Chapter 2: Bloody Hell
May 28, 1978
Location: Work
Stress Level: Let's not talk about it.
So, where did I leave you off? Oh, right. I just told you about my boss. I'm a little embarrassed writing all this down. Do you ever get the feeling that there's someone reading over your shoulder, even when you know nobody else is in the room? I get that feeling all the time. It took me forever last night to finish writing about Irving, because I was so frightened he'd tiptoed into the bedroom somehow, and I'd find him behind me screeching, "Your boss?! You're in love with your boss?!"
I have a teensy bit of an overactive imagination, as I'm sure you can tell.
Only about twenty minutes left until work. I'm finishing up my usual egg and cheese croissant and a peanut butter shake in my favorite coffee shop downtown, Worcester Gourmet Coffee House. I work downtown, so Worcester is extremely convenient.
Argh...I hate the walk to the library. It's only three blocks away from Worcester, but morning traffic is so terrible that my walk takes me four times as long as it should. When I finally entered Reigate Library, Trudy, my friend Sherry's boss and my superior, was glaring at me from behind the circulation desk.
"You're late, Lily," she said crossly. "Third time this month! I'll have to report you to Laney if it happens again." She wagged her finger at me as though I were a naughty child.
"Be my guest," I muttered before walking off to the children's department, where I work. Ironic, really, since I rather dislike children.
"Lily!" said Sherry cheerfully, waving from behind the children's desk. Yes! Sherry was working children's with me! Sherry normally works in the AV department, but since the library is short-handed as a whole, she bounces around a lot. I don't see why Sherry even needed to be on the desk. The library had just opened; no children were in our department yet.
"Sherry! Good morning!" I replied, grinning, and dropped my bag behind the desk. I leaned toward Sherry, glanced over my shoulder, then whispered, "Caroline hasn't been here yet, has she?"
"Not yet," answered Sherry. "But you should busy yourself before she rushes over."
I snorted. "That's the only time she ever rushes, when she wants to assign me a job. She'd order someone to rush for her if she could."
Caroline is our coworker. She's only a library assistant 1, the lowest position next to being a volunteer, yet she acts like she's the assistant regional librarian. Her job is to come up with arts and crafts and then set them up for children's activities. Except rather than putting them all together herself, she creates an `example' and then brings the supplies to me, like I'm some volunteer.
"How long are you on the desk?" I asked.
Sherry glanced at the clock. "Five more minutes. Laney's taking over when she gets here." Laney is my boss, the head of the children's department. I have several bosses; Laney's the lowest ranking of them.
"Sherry, we know each other well enough to have a serious discussion about men, right?" I asked while cutting bookmark patterns with the slicing tool.
Sherry smiled. "Yeah, I think so."
Sherry had been married and divorced twice, and her children were both at least ten years older than me. She may not have been overly successful in love, but she gave good advice and I trusted her judgment.
I set down the book mark patterns, glanced at the floor, then back up at Sherry. "Have you ever had a...thing for an older man?"
"Of course," said Sherry, laughing. "What woman hasn't?"
I nodded. "Okay, well...have you ever fancied an engaged man before?" I braced myself for the reaction.
Sherry stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Might've. I can't remember; I'm getting old."
I rolled my eyes. "Fifty-four is not that old, Sher. Besides, you don't look a day over thirty-five."
"Oh, stop it," said Sherry with a giggle, and swatted me on my shoulder. "My Christmas list this year will be `Lily, Lily, Lily' all down the page after that one."
"Well, you have nice skin," I said earnestly. "Wonderful skin. I hope I have the same luck when I'm older."
Sherry blushed and smiled. "So who's this man?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. What should I do about him being engaged?"
"Back off," she advised. "He's committed himself to his fiancée."
I hesitated for a moment. "But what if he's been sending me signs that he finds me attractive?"
Sherry cocked an eyebrow. "Has he? What kinds of signs? I want to hear this."
At the thought of him, I smiled. "The smallest one is that he stares at me a lot. When we're in the same room, I always catch him glancing my way, and when he catches my eye, he'll either look away instantly, or hold my gaze for a few seconds. Then, during a party we were at, he mentioned that the friend I brought didn't really look like she wanted to be there. I told him he was right, that I'd made her come to get her out of the house, and he said, `Well, that's good. I mean, I'm glad you came.'
"Curious," said Sherry, "but don't you think those things could be just normal behavior?"
"I have more," I said bashfully.
"Of course. Excuse my interruption," she apologized.
"No problem." I waved it away. "Another example would be--"
A high-pitched giggle cut me off. Running past the desk went a child of about four. He held a lit wand above his head like it was an Olympic torch.
"Excuse me, young man," began Sherry, rising from her chair. "Where did you get--?"
"CHARLES JEFFREY GINSBURG!" yelled the voice of a flustered young woman; a moment later, she materialized in front of the desk, panting from having run down the staircase from the second floor. She paused for only an instant to glance at the two harassed-looking employees behind the desk.
"Pardon me, ma'am," I tried, but the woman's bellows drowned me out.
"Don't-you-EVER-take-mummy's-wand-again!" growled the woman through gritted teeth, accenting each word with a hard swat on the youngster's bottom. He no longer oozed triumph; rather, he oozed tears.
All onlookers felt frightened at the display. Even Trudy--that cow--was visibly appalled with the boy's punishment; the circulation desk, from certain vantage points, provided a view to the children's department.
"Lady, I'm going to have to call security," said Sherry. She waved over the bored guard, who had been leaning against the wall, attempting to crack a walnut with his teeth.
The security guard escorted the protesting woman and her sobbing child to the front doors. A second later, Laney appeared.
"You can return to AV.," she told Sherry. Sherry nodded and stood up from the chair.
"See you," I mumbled, disappointed. Confusion and depression filled me, and I suddenly felt too tired to deal with work. In a matter of seconds, I transformed from happy, excited Lily to an android version of myself. For a few minutes, I felt almost certain that my dilemma would end, that Sherry, with her greater experience, would present me with a solution I had failed to conceive. Sadly, I was mistaken. Tonight I'd return home to Irving, as usual, to face his annoying attempts at romance.
"--amazing the sorts of loonies we get in here, isn't it?" Laney was saying, shaking her head in dismay.
"Yeah," I said halfheartedly.
"Well," said Laney crisply, reverting to her business-like tone. "I have a job for you."
Splendid, I thought bitterly. (Aren't I too young to be bitter?)
"What is it?" I asked, correcting my slouch. I'd been leaning on my elbow against the desk, twirling the eraser end of a pencil on the surface absently.
She handed me an envelope. "This came from The Friends this morning; it's their response to our request to buy more books. Mr. Potter needs to sign the enclosed form to complete the transaction. Got that?"
I frowned. Of course I've got it! I thought scathingly. I'm twenty years old, not six!
"I think so," I said in falsely sweet tones, and speed-walked out of the children's department.
I stared at the envelope, smiling. This definitely improved my morning. Happy, excited Lily broke through her android exterior, and as a result I found myself nearly skipping up the stairs humming "One Fine Day."
Mr. Potter's office resided on the second floor of Reigate Library. He was the only one of us whose office was an actual room. That's because, unlike Caroline, he was the assistant regional librarian, the most senior one can be without being on the board of directors. When I arrived at his lovely walled-in office, I saw that it was dark. Was Mr. Potter not coming in today? Perhaps he was just in a meeting or something. Desperate to do anything but the menial tasks Laney undoubtedly had in store for me, I committed myself to wait around for ten minutes to see if he showed up.
Ten minutes later, after becoming so bored that I'd begun to count the checks on a nearby woman's jacket, I stood to leave, tired of waiting, even for someone as pleasant as Mr. Potter. Android Lily started to take over when I noticed a figure making its way toward Mr. Potter's office. I grinned; it was him! He didn't look happy, though.
As he neared the office, he spotted me and smiled. "Lily. Good morning."
"Good morning," I said cheerily. "I brought a letter for you." I held it out. "It's from The Friends of the library."
He took the envelope and pocketed it without opening it. While unlocking his door, he said, "And you brought yourself. Come on in, Lily."
Pondering the potential meaning of his former statement, I followed him into his office. I'd been there countless times before, sometimes to discuss library business (which, admittedly, wasn't that often), but mainly just to chat. His office's only distinguishing feature was the pile of CDs on his desk: Abba, the Bee Gees, the Carpenters, the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Elton John, Terry Jacks, John Denver, and Mary MacGregor. He liked the same type of Muggle music as me.
I made myself comfortable in a chair in front of his desk. He unpacked his things in a distracted sort of way, getting ready for work. The troubled wrinkles returned to his forehead. My curiosity got the better of me.
"Mr. Potter, is anything wrong?" I said tentatively. "You seem a little...bothered." I anxiously awaited his response, wondering if I'd crossed some sort of boss/employee line.
His back faced me. When he heard my query, he hung his head for a moment, the way people do when they're really vexed. Then he turned around.
"There is, actually," he admitted. "But it's pretty heavy."
I wanted so badly to know. "Well," I said, sounding awkward, "if you need someone to talk to..."
He pulled out his desk chair and sat down, facing me across the desk as he always did when we talked. Only this time it was different. It felt more like we were friends. He ran his hand nervously through his hair and stared about the room a bit before he started.
"I told you about my fiancée Melissa, right?" he asked.
Like I could ever forget her. "I think maybe you mentioned her a few times," I said.
He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Please, if this is going to be too much for you, stop me now. I don't want to drag you into this."
"It's no trouble to listen," I assured him. "My friend Emma is going through a divorce. I always talk to her about relationships. I'm an old hand at this."
He gave me a grateful smile. "You're a good friend."
A feeling of warmth coursed through me. I smiled.
"Things have changed between Melissa and me since we got engaged," he said. His smile had vanished. "I don't know if I've started picking up more on her personality, or if she's been acting different lately. When we were just dating, she was confident, fun, and very...`take charge', if that makes any sense. I was in awe of her. She always knew what to do; she never missed a beat." He paused, mulling something over. "She still is that way, I suppose, but in a different way. Now it's like she unzipped some sort of suit she was wearing and out came this frightening version of Melissa. She's turned our wedding into a project. I never realized what a planner she is until recently." He sighed. "I guess I should have expected this. She's a barrister; she has a job on Fleet Street. Barristers approach everything as projects." He paused again, looking a little guilty, but at the same time, relieved.
"Maybe you didn't notice because you weren't spending as much time together before?" I said, not wanting him to be too hard on himself. I felt ashamed at the part of me that was glad for their problems.
"Perhaps that's it," he said thoughtfully, "but what if she wasn't being entirely...real before?"
"It's possible," I said, taking note that the thought seemed to distress him.
"Melissa's always so jittery and she can never just relax, you know? I honestly think she doesn't know how to. And she never seems comfortable in her own skin, either. She's always complaining about her body. It's really starting to bug me. I feel like I'm with a totally different person."
For a moment I sat in silence, taking it all in. "This is heavy."
He laughed, surprised at my remark. "You don't have to come up with any advice if you don't want to. It was nice enough that you listened."
"Have you talked about your concerns with her?" I said determinedly, wanting to be of use.
"No," he confessed. "I've been trying to convince myself that this all has to do with us being engaged now, that there's not actually anything wrong."
"Maybe you should talk to her," I suggested. "I think it will help."
He ran his hand through his hair again, causing it to look even messier than it already was. "You think so? I just don't want to upset her...she's always under so much pressure...."
"Also," I said more confidently, glad for the amount of women's magazines I read, "think about the good and bad times you've had with Melissa and see which group outweighs the other. That might help you feel better about your relationship, if the good outweighs the bad."
"That's a good idea, too," said Mr. Potter. "Thanks, Lily, for all you've done. It's great to have a friend at work I can talk to. Nobody else here has tried to get to know me like you have."
I tried to come off like our talks didn't mean the world to me. "It's no problem, Mr. Potter. I enjoy talking to you. I hope things get better for you with Melissa."
My forced wishes of success fooled him. He smiled at me. "I hope so too."
There was a pause. I felt as though I should go back downstairs. I started to leave. "Goodbye, Mr. Potter."
He watched me walk to the door. "Goodbye, Lily." My hand had just wrapped around the doorknob when he added, "By the way, you can call me James. We've known each other long enough for that."
- - -
Location: Emma's
Time: Evening
"He said you could call him James?" said Emma excitedly. She was sitting beside Sophia's high chair, trying to convince her to eat some mushy green goop. Bella was using her dinner to create a cesspit beside me at the table, unnoticed by her mother. "Well, that's progress, isn't it?"
Emma was always encouraging me when it came to my boss. Okay...James. It feels so odd to refer to him as James. This will take some getting used to.
"I suppose it is," I said, "but Em, he's engaged, for the five-thousandth time! There's no hope for me."
"Engaged is not married," said Emma with a naughty smile. "Besides, you said he and what's-her-face are having issues." Suddenly, Emma frowned. Sophia was determinedly squeezing her lips shut. She wasn't having any of that green junk. "Oh, bloody hell, Sophia, just eat one spoonful of peas, won't you?"
"Ooh, Mummy," said Bella in an admonishing tone. "You're not supposed to say naughty words!"
Emma and I exchanged a look. I was trying not to laugh, but Emma didn't appear to appreciate her daughter's criticism.
"Anyway, Em," I continued, "I am not going to throw myself at him, especially not after our talk today! He's clearly very confused about his relationship and he doesn't need me in the mix buggering it all up."
Emma rolled her eyes. "You are too good. Being good is all right sometimes, but Lily, you've got to go after the things you want, and you know you want him."
I blushed at her choice of words. "Yes, I know, but I just can't bring myself to interfere like that. It's not me. If we were to ever get together - and I fully believe this will never happen - I want it to be because he chose me, not because I schemed to ruin his relationship."
"I'm not saying you should ruin his relationship," Emma amended. "I just think you should make it a bit clearer how you feel about him. Don't be so `just friends' all the time. Give him something to really think about."
I sighed. Emma is my best friend and all, but sometimes I just can't get through to her. She thinks everyone should be assertive and sexy and confident all the time like she is. I'm sure she meant well by her advice, but none of it ever really helped when it came to James. I think she enjoyed giving me advice for a change. I was usually the one talking with her about getting over Doug.
I glanced at the clock. It was seven-thirty. Irving would be wondering where I was. We'd moved in together during the last month, despite our problems. He suggested it. He said it would bring us together. It hadn't worked yet.
I stood and began to gather my things. "I'd better go, Em. Irving will have dinner ready by now."
She raised an eyebrow. "He's cooking for you now, is he?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling guilty, "he's been trying so hard lately."
Emma waved her hand dismissively. She didn't care at all for Irving.
"Enjoy your romantic evening!" she said with a smirk.
At that moment, Sophia spat out the peas Emma had just gotten her to put in her mouth. They got all down Emma's front. I can't say I was sorry to see it after that remark.
O O O
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