Aidan
“Alright, folks, let’s settle down.” Charlotte’s voice clamors over the din of the gathered book club members and bangs a gavel on the table next to her. We’re back in the library’s meeting room with the book club, which consists of about thirty women of varying ages.
“I know we’re all excited to talk about this month’s book, Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books, by Kirsten Miller, but there’s something I want to talk about first.” Charlotte smiles, waiting for the group to calm down.
They don’t, and she bangs the gavel again, louder this time. “Folks, if I bang this mallet any harder, it’s going to break.”
I stare at the object in her hand.
Is that a crab mallet?
I’m sitting in the corner by the door that leads to the rest of the library. Charlotte is to my right. The Lisas are perched to my left, holding hands, and Nicole is lounging in the chair just beyond them. Sarah is sitting on the other side of the circle, chatting with Johnny and his wife.
“Is it true that the library is going to close?” one of the members asks with a determined look on her face. The rest of the group quiets down to a hush. All eyes shift to Charlotte. “I heard it from Danielle, who heard it from Tracy, and she was at the emergency meeting last week.”
Charlotte nods. “Yes.” She swallows. “The library is slated to close when the new fiscal year starts on July first.” The room erupts in a cacophony of disapproving shouts and hollers.
I shiver in my chair. Some of the loudest women are the oldest of the bunch. One lady who I was introduced to the other day, Karen, shouts, “How dare they! How fucking dare they!”
My gaze whips over to Charlotte for some sort of comfort, but she only leans back in her chair with that smile on her face.
Nicole smirks and lets out a low chuckle.
Lisa W. has thrown her head back, laughing.
Lisa G. looks concerned about her safety.
Johnny crosses his arms and looks pleased with himself.
Banging on her gavel again, she calls out, “Focus, folks, focus!” The uproar dies down to discontented muttering.
She continues, “The other piece of news is that we’re doing something about it.”
Nicole sits up in her chair. “And we need your help.”
“That we do,” Charlotte says, rounding up the crowd. “To recount the facts, the Douglass County executive has submitted a proposal to cut the county library’s budget.” She glances at the gathered group.
The room erupts in curses and shouts again. I grip the edges of my chair and brace against the outrage.
“How dare that executive! I hate him!” Karen screams.
“Where am I going to get my books?” another woman cries. “I’m on retirement and don’t have the budget to buy books.”
“But what about story time?”
“The Homework Crew! Where are we going to have The Homework Crew? My grandkids love it.”
“Why would they close this library? It’s such a great library.”
A masculine laugh from the hallway sends a shudder down my spine, and I crane my neck trying to get a good view of the person.
I only see the faint outline of the back of a man in the cracked doorway.
Even with my limited view, I can tell that the man’s build is similar to mine, and he’s wearing a creaseless suit.
I don’t need to see his face to know it’s my father.
What the fuck is Dan doing here? I haven’t told him specific details of my life, like where I live or where I work.
If he showed up here, could it be purely a coincidence?
He’s probably just meeting with a client here.
Or maybe he’s doing some legal research that’s specific to this library.
Or maybe there’s another talk going on here that he’s interested in?
I did see a sign for a talk with a WWII vet.
Dan does like history. His being here is entirely a coincidence. Right? Right?
I require at least five business days warning before meeting with my father. In days leading up the event, I plan my strategy. I plot out which breathing exercises I’m going to use. I research the menu to figure out what drink I’m going to have at the bar and what food I’m going to eat.
My heart thunders in my ribcage, and that buzzing sound I know all too well distorts my hearing. A tremble that starts in my chest flows to my hands, and I have to sit on them to keep from shaking visibly.
They’re going to see me freak out, I think to myself They’re going to laugh at me. Charlotte will be mortified and will never talk to me again.
I stare at the floor; the sound of Charlotte’s voice being muffled by the distortion of this budding panic attack. I suck in a breath, trying to ground myself.
Everyone here is watching me. They see me. They see how much of a mess I am. Primordial ooze is more put together than me.
I glance back at the man. I have to get out of here, out of their watchful eyes, but if I walk out those doors, then I’ll walk right into him. I’m not prepared. I’m not prepared. I’m not prepared!
Summoning strength in my body, I rise and mutter a quick, “Excuse me,” and stride out the doors.
Confidence, Aidan, confidence.
The air shifts as I leave the meeting room, setting a shudder rocking through my body.
My footfalls change as I step from the carpet to the marble floor.
My gaze is intent on the back of my father.
He turns at my footsteps. Of course he would turn.
He’s always looking to his back to see what’s coming up behind.
But the man who turns around is not my father.
It’s someone else. Someone I don’t know.
Not-Dan nods and says a brief, “Good evening,” and brushes past me.
I somehow squeak out a “Good evening,” but once Not-Dan is gone, the air leaves my body in a rattling sigh. Finding the nearest bench, I collapse and bury my forehead in my hands.
I don’t know how long I sit there, but what seems like only seconds later, a soft voice makes me jump. “Aidan, you ok?”
Charlotte.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Were the ladies too much? I mean, I know they have their opinions, and they make them known, loudly, but…” Her voice trails off.
I shake my head. My voice cracks as I talk.
“No. No. It’s—I wasn’t—They were fine. I like them.
” Letting out a sigh, I add, “I thought I saw someone I really don’t want to see right now.
” My heart starts to slow as I breathe in the heady scent of lavender and vanilla.
I lift my head from my hands. “Shouldn’t you be back in there? Leading the meeting?”
“Sarah is leading this one,” she remarks.
“I’m just the opener. Nobody will miss me.
” Her fingers grip the edge of the bench.
“I just got worried when you walked out. At first, I thought, maybe you’re sick or needed to run to the bathroom, but then I saw you sitting out here and well—” She chews on her lip. “I got worried.”
“Thanks. I’m fine.”
“Who’d you see? Or who do you think you saw?” She asks, shifting closer. She’s wearing a red polka dot dress with a flaring skirt and a soft cream sweater. Her hair is unbound today, cascading around her shoulders and down her back like a golden-brown waterfall.
My mouth opens and goes dry. “My father.”
She nods slowly and shifts on the bench. Our thighs are only a few inches apart. “Ah. Based on how you’re saying that I assume that things are not good.” She tucks her hands under her thighs.
I swallow hard. “He and I don’t have a good relationship.
He finds fault in everything I do.” I thread my fingers together.
“I panicked about seeing him unexpectedly. The last time we spoke, he asked me if we could have a relationship, and I still haven’t made up my mind.
” I’m realizing that I might be yapping, and the acid sloshes in my stomach.
“I kind of thought he was here and was demanding an answer.”
She bobs her head and her golden-brown waves shift with the movement. “Panic attack? You’re not actively having one right now?”
I shake my head. “I’m ok now.”
I brace myself for the possibility that I’m right. That Charlotte is going to judge me for having anxiety and panic attacks. My knuckles groan from the grip I have on my own hands.
“Can I do anything for you?” she asks, her voice is still soft, and her face is more concerned than annoyed.
She jabs a thumb in the direction of the room.
“I don’t have to go back in there. I can sit out here and be with you.
Or I can go grab you some water? Or coffee?
” Her gaze darts around the hallway we’re in.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a vending machine with coffee around here.
I’m not sure where exactly. I can always ask one of the librarians. ”
A soft chuckle escapes through my nose. “I’m ok. Go back inside. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I lean back against the wall behind me, resting my hands on my thighs. “I just need to breathe.”
She studies me for several long seconds, her blue eyes crisscrossing my face. Her mouth parts, and she takes a breath like she’s going to say something more. But no words come out. She runs her hand through her hair. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.” She pulls her lower lip under her teeth.
“Yes. I’m fine. Please go back in. I’ll just be a minute.” I reach over and rest my hand on her knee. The gesture feels a little bit forward, but she grasps my hand and squeezes lightly.
She rises to her feet, and my hand grows cold. “Ok.” She backs away to the meeting room. Her eyes never stray from me. “Promise me you’ll text if you need anything.”
A smile creeps up my face. “I will.” My hand drops to my side and I flex my fingers, trying to remember the touch of her fingers against mine.
With a thumbs up, she leaves me.
I watch her go. My limbs relax, and my spine starts to ache from sitting against an uncomfortable wall. After a few more minutes, I walk back into the room and take my seat next to Charlotte.
She notices my return and smiles. She mouths, “You good?” to which I reply with a nod.
She didn’t run. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t turn up her nose and scowl.
She didn’t call me weak, pathetic, or a sissy.
She looked me in the eye and asked me what I needed.
What I wanted. My mind replays how she has accommodated me when my social anxiety has overwhelmed me. She sees me, and she accepts me.
Maybe she does like me.