Don’t Ask
“Don’t ask,” she forcefully said as she stared him down.
He sheepishly scratched his forehead as he twirled his pen between his fingers. He was skilled, a pen twirler from way back. She wasn’t impressed.
She let out a deep breath and looked around the library. Typical day, more workers than patrons. The only people there were looking through the DVDs. By her calculations, over 90% of the library’s business was DVDs. Few people bothered to approach the counter with a single book. No big surprise.
Two men walked through the door. She immediately guessed where they were going. Most people who came through the door were looking for the bathroom. That is all they wanted. Another set of people needed to use the computers for a bit. The rest were homeless, trying to get out of the weather. Along with the warmth, they needed to charge their phones if they were lucky enough to have one.
A young mother with two kids, the oldest might be four, walked in next. They headed straight for the children’s section. The older one ran for the toy train with his little sister close behind. Mom breathed a sigh of relief; for a few minutes, she could relax, if only for a little.
The librarian at the Information Desk was watching cat videos supplied by her computer. Her headphones looked official, letting the library customers think she was researching some problem posed by one of the literate people from the community. Most people realized the chances of that were low; anyone literate in this community would know better than to ask a local librarian for help with anything.
She leaned back and looked slightly to her left. Was she there? Was she on the schedule for today? She was young and pretty with the body of a college cheerleader. Just her type. Sure, the odds they could go out and do anything were low, but hope was all she had. No matter how outlandish or impossible, hope got her up in the morning, or afternoon, or whenever she decided to get out of bed.
“If you would just…”
“Don’t talk to me. Why don’t you move to another table? You’re bothering me.”
The young man picked up his large backpack and made his way to the exit. He knew the drill; if she called out for help, he would have to spend hours dealing with the police. His attitude would have been different if he thought they might bring him in and feed him. He might have gotten aggressive and made sure that security called the police.
As he walked through the doors, another man entered. Loudly mumbling to himself, he made his way straight to the restroom. She imagined that if she were any closer, she would smell him before she saw him. He yelped as he turned the corner to the restroom. She shook her head.
She checked her phone, 80%. The charge might get her through the night if she could stay a little longer. It wasn’t raining; there was none in the forecast, even though it was going to get close to freezing. She would probably need to find someplace to stay. Never one to depend on the kindness of strangers, she thought of the possibilities.
Decades ago, this would have been easy. She had more attention than she wanted. Never had a problem staying where she wanted for as long as she wished. Youthful complexions and athletic bodies are treated that way. No one told her that the party would be over one day and that her looks would fade to a point where people would instead look away than be forced to make eye contact.
She looked down at the book she had grabbed randomly from a shelf. It made it easier for people to ignore her if they thought she was busy reading. As she turned a page, the yelping man came out of the restroom. He was cursing up a storm. She sighed as she looked down at her book. Don’t do it. Don’t walk my way. You better stop.
A security guard intercepted and guided him toward the exit as he approached her table. Only after the man swung at him did the security guard motion for the desk staff to call the police.
She turned another page as she scanned the room for other threats. Seeing none, she picked up her phone to check the charge. 85%, still not good enough. She needed a little more to be sure she could get through the night.
She felt someone coming up behind her. She quickly turned to find one of the library employees on her shoulder.
“You alright? Do you need anything? Social Services has a van outside. They have a nurse and some food.”
She nodded without looking the woman in the eyes. She was too embarrassed to say that she was desperate and needed more help than people in a van could give. Most of us can’t survive on good intentions. She wanted to tell the woman that all the homeless in the library needed more help. They needed to believe that they were worth something, that they were something more than a burden on society.
She glanced at her phone, still 85%. She wiggled the cable. It appeared to stop charging. She pulled off the electrical tape and then retaped the end of the cable. Still nothing.
As she looked up, another man carrying a large pack walked through the library doors. He was another yelper. Yelp, two steps yelp, two steps. Same today as every other day. Same tomorrow, too. She knew him; the entire community knew each other. She collected her backpack, quickly put the phone and cord into a compartment, and headed toward the disturbed man. She caught him just before he reached the restrooms. She flew into him as fast as she could. After he fell, she jumped on top of him and started beating him as quickly and as hard as possible. The man didn’t fight back; he just kept yelping at the same rate. A metronome, I am beating a metronome.
The security guard seemed to take his time getting to her. He and the police were still dealing with the first man. When the police caught a glimpse of the altercation, they rushed toward them. One of the officers grabbed her by the backpack and quickly pulled her off the yelping man. They dragged her toward a wall and cuffed her. Only then did they turn their attention to the man on the ground.
A librarian, shaking her head in disgust, walked toward her and sighed.
“You and I know he is harmless. Why on earth did you do that?”
She looked up and tried her best to catch her breath. All she could think to say was, “Don’t ask.”
