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I strode up to the front desk. Claire was there, as usual. Eleanor wasn’t there, as usual. I’d ask for Eleanor to… something, something, something. I wasn’t sure. Claire would figure it out and would call Eleanor to the front desk anyway. Then I could at least chat with Eleanor, discuss our situation, figure out whether it was over temporarily or forever. I could live with either option. I’d have to live with either option. I just wanted to know.
“Hey, how are you?” I called out to Claire, standing behind the desk.
“How can I help you?” she answered. She didn’t seem to question who I was. Her eyes flashed recognition. She just didn’t seem to deal with me very warmly, despite knowing who I was.
“Hey, remember me? Aiden, the UPS guy? I’m not wearing my uniform.”
“Hello. How can I help you?” Maybe she just wasn’t in much of a friendly mood.
“Is Eleanor around?”
“Ah, I believe she busy right now. Do you have an appointment?”
“No.” I laughed. “Do I need one?”
“Yes.” Claire wasn’t joking. “The head librarian normally only meets patrons by appointment. Is there anything we can help you with?”
“Um. Do you have a copy of Khalil Gibran, The Prophet?”
Claire typed on the computer and clicked. “We do have it in the catalog, but it’s not on the shelf. Looks like it’s on internal checkout.”
“Internal checkout? Is that supposed to be an oxymoron?”
“No.” She shook her head sternly. “It means it was taken home by a library employee.”
“Ah. Aha. I see.”
“Anything else I can help you with?”
“So, Eleanor, the head librarian, is not available?”
“No, she’s not.”
“Ah.”
That was all I could say. I didn’t have a response prepared. I hadn’t even planned for that possibility for my extended lunch break. I’d just assumed that Eleanor would be there at the library, awaiting me, like a puppy. Maybe that disappointment would be my lesson that she wasn’t my waiting puppy.
I should’ve acted faster, maybe. I should’ve called Eleanor back after minutes, not hours, maybe. I should’ve rushed over to the library that same day instead of waiting nearly two weeks, maybe.
Claire not-so-subtly sidestepped over to serve the next person waiting at the desk. A woman wanted to reserve a book about having a healthy pregnancy. Eleanor must’ve been really off her rocker when she’d called asking about kids. Maybe getting away from her was only for the best.
I stepped out of the library and walked a block downhill to Starbucks. I could console myself with a cup of coffee before taking an Uber back to the UPS depot.
“Aiden G, grande triple soy latte extra-hot for Aiden G.”
It was my Starbucks name since there was always more than one Aiden in line. Eleanor certainly didn’t have that problem. I took a seat at the counter by the window, pulled the lid off the latte, and stared into the milky froth.
“Decaf venti soy latte, hundred twenty degrees, shot of cream, double whip cream on top, caramel drizzle, cinnamon sprinkles, eleven pumps of praline syrup, for Eleanor. I’m not gonna repeat all that, but drink at the counter is for Eleanor. And a cup of ice. For chewing, apparently.”
What in the world?
“And we’ve got a plain double espresso for Doc, double espresso for Doc.”
Then Eleanor, that Eleanor, librarian Eleanor, strode up to the Starbucks counter. With a man in tow; an older guy, at least sixty, wearing a doctor’s scrubs. The dude was definitely robbing the cradle. Gross. Whatever. Eleanor’s life. And maybe no grosser than her having hooked up with the UPS man.
She took the big drink, the sugar daddy the small drink, and they sat down together on a sofa. A sofa, just like the sofa Eleanor and I had used for our love rendezvous. Would Eleanor read Lord Byron to this old guy too?
She didn’t notice me. It was smart not to wear my uniform for stalking… meeting Eleanor during my lunch break. I felt invisible. Invisible in a good way, like having a superpower.
I drank my extra-hot drink. I couldn’t help but look out the corner of my eye at the happy couple of Eleanor and the old guy. She was laughing and loading a piece of turkey from a Starbucks sandwich into a cut-open Starbucks scone. She wasn’t even eating the sandwich.
She was eating, chewing spoonfuls of ice she was scooping into her mouth from the plastic cup. Eleanor had really gone off the deep end; the kid phone call, the bizarre drink order, the date with an elderly doctor, the ice-chewing, and the putting turkey in a scone. Maybe it was for the best that we weren’t in touch, even if I missed her, a lot.
Chapter Seven - Eleanor
I’d been napping on the mat I kept in my little private office when I heard the alarm. As always, it was coming from somewhere in the main area. A few times a year there was a false fire alarm from some kids pulling the handle or some nicotine addict lighting up in the bathroom. It would be gone in a few minutes, and I could go back to sleep.
