Eccentrically

I’ve always believed in fairytale endings.

“Grace, I hate to break this to you.” Sara’s voice sounded tired as she pulled herself a seat. She zipped her bag open and brought out her cell phone before quickly tapping on the keys to a message. “But I can’t spend the whole day with you here in this crappy library that doesn’t even carry books about sex.” She had announced with no signs of regret, for sure she’s been aching to meet her new boyfriend. Well, hello there, raging hormones. “Can we please just go now and actually live our lives?”

My hands trickled gently over the books in the library shelves, checking each title with quick precision. Sometimes, Mrs. Jefferson forgets to reserve their newest book acquisitions for me even though I practically remind her every single time I step here. I always have to double check to make sure.

“Did you just say please, Sara?” I teased, removing Nicholas Spark’s The Last Song excitedly from the shelf. I knew it: Mrs. J’s amnesia has struck again. “I can’t believe what I just heard.” I said, sitting beside her. Sara’s face was now in a crude disposition. This can’t be good, but she looks funny. “You’re practically a saint now.” My senses immediately analyzed the book. It smelled of new printing and was recently covered with plastic. The pages were still intact and crisp. Beautiful. “Congratulations.”

Sara frowned. “Sometimes I don’t understand you.” She quickly stood up from her seat and slung her bag to her shoulder. Well, I guess we’re now even. I never really understood her lack of book appreciation and strong fascination for intercourse. “I’m going now if that’s too much to ask.”

“Be my guest.” I nodded, pointing my finger to the exit.

“I’ll text you later, sweetheart.” She told me, waving her jewel sticker salvaged cellphone. I bet Sara already texted Bradley to pick her up in an archetypal ‘damsel in distress’ mood. ‘Oh, Bradley! It was terrible there with all the rotting pages and old-book scent! Thank you for saving me! Let’s go continue this in bed.’ “I’ll tell Maggie you’re with your sluts at the library.”

Was she pertaining to the books? I dearly hope so. “Great.” I replied nonchalantly, flipping over The Last Song’s pages. Looks like it’ll be interesting. “I’ll tell her you’re going to meet your drug dealer boyfriends at the alleys.” I chuckled lightly, reading the acknowledgments part of the book. “Next time you see that Fred guy again, please do hesitate calling me.” I joked.

“Really?” She stopped on her tracks before looking back at me. “I mean, are you serious?”

“I meant that as a joke.”

“Oh,” Sara’s voice stopped quite short. “Of course, you do.” Her cellphone beeped. Ding! New message. It’s probably from Bradley telling her that he’s now there at the parking lot. How did he get here so fast? Perhaps he’s being too eager for a hot and steamy afternoon. “Call me later, Grace?” She added.

“You know I will.”

Sara smiled – finally. “See you later, love.”

“You too, beautiful.” I blew her a flying kiss.

It was time for my library session to begin.

***

The library was often empty. If I were to try and approximate how many people would go here in a single day, I’d say about at least 70. Give or take around 10. This joint is situated by the popular Hampton Drive but is always neglected by its own townspeople. I guess that’s the main reason why I started going here in the first place.

It was all about the silence.

“Mrs. J,” I said as I pulled a seat beside her. She was smiling as she played minesweeper on her computer. I think she's about to actually win a game of that treacherous adversary. The impossible game as I learned to call it. “I don’t think anyone understands me.” I boldly stated. I guess it was all under the heat of my boredom. “Maybe I’m just alone here in the world.”

Mrs. Jefferson smiled. “Well don’t we all, Grace?”

I remember Mrs. J from the first time I stumbled upon this place in the last two years. My parents have recently divorced, and I couldn’t find a place to stay. I was crying furiously at the steps of the entrance. Suddenly, an old lady sat beside me and asked why I was crying. Back then, of course, I was petty and naïve. I just couldn’t stop the tears from running. But somehow, she made me stop. She asked me to go in, offered me some chocolate and signed me up for a library card that very same day.

For some reason, I kept coming back.

“In a sense, I guess.” I murmured lightly, flipping through the pages of The Last Song. My eyes scanned the sentences quickly though I could already put together some pieces of the story. “At least you’ve got your husband and children.”

“Don’t tell me you want husband and children now, Grace.” She chuckled in a funny and not insulting matter. “I can’t help you with that.”

“Okay,” I tried, resisting laughing. “What about an unserious relationship? Just someone to make me laugh.” In my head, I could imagine the perfect guy. Someone who can make me smile, always by my side when I need him and just plain gorgeous. “Y’know,” I pointed over the romance section. “Like the guys in the books.”

“You want your own Edward Cullen?”

Ha. I’m no scrawny bitch, thanks.

“No,” I immediately retorted back. “Can’t I have Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes instead?” I joked. “Or what about a hot struggling janitor instead? Like the book you’re reading.” I pointed to the book she was now reading.

The two of us kept on laughing for a long time. She shared stories about her teenage relationships and her journey to true love. Somehow, I wish I too was in love. It just seems so magical. And to be quite honest, Love? I never really understood the concept. I’ve been antisocial for so long, no boy has ever even talked to me about anything else but what the answer was to a specific math problem.

Oh, my life.

“Excuse me?” Someone from the door had kindly asked. My eyes revolved to the front, and there he was. His silhouette was dark against the light as he walked towards the circulation section with his shoes slamming heavily against the wooden walkway. “Umm, is this where I can sign-up for a library card?”

It was a young boy, HOPEFULLY, my age. He had brown hair that reached to his shoulders and was smiling. He was too cute. Not exactly the type most would go for. I mean, I did just say that I would love to meet someone plainly gorgeous. (Y'know, blue eyes and olive-skinned?) He also wasn’t built up nor ‘hot’ for that manner. He was honestly in line for being a geek. But it was his smile. His smile sold himself to me.

If I wanted him, I’d have to hide him from Sara.

“Oh,” Mrs. J said in surprise, snapping herself from staring. Even she was hooked. She opened her drawer opened and pulled out a sign-up sheet. “Sign this sheet.”

“Thanks.” The boy said, pulling out a pen from his pocket. The boy looked at me, and I immediately looked away. Argh, this is impossible. I can’t keep myself out from staring.

“Well,” Mrs. Jefferson nudged me by stomach, whispering. I still couldn’t break my gaze away from him as he signed the sheet with caution. Looks like I’ve scared him already. “Something tells me you’re about to get what you wished for.” She whispered lightly.

Yes, hello there, my wish about to come true.