The Librarianist

Throughout Ida’s soliloquy, Mr. More had stood in a wincing half-crouch; but now, and with Ida silent, he elongated and breathed, attractive in his way, with his empty sleeve folded crisply, pegged in place with a gleaming silver bib pin. “Hello, Ida,” he said. “I do offer you soup, yes, and the offer for soup stands. I made the soup myself in anticipation of your arrival, thinking it might hearten you. It goes without saying, though I am saying it, that making soup with one arm is not easy. I tell you this not to complain but to unveil the full picture. Beyond the soup, about which I agree too much has been said, I can also offer you room and board for the duration of your stay. If you wish not to perform, you may consider it a complimentary seaside vacation. If you do wish to perform, and my sincere hope is that you do wish it, and that you will, you can have any and all monies the performances generate, and I myself shall not take one solitary penny. I can’t guarantee these monies will be robust, and in truth there may be none. This town has been dying for some years now, and recently succumbed to death. Yes, the town is dead. As I say these words I believe I see a question forming in your eyes, and it is: If the town has died, then why has he invited us to come here at all?” The women both were nodding, and Ida was nodding emphatically. “I will explain,” Mr. More continued. “My invitation to you came on the heels of a town council meeting wherein it was announced the timber companies were returning. The companies themselves were in attendance and made a good showing; they had maps which they pointed to with retracting pointer-outers and they were passing out embossed business cards and pencils with little tassels sprouting off the ends, so that I believed their fictions. Here is an error of judgment I admit to; I was told a whopper which I took for truth. Well, I wanted it to be true; there’s a powerful pull in that. I still think it was true at the time, actually — I believe the companies themselves believed they were coming back to us. But something has happened, or has not happened, and while the timber companies continue to ply their trade both upcoast and down, Mansfield is missed and missed again. Their secretaries have ceased engaging with me telephonically and through the mails, and I don’t understand the why of it and I likely never shall.”

A girl of sixteen exited the hotel pushing a rusted old hand truck. Her face was pale, her hair greasy, and she looked unhappy, perhaps angry, as she awkwardly navigated the hand truck down the blue-painted stairs. There was much clattering and crashing and wheel screeching, which alerted Mr. More of her approach; he brightened when he saw her, pointed as she wheeled past him. “My grand-niece, Alice. She was not with us when last we met. Alice also is excited about the show. Alice, aren’t you excited about the show?”

“Oh, I’m excited,” said Alice, in a bland tone that embodied the opposite of excitement. She arrived at the edge of the hill of baggage and began loading up the cart. Soon she would discover Bob’s obscured person, and the waiting for this created an agony in him. Electing to hurry the discovery along, he stood, and Alice shrieked, and the rest all turned to see him. Mr. More said, “Would you look at that, a hidden-away boy, whatever in the world.”

“It’s Bob!” said June.

“You know him?”

“Yes, he’s Bob. Hello, Bob. I was thinking of you during Ida’s — rant.”

Bob waved hello to June.

“I was thinking,” said June to Mr. More, “‘Oh no, where’s Bob?’”

“And now you’ve found him, and isn’t that nice?” Mr. More replied. “But, what is he doing all bent down like that?”

“He’s a desperate figure on the run, Mr. More, and so we can only guess at his motives.”

“He looks like a normal boy to me,” said Mr. More. “Hello, hello.”

“Hello,” Bob said.

“Do you like soup, Bob?”

“What kind of soup?” Bob asked, and Mr. More and June and even Ida, though not Alice, all laughed at his innocent query, and Bob didn’t understand why but was happy to have connected them with a pleasing amusement.