Page 12 of How Does It Feel?

I hated nicknames, and even more, I hated when people tried to shorten my name or call me some other name completely.

“Huh?” he asked, still smiling.

“I’ve asked you before, Cliff. Please don’t shorten my name, it’s so informal and not my name.” I smiled, trying not to feel silly.

I knew it seemed stupid, but I didn’t want anyone calling me anything other than Callie.

“You need to lighten up, Callie,” he said, with no humor in his voice. It was hardly nine in the morning, but he still wore those stupid aviator glasses and ball cap. “You work too much. No, I’m serious”—I had started to interrupt him before he cut me off—“all you do is work. At first, I thought you was just tryin’ to make a good impression on the higher-ups, hell even on the folks around town, but you ain’t never quit, Callie. What have you got to show for all that work? You ain’t got hardly a friend to hang out with, ’cept for me and Cecelia, even though everyone in town likes ya.” His tone dripped with concerned fatherly notes.

I never knew my father, so I was never required to endure that patriarchal tone prior, and I certainly wasn’t going to start now. Sure there was truth to it, but it didn’t matter. I had a purpose. I had goals and plans. If that meant I had only a few friends, so be it. This was more important. Lonely, but more important. I didn’t want to settle down here anyway. I had other places in mind. I couldn’t even think about settling down with someone like him.

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is lighten up a little. You only live so long, ya know?”

I nodded my head and smiled. We had just pulled into the parking lot of the small brick library. I turned, thanked Cliff for the ride, and quickly leaped out to run up the concrete steps and into the small library as I smoothed my ponytail. It was something of an awkward run attempting to disguise it as a calm walk. The library wasn’t very large, but for such a small town, it was surprisingly updated. They held every type of community group you could imagine. Knit-wits was currently using the community room. I glanced through the glass windows to see a group of white-haired older women furiously knitting and chatting.

“Callie! My dear, you didn’t forget about us!” Mrs. Stinson sang happily, standing up from the desk.

“Forget about you? How could I? I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.” I smiled at the older woman, attempting to camouflage my embarrassment.

She was about four foot eleven, with a bony frame and shoulder-length white hair. The type of woman that prided herself on her ability to keep the library’s volume to a minimum, a professional shusher in every sense, if you will.

“Well, the gals are just finishing up. I talked to Cecelia about the horrible butterfly situation.”

She paused to look at me over top of her shiny half-moon glasses waiting for me to further incriminate myself. When I responded with nothing more than a frown, she pulled a chair out from behind the small gray front desk and motioned for me to sit down.

“Am I too early? I don’t want to bother you. I’d be happy to wander around until it’s time?” I asked, still standing, silently hoping to avoid the interrogation on the cusp of happening.

Cecelia and Mrs. Stinson were best friends, and if one didn’t give me a hard time about something, the other certainly would.

“Nonsense, the kids will pile in any minute. Have a seat before they get here. It’s the six-to-eight-year-olds today. Best to have your wits about ya.” She patted the desk chair roughly with a wise smile.

“Six-to-eight-year-olds?” I asked and immediately began to regret my commitment.

“Oh yea, and boy, are they excited to talk to you. You’re a real doll for agreeing to do this, ’specially after last time. Sorry again, little Timmy Endler’s mom says she has no idea how he got ahold of such a powerful slingshot, but don’t worry, he’s eleven now. He won’t be in the group.” She patted my leg before leaning back in her black desk chair. “You’re not gonna look like that forever, ya know? Pretty young thing like you ought to settle down, let a man take care of you for a while. Shoot, if I looked like you, I’d be sitt’n pretty right about now. A whole mess of children runnin’ around. You want children, Callie? Honey, why you sweatin’ so much? Those uniforms don’t breathe much, do they? No, I can tell.”

“Umm . . . no, ma’am, my work is enough for now.” I smiled nervously.

“Oh yes, Cecelia and I know how much your work means to you, miss biologist. To be honest, Callie, you’re just the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. I never seen ya’ without that beautiful smile plastered to your face. Hell, even as I’m grillin’ ya right now look at how sweet you are. I never in all my life seen anyone care so much about others, people or creatures alike. You know we just wanna see you happy, sweetness.” Mrs. Stinson’s voice grew warm and tender as she talked to me, and the act sent a strange warmth through me. She paused to wave at the several parent-child pairs that had begun to pilfer through the entrance.

“That’s sweet of you to say, Mrs. Stinson. Now that the room’s clear, should I get settled in with the kids?” I asked as I stood up from my chair, hoping for a clean getaway.

“Oh yes, I suppose I can’t keep you here all day, much as I’d like your company. Here, read this nice and slow, and then answer a few questions for about five minutes after. I’ll come in and shoo them all out at the end, I remember how much those kids liked you last time. They’ll never let you leave if I don’t make ’em. The park doesn’t know what a gem they have, Callie! Go on now.” She handed me a book on caterpillars and gently pushed me in the direction of the room.

* * *

After the last parents had gathered their adorably curious children, a few of the older kids got rowdy so I helped get the babies to sleep while the parents calmed the older siblings down. They all seemed like they could use a break, and who could pass up holding the sweet bundles of powdery-scented goodness? Once that scent turned more sulfuric, I did, however, return them before saying my goodbyes.

I stood on the cement steps of the library and flicked through my cell phone, contemplating who I could call for a ride besides Cliff or Cecelia when the entrance doors opened and closed behind me. I turned to move out of the way but wasn’t fast enough and nearly knocked down the thin man after he had tried to step aside in the same direction as me. His familiar face was covered by a stack of books nearly as tall as him. I pilfered through my mental filing cabinet for just how I knew his man. Skinny legs and even thinner arms. How those arms even carried the giant stack of books, I had no idea. He wore an orange “Good vibes only” shirt and a tan ball cap that said “Too old to care.”

“Crazy—” I hacked and coughed with embarrassment. “Earl, how are you? Can I help you with those books? That’s quite a stack you’ve got there,” I said. My face had to be the same color as a beet.

“Miss Callie, how ya doing?” The man stepped up the cement step to stand next to me. “Oh, don’t you worry about it, they call me Crazy Earl ’cause I asked them to, it’s just how they remember me,” the rosy-cheeked man said with a kind smile as he straightened the leaning pile of paperbacks.

His warm eyes contained a yellow copper tint with specks of green and brown.

“I’m sorry, Earl, really, that wasn’t very nice of me. Let me help you with those.” I tucked my iPhone into my front pocket and took a few of the books from him.

His smile noticeably widened a fraction.