True

CHANCES WERE

 

The blue sky burns hot. Sidewalks seem to sizzle.  And I don't know what to do with myself. Loneliness is a curse for which I have found no magic words, no balms to attract a friend, no smile big enough or wink flirtatious enough to 'make my day.'

 

I watch the newspaper small ads telling me all the activities for the week but none draw me. The plans are too far away for me to even find the locations or the timing doesn't fit into my food shopping or for a doctor's appointment. I know very well what I need but so far haven't found any who need me. The library is my haven. While I seldom read a book any more, spend time writing my own stories, I spot a showing at Elkton's main library where a documentary film will be shown at 1:30 p.m. this coming Fri. I call in, put my name on the list and at least have something of interest ahead.

 

Oh, I haven't mentioned yet I am eighty-eight years old, still look damn good. I'm slender, 5'5", dress fashionably but not wildly. The library is my sanctuary!  Readers are the friendliest of people. Just a glance at mothers bringing their tots to story hour, makes my heart open, feel the warmth. They are so adorable I stop one after the other to tell them how cute their pink shoes are, or ask about the dress the little blonde is wearing. Mothers kvell, enjoy my interest.

 

I am much too early for the film showing so I amble over to the aisle where I assume mystery books will be lined up like stalwart soldiers on guard. Rows and rows of authors, their books still looking brand new, never touched by human hands, until I remove a new James Patterson book, read page one and return it to its space. I try another, don't bother opening it at all and walk out into the large and active lobby.

 

Along one wall in the lobby are very comfortable armed chairs, separated with about 3 feet of space. I make myself comfortable, pretend I am reading. I shut Patterson and look again at those coming in and leaving. Time barely moves. No one has yet lined up at the door where the film will be shown. I am getting a bit antsy. A lady, younger than I but not by much, sits in the chair on my right and we get into a discussion about politics. She is waiting for a friend and keeps her eyes going back and forth to the door.

 

I swear I do not notice anyone approach me but suddenly, from the chair on my right, I see a blur just about ready to sit down. By the time his rear end is set ok  he is leaning towards me. 'Hello,' he says. 'I'm Bob? What's yours?' Well, we are in the library and I came to be with people so I reply, 'Susan.' 'And where are you from, Susan?' he asks. I smile and tell him with my fake Southern drawl, 'Why Georgia, Bob. Can't you tell? At that he turns towards me. Words fall quickly from his mouth which looks like it has held many cigarettes. 'Come outside with me, Susan.' I beg off. Bob repeats himself, 'Come outside with me, Susan' and I repeat , 'No, thank you, Bob. I'm staying right here.'

 

There is a definite change in his voice. It deepens, seems coarse, showing a sign of anger. 'I said,' he says, ' I told you to come outside with me now!' The lady sitting on the other side of me starts to squirm. I do not. He insists it is lovely outdoors and I tell him he's wrong. 'It's hot as hell out there and I'm staying in this nice air-conditioned building.'  Bob storms out, telling me to wait, he'll be right back.

 

Now, dear Reader, would you wait? I waited to see what he would do and of course, Bob never returns.  Chills go up and down my spine as I picture being inside the trunk of his car, bleeding, dead.

 

The lady sitting near me is very upset, not for me but because her friend hasn't showed up. Readers are piling in for the film and I sit, trying to concentrate on it, but just can't. What should I do? Bob may be waiting for me outside. Then I realize I still have James Patterson's book on my lap and have to return it to the shelf. Like a jackass, I walk silently right past the librarian. Where was my mind? Why didn't I tell her about Bob, have her call the sheriff? Why? I guess I'm stupid.

 

You, however have been warned. This man who at first seemed so friendly wasn't. This time he met his match but you, dear Reader had better be alert. Look around. Study strangers. Accept no invitations. Who knows, Bob may be Harry today and may be waiting at the library door for you.