What You Let Us See
Jason: Mike, can you help today?
Mike: Isn’t Amanda your brawn?
Amanda: These guns are going back to bed.
Jon: Somebody tuckered themselves out?
Amanda: I can still wrestle you to the floor.
Mike: Can we add that to pride events?
Amanda: I’ll gayly wrestle you to the floor.
Jason: Why am I friends with you?
Jon: I’m cute.
Amanda: Fear. Definitely fear.
I trudged across the green, the box balanced on my shoulder.
Jason’s shop had turned into an explosion of pride.
The packages kept arriving, and the local shop owners sorted through them, turning their decorations from tactful to full-blown gay Mardi Gras.
Firefly didn’t know how to do anything half-assed.
I reached the library stairs. The last time I stood here, I had been in heels, wearing all white and angel wings. It wasn’t enough to show up for the kiddos and read from their favorite books. Mabel insisted the spectacle was part of the experience.
I worked my way up the stairs and pulled at the door.
The hinges groaned as I stepped out of the sunlight and into the mood lighting of the library.
As soon as the door shut, it was as if the hustle of the green vanished.
In here, anything above a whisper would be met with an immediate shushing from Tyler and the patrons.
Unless Mabel appeared, then the kids would let out ear-piercing squeals.
Into the library I went. With every inhale came the intoxicating scent of books. Did anybody in the universe dislike the smell of a library? If I could, I’d bottle the aroma and turn it into a cologne.
Like a true librarian, Tyler’s desk held stacks of books waiting to be returned to their shelves.
His head popped up, only the top visible.
I had seen the expression countless times, the excitement that set in when he found an opportunity to marry the right book with the right reader.
I tried not to take the disappointment on his face personally.
“Jason sent me.”
“Bookmarks!” Even Tyler had fallen victim to Pride fever. “And wrapping paper!”
I swung the box around, dropping it on his desk. The thud echoed off the walls, and I swore a layer of dust went into the air. The only thing missing was his cozy sweater and oversized glasses. Tyler loved to lean into the librarian stereotype.
“What do you need wrapping paper for?”
“Blind date with a book.”
“Blind, what?”
“Blind date with a book!” he repeated himself, as if it made more sense the second time. He stood up, lifting a book. “I wrap the books so nobody can see them. I might put something on the tag like, ‘Maiden Saves Herself,’ and that’s it. The reader takes it, not knowing what’s inside.”
“Cute idea.”
“And since it’s Pride…” He gestured to all the books on his desk. “Of course, they’re either queer characters or queer authors.”
“Look at you getting into the spirit.”
He gave a slight bow. “When I first ran the idea by Gladys, she liked it but complained. I quote, ‘Can you make it a little more… you know.’ I nearly died.”
“She’s trying so hard,” I admitted.
“A little too hard.” He shook his head. “When she asked if I was a dom or a sub, I couldn’t end that conversation fast enough.”
My jaw dropped. “She didn’t?”
He nodded. “Right after she thought a glory hole was what we called the men in the gay choir.”
I snorted. Gladys wasn’t ready for the advanced course on queer culture. Still, I gave her props for putting aside her ignorance and asking questions. I’m sure we’d hear her telling people to shut their glory holes for years to come.
“Firefly never ceases to amaze,” I said.
“Speaking of Firefly.” I should have known it was coming. So far, I had navigated the town without probing questions. I didn’t know if it was the spirit of Pride or the high of spending an evening with Sammy, but I was ready… I think.
“Yes?”
“The kids miss you.”
“They miss Mabel.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I’m following.” Unlike Sammy, Tyler wouldn’t let me avoid the conversation.
“The kids don’t know who I am. They only know Mabel.”
“You’re Mabel.”
“I’m Mike.”
His eyes narrowed. “Nice to meet you, Mike. Hi, I’m lost.”
I wasn’t sure how much Patrick had told the bears, but it appeared he had been sparse with information. The fact that he kept it to himself made me appreciate him even more. Though if he had spilled the beans, I wouldn’t have had to do the work.
“I retired her so I could be me again. She had taken over my life.”
“You mean, you let her take over your life.”
Tyler didn’t mince his words. The statement hit like a slap in the face.
“It’s not like I—” I stopped as his expression soured. “I guess so.”
“When you look at me, what’s the first thing you see?”
“Jon’s boyfriend.”
He buried his face in his hands. “First off, Jon’s my boyfriend.” It made little sense, but I got the picture. “What else?”
I pointed at the books. “Librarian?”
“And?”
“The guy with a coloring book addiction?”
“We really need to hang out more.” He moved around the desk, sitting on the edge. “Most people come in here and see a librarian. It makes sense. But when I’m home, what do you think Jon sees?”
“A teddy bear,” I said with a smile. “His cuddle bug.”
He sighed. “Jon needs to stop sharing everything. But you get my point. This place is a part of me. It’s not who I am.”
I hadn’t expected a simple delivery to turn into a healthy dose of wisdom. I saw why Jon appreciated his cuddle bug so much, but I didn’t think Tyler quite understood the situation.
“Everybody sees me, and all they can think about is Mabel. The kids don’t—”
“What do kids know? They eat off the floor.”
Fair point.
“Gladys then.”
“I think you’re reading into it. She didn’t ask Mabel to be marshal.” He put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “She asked Mike if Mabel would do it. There’s a difference.”
I tried to think of a retort, something that would prove him wrong. Had I misread her intentions? Had my insecurities rewritten an entirely harmless question? I didn’t dare speak, partly because I feared Tyler might be right.
“We see what you let us see,” he said.
His words were honest and his tone sympathetic. They also cut through the confusion and got to the heart of why I tucked her away.
“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t wrong; I just wasn’t ready to process. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“You should.” He slid off the desk and patted me on the back as we moved toward the exit. “I’m always right.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course.” He leaned in close and whispered. “I’m the librarian.”
I chuckled as he pulled the door open. We stood on the porch of the library as the sounds of Firefly returned. Kids played on the green while shop owners continued setting up their booths. Even the gardeners were out in force, ensuring the rose bushes would be nothing short of divine.
The shouting, however, that was unexpected.
Down the sidewalk, three men were in a heated debate.
Well, if debating meant one person did all the talking at maximum volume.
All three must have been in their late sixties, the bald man and silver fox biting their tongues while the other with gray hair waved a finger in their faces.
“Who’s that?”
“The quiet one is Aaron. The white-haired fox is his partner, Thom. They’ve lived here forever. If I remember correctly, they were on the selectman’s board when I was a kid.”
“The other guy?”
Tyler shrugged. “Never seen him before in my life.”
Coming from him, that meant the person wasn’t from Firefly. Folks had their disagreements, but I had never seen them this loud or this public. It wouldn’t be long before somebody attempted reading lips and spread it through the phone tree.
“Whatever it is,” Tyler said. “It’s heated.” He started back inside. “Take care, Mike.”
I walked across the green, trying to take his words to heart.
He wasn’t wrong, and I think that’s what frustrated me most. When I had a quiet moment, I’d think about it.
For now, I wished I could hear the argument happening on the sidewalk.
By the expressions on a group of gardeners, it appeared I wasn’t the only one.
By lunch, Rose could fill me in on the details.
Firefly abhorred secrets.
“Jason, I hate you.”
I tried hooking the glass door to the bistro with my foot. On the second failed attempt, Dorothy took pity and opened it. After delivering boxes all morning, my back hurt more than the time I backflipped off stage. It was time to admit I wasn’t a spring chicken anymore.
“I’d help you, but…” Dorothy gave my ass a pat as I walked inside. “It’ll firm up those cheeks.”
I gave a slight wave to Walter and Harvey as I passed.
As always, nearly every table had been filled.
When Gladys looked in my direction, I lifted the box, hiding my face.
When I was ready to talk with her, it wouldn’t be in a public setting.
I silently prayed she wouldn’t shout above the noise of the crowd and invite me to join her.
I picked up my pace, heading toward the kitchen.
Pushing through the swinging door, the delicious smells intensified. The crowd faded away, drowned out by sizzling bacon and the scrape of spatulas against the cooktop. My belly rumbled, and I realized I had been helping Jason all day and had forgotten to have lunch.
“I come bearing gifts,” I announced.
Simon didn’t move through his kitchen—he danced. Bouncing from the stove to the food prep area, his eyes never looked up. He maintained laser focus as he carefully slid eggs from a pan onto a plate. Adding a sprig of greenery, he set them on the shelf and smacked the bell.
Summoned by the loud chime, Dorothy appeared.
Without a word, she snatched the plates and vanished into the dining room.
From the cooking shows on television, I expected a disgruntled chef and a waiter shivering in the corner.
Simon had a serious face, but it never dipped into anger.
Focus. Passion. They were evident every time he set food on the shelf.
“Sorry,” he said.