Librarian Secrets
Illusion or imagination…?
The pizza parlor was a quaint place that usually had a few tourists visiting, but winter had barely ended, so outsiders hadn’t returned yet.
It was only us locals who still got to enjoy the parlor almost hidden within the tall Cali reds.
The outer wooden walls were old and silently spoke of secrets they held inside.
As if they had heard many tales to be told.
An odd perception for a young man, but it was soon confirmed.
Following Noma up wooden steps that were embedded in the inclining earth, I almost tripped when she quietly spoke over her shoulder. “You keep wanting answers to the wrong questions.”
My mouth parted. My breath caught in my chest.
Alone on the steps surrounded by green moss, she stopped and faced me. We were eye-to-eye since I was two steps below her. Noma’s hand cupped my cheek as if wishing she had better news to deliver. An outside light shined on her aging face that was full of sympathy. “Baby boy.”
Heart stammering, I laid my damaged hand over hers. “I can take it.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as I saw her chin quiver. “Your father is gone. Nothing can change that.”
Her unshed tears had dancing stars in them, causing me more anger, even beyond her frustrating comment. My hand fell from hers, and I growled. “I. Know. That.”
After a pause, her voice cracked. “Then why don’t you ask why he was killed when with—” Her mouth shut. She couldn’t voice what had been so clear, I was now lost to how blind I had been.
Oh my God. “With me.”
As if she was positive this would crush what was left of my broken heart, she nodded, eyes and hand falling to the space between us.
In one last attempt at denial, I asked, “H-how do you know it’s because of me? I-I just happened to be there.”
A deep breath filled her lungs before she exhaled so heavily, her eyes observing our surroundings again. “I wasn’t sure but…” She finally took hold of my disfigured hand. “The surviving brothers of your father’s club have either suffered before dying or have disappeared altogether.”
When visiting a local library, I knew she googled names to keep track of friends, but she never told me of anyone getting hurt, except someone from the hospital. That’s why my lips moved, but no sound rang from my constricted throat. My uncles…
Sorrowfully, she nodded. “Tortured… to find—”
When she didn’t continue, I rushed, “How do you know it wasn’t for some MC revenge? Or—or to kill Dad’s remaining family?”
Her shoulders drooped. “Because—”
“Because why, Noma?—”
She rushed to say, “They didn’t know he had family, honey!”
I kept blinking. She was back to making no sense. Of course, he had family. He had me!
Suddenly, her wringing hands on my tenth birthday seemed so much clearer now. She had warned it was too soon.
Running a hand down my face, I demanded, “Noma, please tell me I wasn’t some sort of secret—” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. The fact he passed on my birthday was painful enough. Now to wonder if it was due to my actual existence—
My souring stomach was begging for the answer I could handle. After all that had transpired, I didn’t want another earth-shattering revelation.
But that’s not how Maddox Gentry’s life rolls.
Noma tried again. “Not all secrets have malice.”
My ears rang so loudly I could barely hear, yet I had to keep my voice down. “A secret makes no sense. I feel like I saw them throughout my whole life.”
She winced while reassuring me, “You did.”
I wanted to explode, but Grandma had started answering me in a place I couldn’t—tricky woman. Staying as calm as possible, I growled, “How’s that keeping a good secret?”
Full of pity for me, she shrugged. “In plain sight, there are many hidden valuables.”
Instantly, I thought of the bag of money on the front seat… Then I thought about how this whole public conversation was proof of valuables. How could anyone guess we would be discussing such an important subject on the stairs to a pizza parlor?
“So,” I attempted, “bikers could just visit some kid without anyone guessing he was the son of an MC—”
“That baby boy,” she pointed to me, “was the grandson of a woman that a biker was dating.” She exhaled the weighted secret. “That’s the only connection any onlookers were to see.”
Unsettled by the creepy notion, I cringed. “You pretended to date Dad?”
Her eyes widened. “What?” Even though this conversation was as heavy as a cement truck, she giggled. “No, silly. Another biker.” As soon as my mouth opened, she held up her little palm. “That book has already been checked out.”
Since she was shutting down her ‘library’, I rolled my eyes and mumbled, “How’d Grandpa feel about this ‘other’ biker?”
As if I were merely a library patron, she replied, “Dear, sir. Please check back to see if that book has been returned.”
I’m ready to burn down your library. “You just unloaded that men I love were—” I waved my hands madly, because I couldn’t say tortured without it possibly being overheard. “Because of me, yet I’m supposed to just ‘check back in’?”
“I must follow the rules set in place. I’m sorry that’s not good for your heart—”
“If you understood what was good for my heart, you would understand how many questions I have.” I placed my hands on my hips and squeezed because I felt so trapped in a nightmare I didn’t create, yet was carrying so much blame for.
“Damn, I’m starting to doubt who my true family is.
Are you even my grandma? By blood, Noma?
” I didn’t think she could be when putting me through all this cruelty.
I had struck her deeply. I saw it in her eyes. “Yes,” she answered in an eerie manner. Her palm cupped my cheek. “And that puts me in danger every single day. Danger, I have been and will always be willing to face. For you.”
I had just been a dick to the woman who was literally fighting to spare me the truth that she knew would alter me, even more than had already been done. My kind Noma had been trying to let me live as long as possible, na?ve of the true dangers I had been too ignorant to recognize.
Noma was correct. She didn’t have a book in her library with the answers I kept demanding. But she did have enough to know that I was in way more trouble than I first believed. Unbeknownst to me until now, it appeared she had been living with this threat since I was born.
Not able to move, now seeing her in a different light, I watched as Noma put on a sweater even though the evening wasn’t cool enough to affect me in the slightest. She then turned to the pizza parlor.
I grabbed my chest, observing very tired legs carry her upward, each wooden step resembling another day she wished she didn’t have to face.
Her dancing hips now hinted at a frailness I wished I could unsee.
That had my childish and bratty ways dissolving long enough for me to witness a strength I hoped to call my own someday. Peering up in awe at the epic pillar in my life, red lights in the pizza parlor windows surrounded her silhouette like an angel the devil wished was his.
But she wasn’t.
Noma was all mine. She proved it every. Single. Fucking. Day.
My home. My shelter.
That very night, I promised myself to be better. If not for me, definitely for the one who endlessly loved me.
In a booth, I sipped on a coke, wondering about the toll all this was taking on her. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more patient. I know you want the best for me.”
With an endearing smile, she placed her hand to her chest. “In blood and heart.”
Nodding, I did the same. “Mad love for your crazy.”
She laughed, easing my worried soul. “If I’m crazy, what does that say for you, grandson?”
“I’m screwed?”
Another boom of laughter echoed in our booth.
Now that the tension was broken, I felt the need to ask, “Noma… are you… okay?” I’d been so focused on my life’s shortcomings that I forgot to care about hers.
We had already ordered two large pizzas, so she was putting her reading glasses away. “Do I not look okay?” She eyed me, a warning that I had better have the correct answer.
That made me laugh now. “Someone fishing for a compliment?”
A sassy grin greeted me as she closed her purse. “Smart-ass.”
In the shower, my loneliness had been all-consuming. Maybe she felt the same at times?
Thoughts of this woman who lived for me only and had no friends, of any sort, had me swirling my straw in the Coke, lost in thought.
“Do, uh, you miss having certain,” cough “uh, special moments,” I rushed, “thataren’tsoeasytocomebywhen,” cough, “when caring for a grandson?” I quickly started sucking on my straw to avoid any more embarrassment.
There was silence, then, “You askin’ if I miss getting laid?”
Coca-Cola shot from my nose and lips. Trying to wipe my mouth, I shrieked, “Noma!”
In a feminine manner, she promptly ran her aging fingers through her graying hair, which she kept dyed. “Sinner, back in the day, your grandma was a—”
“And I’m the sinner?”
“I never said being a sinner was a bad thing. At least that’s what I told your grandpa when he would—”
Begging for mercy, I lifted my sticky hands between us. “Not before the pizza.”
Pfft! “After? So you can puke up money just spent?” She handed me a napkin. “No, thank you.” Using a different napkin to wipe the table free of my external explosion, she giggled. “I made your grandpa work for some of this kitten, I promise you that.”
Kitten??? “Oh, gross—”
“Prrr…”
“Noma, for real. I’m gonna vomit.”
“And Grandpa looooved him some puuuutty cat…”
My face dropped into my palms. Kill me.
The next day, saw me sitting at the pass-through kitchen window, eating a mound of scrambled eggs, thinking about the conversation from last night, about Noma facing danger every day.
My gaze swept over her and the row of cabinets behind her and the stove where she cooked our meals.
The kitchen wasn’t large and held only appliances, cabinets, and the little table with two chairs tucked in the corner where we sat together.
When she was more focused on pushing food in my direction as I sat on the stool outside the kitchen reach-through window.
We never used the formal dining room. Maybe that was only for her and Grandpa.
“Whoooee,” teased Noma from the kitchen in front of me. “It’s smoky in here with the steam coming out of your ears.”
Smirking, I reached for more buttered toast but stopped when noticing my deformity. “How can I protect you with this—” I examined my shame. “This—”
Noma snatched my hand through the window and pressed it to her chest. “This hand you’re insulting is nothing but proof of you being a fighter. I treasure what you see to be a curse.”
I let my fork fall to the plate of food. “But I can’t even make a strong fist.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Not like a normal teenager.”
She kissed my scar. Then growled, “Who the fuck wants to be normal?”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
Trying to be casual about it, I pulled my hand back. “You’re blinded by your love for me.”
She clucked her tongue with much attitude. “Or gifted with sight by that love.” Then she reached through the window and smacked me upside the head. “Eat.”
Chuckling, I did just that. Smiling with a mouth full, I said, “Yu’s, mu’m.”
“Here.” A heap of bacon clunked onto my plate.
That’s when I noticed a bruise on her arm. “What did you do there?”
She appeared puzzled while observing it. “No idea. I may need some iron supplements.” Accusingly, she squinted at me. “Your sinner ways are sucking the life out of me.”
“Wow.” I faked hurt feelings. “I thought you said being a sinner wasn’t actually a bad thing.”
A piece of toast flew at my head.