“Correction,” Corinthia said.“I don’t hate the outdoors.I hatebeingin the outdoors.I hate bugs.I despise snakes.I loathe creepy-crawlies in general.”
“But you’ll really do it?You’ll go for a hike in the Refuge?”
“Let’s not call it a hike.I’m allergic to hikes.Let’s call it a short, gentle stroll.”
“Corinthia, if you go a round dozenstepsinto the Refuge, I will buy you lunch.”
“Then it’s a deal.”She put out her hand and her best friend shook it.
Then they waited while Drew continued to browse.
The origami birds trembled.The lights in the artificial tree branches twinkled.Children climbed into the bathtubs and disappeared, only their hands and books visible floating over the rims of the tubs.Corinthia busied herself with the myriad tasks of the circulation desk.
So many people thought librarians were just keepers of books, but they were so much more.To be a librarian was to find out what people needed, and connect them to it.In the old days it might have been a canister of microfiche or the right volume in the law library.Nowadays it might be video game clubs to encourage teen literacy; having a social worker stationed in the library to help the down-and-out; or co-hosting a Wildlife Festival with the Shadow Ridge Environmental Center.
And then the revolving door twirled, and a wind of change entered the library—along with a person.
“Whoisthat?”Stevie said, quietly.
Corinthia, who had been focused on the computer screen and some minor technical malfunction, looked up.
Out of the library entryway she swooped: a petite woman in a billowing blue dress that looked and fluttered like silk; her hair silver-gray and topped with an elaborate jeweled comb.Her face was lively, neither young nor old, perhaps—like Corinthia—in her mid- to late thirties.Though at a distance her eyes were dark, even still they were lit, like the night sky, with the sparkle of stars.She swept past the circulation desk and the soft breeze of her passing caressed Corinthia’s cheek.
Part of Corinthia wanted to stop time—stop the revolving door, stop the revolving Earth, even—just to look at her a little longer.But another part of her knew it would be like trying to hold a wild bird in the palm of her hand.Unreasonable, unthinkable.A wish and a dream, sweet and fleeting, no more.
Corinthia realized her mouth was open when her lips went dry.
Who was that?
Stevie was frantically nudging Corinthia under the table, which reminded Corinthia to close her mouth and try to act normal as she scanned another patron’s selections and printed a receipt.
When they were alone again, Stevie piped up.“Did you see her?”She peered at Corinthia’s face.“Am I crazy, or were you kind of checking her out?”
Corinthia was far above checking out patrons, unless it was in a literal sense, with books.Even patrons in fairy-tale gemstones and soft-looking silk.Corinthia pointedly ignored Stevie.
“You were!”Stevie said, delightedly.“You know,” she added, as if reflecting on something especially satisfying, “I enjoy these occasional reminders that the great and wise Corinthia has tender emotions just like the rest of us.”
Corinthia ignored this as well and instead pointed out that Drew was approaching with a handful of books.
Stevie patted her hair and pinched her cheeks quickly, then crossed her legs, uncrossed them, and finally settled on tucking one leg under and swinging the other in what she probably hoped was an unbothered, carefree manner.
“Good morning, Drew,” Corinthia said.
Drew smiled.“Hey,” she said, a sharp lift of her chin including Stevie in the greeting.Her gruff way of speaking could at first frighten the timid, but Drew’s few words were because she was a rare good listener, who opened her ears before she opened her mouth.
Stevie’s eyelashes fluttered.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?”Corinthia said, politely but with an extra helping of warmth, out of loyalty to Stevie and a desire to prolong the conversation as a good wingwoman should.
Drew leaned on the circulation desk and pushed a short stack of books across the surface.“These,” she said.“But I was looking for the sequel to this.”She handed Corinthia a single title:Alien Space Lesbians.An intensely purple, humanoid woman with scaly skin graced the cover.
Stevie’s eyebrows shot up.
Corinthia took the cue.“Drew, this is my friend, Stevie.Stevie works next door at the environmental center.Stevie, this is Drew.She runs the Drew’s D-Lites food truck.”
“Pleased to meet you, Drew,” Stevie said, adding more eyelash flutters in case the first spasm hadn’t been clear enough.
“Likewise,” Drew said, adding a slow, warm smile.
