The Simplest Thing in the World

The next morning the sun flooded my room, signaling the start of a brand new day. I changed my clothes, trying to make my mess as small and contained as possible seeing as how I still had yet to unpack my suitcase.
“Good morning, Celia!” Harold beamed at me as I walked into the kitchen still tugging at my shirt trying to make it look flat and non-wrinkly. It was not working. I needed to hang up my clothes, and soon, unless I wanted to look messy while in London.

“Would you like some nosh?”

I crinkled my nose, “What is nosh?”

“Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting you are not from around here. Nosh…it’s food.”

“What kind of food?”

“All kinds. It isn’t a specific food. It just means food in general.”

“Oh,” I said, slightly embarrassed. “No thanks. I’m not really all that hungry. I thought I might go back to that library actually. I mean, if that is okay with you. I would like to check it out.”

“Oh, sure, sure. Um…do you want me to go with you? So you do not get lost?”

It felt silly to have him asking to go with me as if I f were a child, which I suppose being a teenager in a foreign country…that is what I amounted to.

“No, no thank you. You do not have to. I can find my way alone.”

I patted my pockets, checking to make sure I had my phone with me. I had started toward the front door when Harold’s voice stopped me.

“Wait, Celia!” He grabbed a piece of paper from the nearby table and scribbled on it.

He pressed it into my palm, “Here’s our address and phone number just in case you have any trouble.”

“Thanks,” I said with a small smile. It was nice that he was worried about me.

“Be safe,” he called out after me.

I skipped down three flights of stairs, and made a left turn down the sidewalk. I could not remember step by step directions to my destination, but I knew the general area I wanted to head toward. I figured I would get to so some sightseeing as well as visit the library. For a Sunday morning the people of London were hustling and bustling. Many of them walked around in nice clothing, more than likely coming from church. I passed various bakery’s and restraints along with more places of residence. After about twenty minutes of aimless strolling, I was beginning to get worried. Nothing around me looked familiar, and I was beginning to think I had indeed gotten lost. I may as well have gotten lost in the desert with the way I began responding. And then, I found it. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I began the ascend up the stone stairs, passing the lion bodies as I did so. Instead of the normal “PULL” or “PUSH” doors, the building had a revolving one, making the edifice look that much more important and grand. This library made the one in Chicago look like a cardboard box. Looking up, I saw the library had three levels to it. There were little placards scattered around the lobby telling where things were located. First floor held the information desk, the “kiddie” books, Young Adult books, and electronic media; second floor held general fiction and non-fiction; third floor was strictly labeled as the lounging floor. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. I felt as if I had just stepped into a Hilton hotel. I made my way to the second floor, taking everything in.
“Austen…Austen…Austen,” I repeated to myself as my fingers skimmed across the spines of novels in the “Classics” section.
“Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park…ah, there you are. Pride and Prejudice,” I said, pulling it off the shelf gingerly. I should have brought my own copy with me, but I had not thought of it. The lounging floor was beautiful. Huge, cushy chairs littered the entire room. A few mahogany tables were also always somewhere nearby, for your convenience of course. Surprisingly, the floor appeared to be empty. Perfect, I thought to myself.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” I read as I began to lose myself in the story I knew oh-so well.

“Ah, Jane Austen…nice choice.”

I gasped, dropping the book into my lap. The voice came from behind me. I turned to see a boy, my age. His hair was short, but long enough to sweep lightly over his forehead. It was a unique color mix of black and brown. His Adam’s Apple stuck out, and I notices a slight cleft chin. He had black, circle earrings in. They reminded me of buttons.

He put his hands up defensively, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The boy maneuvered around the chair I occupied and sat in the one next to me. I readjusted the book, flattening out the pages that had bent.

“It’s okay. I just thought I was alone up here.”

He raised his eyebrows, “You’re American.”

My eyes went wide, and I glanced around, “I am?” I whispered. “No way!”

“Yes way!”

“Guess what,” I asked him, leaning closer just a smidge.

“What?”

“You’re British,” I whispered.

“No!”

I sat back in my chair, smiling slightly. It had been a while since I’d been able to laugh, and it felt nice. Although, I knew I didn’t deserve it.

He laughed, extending his hand toward me, “I’m Charlie.”

“Celia.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Celia.”

I smiled and returned to my novel.

“Your shirt’s all wrinkly.”

I set my book down, “Are you always this observant?”

“Yes,” he said. “So, what are you doing at the library so early in the morning?”

“Jet lag?”

He screwed up his face, “I don’t think jet lag works that way. Isn’t it like…the wee hours of the morning in America right now?”

I glanced at the clock behind me and calculated mentally.

“…Yes. I’m just here, okay? Is that alright with you?”

He just sat and smiled at me, not offering a response. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. Rolling my eyes, I returned to my book as he raised his legs up on the nearby table. An elderly woman walking by thumped his on the head and scolded him for it, but didn’t press it. He cracked a smile, and opened his eyes just long enough to give her a wink.

Who is this guy? I thought to myself.



A few hours later, I was nearly finished with the book, and my stomach was signaling that it needed nourishment. Slowly and silently, I stood up and went to put the book back in its proper place. I took one last glance at the boy whose arms had gone limp with stupor and whose mouth hung open slightly while a patch of drool formed on his lower lip. After getting the book back to its home, I headed home…sort of.

“Did I come from the right or left?” I mumbled to myself.

Right. Definitely right.

“Wait! Celia!”

The drooling boy was running toward me.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye to me? That hurts.”

I shrugged nonchalantly, “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.” I pointed to the corner of his mouth. “You have a little something right there.”

He wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt as his face turned a bright shad of pink. I swiveled around and continued on my trek home.

“So, how do you like our little slice of heaven?” He asked, following me.

“Well, I haven’t really around enough places to make any kind of assessment. I like your airport, and I like your library.”

He dodged an on-coming pedestrian until he walked in step with myself.

“Wait, when did you get here?”

“Yesterday morning. Like way morning. In the “wee” hours,” I answered, throwing in the same word he had previously used.

“And the first place you go is a library? Weird. So, is your family here on vacation? Or what?”

My body tensed. This guy was poking around in places where he wasn’t welcome. If he thought he could just stand there with an innocent look on his…wait. Stop it. Stop it, Celia. He is innocent. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know your life.

“I’m just staying with my grandparents for a year. You know, like a study abroad kind of experience.”

If I thought about it real hard, it wasn’t really all that far from the truth.

His face lit up, “Oh, brilliant! That’s really cool! Must be very exciting for you.”

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, glancing around me as I tried to find something recognizable, “Yeah. It’s great.”

“Are you alright? You look lost.”

People brushed past me hastily, jostling me and muttering rude obscenities. Charlie moved me to the edge of the walk where people were more scarce.

“It was right. Right? It was. It had to have been.” I muttered to myself.

Charlie watched me with bemused eyes. I pulled out the slip of paper Harold had given me from my pocket, examining it carefully. With a chuckle, Charlie snatched it away from me. He smiled, pocketed the paper and guided me in the opposite direction.

“You should have gone left.”



Fifteen minutes later, we stood in front of my new home…erg…building.

“Here we are. This is it, yes?”

“Yes, thank you.” I responded reluctantly. “How did you know where it was?”

He shrugged, “I live here.”

With my mouth agape, I said, “You live here?!”

“Yes. I mean, no! I don’t live here,” he gestured to my building. “I live here. In London. Plus, I actually do live a few streets over, so yes, I’m familiar with this area.”

“Oh, well…thanks again…Charlie. It was nice to meet you.”

He smiled and stuck out his hand which I shook, “Same to you. We should do this again sometime.”

I laughed, “Yeah. Alright. See you later.”

With a wave, he melted into the crowd before disappearing completely.