The Librarianist

Miss Ogilvie saw in Bob a librarian in his element, and she left him to his own devices. When she told him she was taking him off the mornings and putting him on afternoon shift, he asked if he couldn’t stay on as he had been. She asked him why and he explained his preference, his affection for the quiet mornings, and Miss Ogilvie stared, surprised that she should still be able, after all this time, to feel any manner of connection with another person. Her path was ever more rigid, crueler than Bob’s; but she liked that he was the way he was, and she understood it, even if it didn’t mirror precisely her personal experience.

Here was where Bob Comet had landed, then, and he was not displeased that this should be the case. The northwest branch of the public library was where Bob Comet became himself. It was also where he met Connie and Ethan. Connie came first but she didn’t appear as Connie until after Ethan, so really, Ethan came first.

CONNIE CAME FIRST BUT WAS OBSCURED BY HER FATHER, SOMETHING of a legend around the neighborhood in that he did wear a self-made cape and was given to bursts of critical public oration. His mind was teeming with unfriendly thoughts and special threats and he felt these were of a rare and high quality and that it was for the greater good that they be heard. But the era of the soapbox-in-the-square had passed; for want of a forum he gave voice to his points of view in the streets, in parks, often at bus stops, but most commonly on the buses themselves, where people were held captive. The content of the speeches was various but typically of a nature hostile toward mankind’s contemporary behaviors, with close attention paid to the Catholic Church.

The bus drivers did not like Connie’s father’s performances very much, and some did eject him, but many, owing to complacency or fear, let him go on and on. There was one driver who encouraged him via the overhead address system, saying things like “Could you repeat that, sir?” and “Do you have any documentation to support the argument?” and “He seems to really mean that, folks,” and “Let’s give a round of applause to the lively little fellow in sandals.”

There was a figure behind this obstinate individual, and that was Connie. Bob didn’t notice her for a time, as she was hidden away beneath a cape of her own, hers featuring a generous hood, obscuring not only her face but also her gender. She never spoke or made any sudden movements; she trailed after her father or sat in a chair by the library entrance to wait for him, sometimes for the better part of an hour, her posture straight, her hands folded on her lap, gaze focused on the ground.

Connie’s father was on his better behavior in the library. He was always curt, but he was quietly curt. When Bob engaged him, Connie’s father did not try to hide his contempt, but neither did he rail against Bob, as he surely would have had they met on the sidewalk. Connie’s father’s area of focus in terms of his reading was American history, from the country’s conception and up to the current year of 1958. It had become something of a game among the younger library employees to try to uncover the mysteries of the man; one morning at the checkout counter, Bob asked, “No interest in European history, sir?” Connie’s father sighed at the energy he would need to expend in answering the question. He said, “Europe is in the past, is deceased, and so is not my concern. America is imperiled, and will almost certainly follow Europe’s path, but we’ve not yet fallen, and we’re here now, and must do what we can with the time remaining.”

“I didn’t know Europe was doing so bad as that,” Bob said.

“Try opening your eyes. Try opening a newspaper.”

“I’ll do that, sir. Have a nice day.”

Connie’s father turned away, and there in his place stood Connie, watching Bob from under her hood and with a sly look that told him she knew her father was a foolish person, that she knew Bob knew this, and that she was gratified they were in agreement on this point. From this moment forward, and whenever Connie came to the library, she and Bob engaged in a study of one another, but modestly, and with not a word between them. Many weeks passed, throughout which Connie’s father behaved himself; but there was always the sense, for Bob and Connie both, of the situation’s tenuousness, that Connie’s father would at some point lose control of himself. His undoing could have come on any day of any season and for any reason, but it came in the summer, and was encouraged by the presence of two priests.