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Children are so inherently kind and gentle. They have their moments when their little bodies have big reactions, but luckily we’ve never had any big issues. The parents are usually ready to step in if it becomes too much.
“Okay, everyone find your spot on the carpet. Plant your butts! Crisscross applesauce so you all have room!” I whisper-shout, giving them my excited energy but maintaining a respectful library volume.
“Who can tell me what is behind me?” I ask, pointing over my shoulder to my backdrop.
“A farm! A pig! Grass! A big red barn!” They all take turns answering, each one pointing out something different.
“Yes. Exactly right. Any guesses for what I’ll be reading today?” I keep my book tucked behind my back so they can’t peek, shrugging my shoulders as they take turns guessing.
“Charlotte’s Web!” I finally concede, showing them the cover of the book. They all clap, even though I’m sure they have no idea what it’s about. Another thing I love about children is their ability to be happy about everything.
I spend the hour putting on an excellent display of reading the story, acting out the actions, as well as identifying and sounding out all of the animal noises as we come across them. Ending our time together letting the kids tell me about all the animals they’ve seen in the wild. Cadderpillers, uhskeetas (mosquitos), and wild squirrels (not to be mistaken for the pet squirrel that Junior’s cousin has) were my favorite contributions.
I’m still laughing to myself as I put my props away and return to my computer station. I don’t know how I got so lucky to get paid to do this job and to listen to these silly kids on a biweekly basis.
I look to Latisha, planning to fill her in on story time since she usually asks when I notice her eyes are big and round under her red jeweled glasses. She pings her gaze off to the side and then back to me quickly, trying to direct my attention.
My good mood deflates instantly as I see Kyle stalking toward me. Oh no.
“Hi, Kyle.” I can’t hide the tremor in my voice. I hate confrontation! Even as a little girl, before my life went to shit, I couldn’t stand being scolded. I was a teacher’s pet, a people pleaser. The thought of someone being angry with me causes deep emotional turmoil and being talked down to or yelled at has always resulted in tears.
“You can’t fire me. I need the money,” he barks the words at me. He’s not yelling yet, but his voice is way too loud for comfort in the near-silent library.
“I’m sorry. I can’t afford it. I’m sorry.” I keep apologizing as if I’m the problem and not him, hoping this conversation doesn’t escalate.
“You don’t care that you’re screwing me over?” He almost shouts this time and I can tell we’re being watched. My skin is already on fire and I know my face is red.
“Please, let’s talk about this outside.” I motion him toward the courtyard where the sound will be muffled from the rest of the library. I’m not brave enough to go out the front doors and out of sight of Latisha’s watchful eye. She’ll let me handle this by myself because I prefer it that way, but I know she’d have no problem stepping in if necessary.
He storms in front of me, launching the glass door open that leads to the courtyard. I have to catch it before it slams shut, doing my best to lessen this dramatic display he’s putting on.
“I need the money!” He launches right back into his argument, completely disregarding that I have no more money to give him.
“Kyle. I am so sorry if you feel like you’re losing out on money, but the bathroom has taken too long. I can’t afford to let you keep working, and I can’t afford more materials,” I tell him truthfully.
“Oh. So I’m the problem? I’m too slow and you don’t like how I’m doing things?” He spews, taking my words out of proportion. He’s angry, his face is twisted and he keeps shoving his hands in and out of his pockets, pacing back and forth.
“Please, Kyle. I just need my key. Then you never have to talk to me again. Please.” I barely manage to get the words out, my whole body is shaking. I can’t handle stressful situations like a normal person, my adrenaline is running rampant.
Despite the heat of this courtyard at the end of summer in the south, I hug myself, clutching my sweater around my torso as if it will protect me from this situation.
“Here’s your damn key.” He throws, no, absolutely beams it in my direction, barely missing me. All I can do is flinch as it hits the glass and clatters to the ground behind me.
“Get. The fuck. Out of here.” A dangerously deep voice growls from the other side of the courtyard. My gaze whips to the door that leads to the Adult Literature section and it’s as if time freezes.
Standing there with all the authority of someone who isn’t afraid of anything, is the man that won’t escape my thoughts. Library man. Bar man.
His frame fills the doorway, the corded muscles of his forearm bulging as he grips the door in his hand. His hat is low on his head, making his eyes appear darker than I now know them to be. If his stare was directed toward me I’d be terrified, but it’s not. The full force of his disapproval is directed at Kyle.
Kyle, who is looking back at him menacingly, debating on whether he wants to keep arguing. After a few tense seconds, he ultimately decides it’s not worth it. It’s obvious that he would lose any type of fight against this opponent.
“Man. Whatever.” He spits on the concrete a few feet from me before taking a step to leave.
“This way. Don’t take a step in her direction.” My green-eyed savior demands, holding his door open wider, forcing Kyle to walk right past him. “Don’t come back either,” he orders.
We both watch him stomp through the library and exit through the double doors with a hard shove. I’m having a hard time reminding myself to breathe.
The two of us are alone in the courtyard now, but I’m still in too much shock to find any words to say. I’m hugging myself where I stand while he stays where he is by the door, not moving any closer.
