The Librarianist

Something of the moment had upset his heart. He wished he could have said goodbye to June and Ida, but the idea of an official parting also made him feel shy, and that it might have overwhelmed him. But still and there was this feeling, and Bob didn’t know where to put it. He sat staring at the side of the highway, the pavement gone blurry as it slipped past. The sun was high and bright, angling down and through the front windshield and the sheriff, squinting, was making grabby gestures and pointing to the glove box. “Sunglasses, kid, sunglasses, sunglasses.”

4 2006

AFTER BOB LEARNED THAT CHIP AND CONNIE WERE THE SAME PERSON he hung up the phone and sat in the nook and looked out the window asking himself what he should do. What could he do? There was nothing to do. He took an antihistamine and slept until noon. The sun was out and the snow was melting and he rang Maria at the center, expecting her to take him to task for calling so late the night before but she either didn’t remember or hadn’t made the connection it was him. She spoke of the significance of her fatigue, and mentioned without prompting that Chip was back from her stay at the hospital; also that she and Chip’s son were working together to relocate Chip to more suitable accommodations. “He’s nicer, now that he’s calmed down. He brought me a soggy muffin this morning as a peace offering.” She asked Bob why he was calling and he improvised a story, which was that he had a piece of personal business to attend to which would keep him from visiting the center for a while. Maria was surprised by this. She said, “Personal business is what a volunteer tells me when he wants to quit but doesn’t have the guts to say it.”

“I’m not quitting.”

“What’s the matter, then? Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Okay, but are you?”

“I’m not sick and I’m not quitting,” Bob promised. And he wasn’t quitting, but he couldn’t face Chip knowing she was Connie, and had made the decision to avoid the center until she had gone. Perhaps it was a failure of mettle, some fundamental human test he was not rugged enough to master; and yet the task was so outsize to what he felt he was capable of that he experienced not a twinge of remorse at his turning away from it. Bob didn’t believe that Connie would understand who he was — that his presence would bring her comfort; and so to sit with her now would introduce nothing on her side but a significant pain on his, and he decided he’d had quite enough of it, and that was that. Maria told Bob it was his right as a free citizen to engage in mysteriousnesses but that she hoped he would soon get over whatever it was that was distracting him and return to the fold.

“You’ll save me my seat, then?” Bob asked.

“Well, yes, I will. Just be good and let us know when you want it back.”