Books in a Window
The light of day hides many things. We think of light as a revealer, a revolution against darkness, the end all be all of waking up the sleeping masses and testament to the idea that tomorrow is a fresh start. Light can be all that. Light also glares and shines and gets in your eye. Makes you passive, unafraid and open.
Books on a shelf know what I mean. Put them in light or darkness. See which they thrive in. The light on a book jacket will cause it to fade and weaken and go mute. Won't tell you nothing about what's in it except that at one time it had a careless owner who thought books in a window were pretty. Light is hell when shined too bright, too long.
Liz knows that. Too well. Long before she came to work at the library, long before all those arrests, long before she could reach the counter at any store, the town knew Liz. Her daddy got killed killing bad guys at the A&P after all. Officer Peter McGovern of the BPD, young wife and daughter, slain by a gunman.
The family broke. Grandparents and aunts and uncles tried to help. Baked things and sent money. But the light of a small town shines bright and long and Liz stood in it her whole life. Caused her hair to go a mouse brown. Her skin pale even on the arm she stuck out a car window driving from the gas station to home to the library to the deep woods. Girl's a past everybody knows about and secrets most don't want.
I hired her because of Brenda. She wanted to keep an eye on Liz and Liz wanted money for little work. Sit behind the circulation desk a few times a week, check people out, shelve some books, hang out with Brenda at lunch. Everybody wins.
When I caught her handing a bag of pot to a fifteen year old in the children's department, I told her no more. Can't have that here. That was a year ago and have not seen it since. Nobody strange or unusual walks through the library doors and calls for Liz. Not for a while.
"Need to see Liz," Benny said. He looked wild, tired and mean, like he had been up all night and staring into a strobe light. "She here?"
"Let me see," I said.
I walked to the staff room. Liz and Brenda sat over salads. They were smiling.
"Benny Ginn's here to see you?" I said.
They stopped smiling. Liz looked at Brenda and Brenda went hard. Liz stood up and walked past me. I followed her. When she cleared the desk, Liz gripped Benny by the arm and pulled him toward the back door. A sweet wind and splash of sunshine swirled into the building as the door opened and closed.
"He say why?" Brenda said from behind me.
"No."
Brenda left early claiming a headache. Liz watched her go, said she would come by later but Brenda just nodded. Liz went along her day in her deflated way, the world balanced on her shoulders.
When the patrons left for the day and the doors locked behind them, only Liz and I were left in the library. The sun had gone down, all life left from the world as the cold February wind died in the trees. The light was gone and secrets could be told.
I handed Liz money and she handed me a brown bag with a little orange bottle with little white pills inside. I said thank you and she said nothing. No light needed to shine on us.