, wondering if someone will come in ... wondering if I should be scared because I'm not. I don't think it's why Sergei's here.
"Oddly enough, I thought you were nothing more than the woman Wade was stupid enough to leave. I've come to learn since that you're really more a woman I need to learn more about. It's your friends, you see? They have even more interesting friends."
"Perhaps I should be on Face Book, you think? Imagine them all friending me? I guess you're saying I'd look quite impressive with those friends?" I haven't a clue what I'm chattering away about. It's just that he gets me on these tangents and I can't find the way off. I like talking with him even if I know I shouldn't. I like the way I feel like I've adopted a new persona when he's around. Mata Hari or something. Like nothing can faze me.
He says nothing in reply to my sass. Instead, he simply looks at me. I look back. "What does bring you down here from the big city, Sergei? I get the sense there's something you want to tell me?"
He still just looks at me. I decide to just look back. And wait.
A couple of heartbeats later, he says, "Tell your friends their tricks won't work on me. I'm not afraid."
"I can't picture you afraid. I think we've discussed this before?"
"Tell them I was here. They'll get the message."
Something in those last words makes me take this all a lot more seriously. I lean in a bit toward him. I'm so close I can smell his aftershave. "You've lost me. I'm sorry. I haven't told anyone about meeting you. Why would I?"
Except I'm lying. And I hope he doesn't know it. I think I know the friend who's got friends who'd be interested in Sergei. I think a few puzzle pieces to my recent weeks alone have just clicked into place. I wish Jeremy really were here just now because this would all be over already.
Sergei reaches out to play with the fingers of my hand where it rests on the counter between us. He gazes intently at my hand as he does this. His fingers are slightly rough to the touch. "Do you remember your promise to me? The only thing I demanded of you. Do you remember, Ann?"
He presses his whole hand down atop mine. It doesn't hurt but there is something menacing about how intent he is on me retaining the visual of how much bigger his hand is than mine.
"I remember," I whisper, my voice dark enough to draw his eyes to mine. "He's gone forever, Sergei. But I'll never forget my promise to you. It's just never going to be necessary to keep it -- because I'm never going to see Ben again."
"Don't make me come back here," he says after a long moment of staring at me. "Tell them that."
"There's no one to tell."
He picks up my hand, the one he's been toying with. He presses a kiss over the knuckles. "Now I understand why you talked about books so much on our date. I'll picture you here, Ann, surrounded by your books. You feel safe here?"
I nod, emphatic. "Yes. And don't forget that."
He chuckles. It's low, earthy and powerful, all at once. "Are you threatening me, Ann?"
I grin. "Do I look suicidal to you, Sergei?"
He grins. Then he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet. He tosses a $100 bill on the counter where my hand used to be. "Keep the change," he says.
"I intend to," I say.
"Maybe someday, I'll come back just to shop. You can help me pick out a few books." He stands now and I find myself entranced by his essence when he does.
"Now you're confusing me. You tell me not to make you come back here but then you tell me you want to come back to pick out books? Which is it?"
"One's business. One's pleasure. you strike me as a woman smart enough to know the difference."
And with that, he turns and walks right out of the Library.
I stand behind the counter, replaying this encounter and wondering why I never really had time to get scared but now I feel scared. Because the truth is, I know who I should call and report this to -- but the problem is, he's made it clear calling him is the one thing I can't do -- that I'd be in more danger if I did. And, more than that, Jeremy'd be in danger, too, because he can't afford for anyone to know that I was someone who mattered to him. So there's no one to call and tell them to stop whatever pressure they're putting on Sergei that he thinks is connected to me -- and he could be right but that would mean Jeremy needs me to protect that connection. I would do anything to protect Jeremy. Especially considering all he's doing to protect me.
This is way too far over my head.
