The Whispers

5: The Library

"I like libraries. It makes me feel comfortable and secure to have walls of words, beautiful and wise, all around me. I always feel better when I can see that there is something to hold back the shadows." - Roger Zelazny, American poet.

-Seven months ago-

Dallas is driving, I'm in the passenger seat, and Maggie is in the back reading a book. I envy her ability to read while in a car - I'll get car sick if I try.

We don't know where we're going. We aren't lost we just don't have a destination. Before we left, Mom took every one of the old jars that Dad used to store things in and tossed them. Thank God she didn't toss the ones in my room. She then proceeded to cry that they were gone and sat on the floor, wailing and unhappy. It wasn't a pleasant sight and thankfully Maggie was still outside looking at bugs. I called Dallas and asked if we could leave so that Maggie didn't have to see mom inside.

Now we're mindlessly driving to the city, searching for a place to stop. We don't see anything for miles until I see a small, white sign on a backroad.

"Let's go to the library!" I say excitedly.

"I love libraries!" Maggie yells.

"Let's go," Dallas turns where the sign tells him to and drives for a few more minutes until we reach a white building with lion statues beside the door. It looked tacky and fancy at the same time, it was almost comical.

We park the car and I rush out, opening Maggie's door and grabbing her hand, telling her to leave the book in the car. I don't need to hold her hand but this way we can move at the same pace and get to the door as quickly as possible.  She's always been a slow walker.

Opening the large doors, Dallas isn't far behind. He gasps when he enters. The shelves were tall and wooden, the books were plentiful and took up the walls of the small building, and a short woman sat at a high desk behind a computer.

"Hello," she greets us.  "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"We're just looking," Dallas answers. He's a kind person because, though many people wouldn't take notice, he answered due to the fact that Maggie and I don't particularly enjoy speaking to strangers. Maggie less so than I. "Thanks, though."

We take our time to admire the architecture of the small building and read the back of books we've never seen before. Maggie takes a book and brings it with her to sit on the singular chair in the corner. The librarian thankfully ignores us.

"I like this place," I say to Dallas.

"It's clean," he points out. "No disorganization or dirt piles that are never swept."

"When have you ever seen a library like that?" I ask in disbelief. Most libraries are lovely.

"The one at school is like that," he says. "It's horrible."

"It's not that bad."

"It is.  The grade sevens will just run about and mess everything up and it will never get fixed."

"It sometimes does," I laugh when he glares at me.

"It never does. I can't believe the custodians let it get that way. I hate it there."

-Present day-

I like libraries. When I was younger Mom would take Maggie and I to the local library once a week to take out two books each, no more in case they get ruined or lost, which they never did because we cherished them. I would love the smell of a book, the way the paper felt beneath my fingers, and the way my imagination would run wild whenever reading them. Dad would always chat up the librarian and jokingly tell us to run, that perhaps the worker won't catch us and we can keep the books without checking them out. We never did. Instead, we waited in line like everyone else, checked them out, and brought them back the next week.