“Chance Encounter”
Jul
'08
When you enter Beaumont Library, you’re greeted with the smiling faces of enthusiastic employees and patrons. They’re always smiling. They are all extremely happy to be there and the librarians are always happy to assist. That’s what makes Beaumont Library such a wonderful community place.
Eve never thought she would get the job, but she had gotten a reply not a week after her application. It had taken a month to get her affairs settled back home, say goodbye to her friends, and sort through her belongings. A trip across the country to live in a hotel requires one to give up certain material objects.
The hotel wasn’t ideal, of course. Eve wished she had found an apartment in time, but she refused to live somewhere she’d never been inside. Looking at pictures on the Internet was fine, but it wasn’t proper to sign a year long lease based on a photograph. Now she was stuck in a small hotel room until she found suitable living conditions. Thus far, Portland hadn’t much to offer.
She sighed and looked around her. Already she had made a good friend in a coworker, a woman named Carla. She was mousey, like Eve, but she had a radiant personality to match her gorgeous blonde hair. Eve, on the other hand, was a little shy at first. Carla was very welcoming, however, and opened her up before any of the other employees could. She was sure Eve would fit right in and feel at home within a month. Eve wanted to agree.
A child walked up to the desk asking for any books about dragons. The other librarians were assisting others, so Eve took a deep breath and officially began her role as a Beaumont Library employee.
“Did you want dragon story books, or are you just looking for books that talk about dragons as an animal?”
The child looked unsure of herself, biting her lip and looking towards the ground. “I suppose both would do,” she said quietly, clearly trying to sound as educated on the subject as possible, though Eve gathered that perhaps this one had only read one or two things about dragons and wanted to explore further. She smiled. Kids were so wonderful.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I happen to know a bit about dragons so I might be able to show you a few that you’d like.”
The child’s face brightened and she followed obediently as Eve led her to the fantasy side of the children’s book section. In truth, she only knew as much as she’d read, which wasn’t a lot; not to mention the fact that Eve didn’t generally read literature for kids, so she lacked the knowledge necessary to recommend specific books. She made a mental note to fix this as soon as possible.
“Let’s see… Well, have you read the Eragon books? I haven’t read them myself, but they seem to be very popular.”
The girl determindly shook her head no, adding, “I don’t like those.” She looked disgusted at the thought, which was just as well because Eve noticed that the books were all checked out.
“Here’s one! I read these when I was your age. They’re very good, and funny to boot.” She handed the girl a copy of the first book in the Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Eve had indeed enjoyed those when she was younger and she remembered a time when she would wait impatiently for the next in the series to be released. She’d call the bookstore almost daily until, finally, they revealed that there was a copy waiting just for her. The girl looked ecstatic and egged the librarian on for more selections. The book she clutched tightly to her chest.
That was the extent of Eve’s knowledge, but fortunately for her, most dragon books for kids have the word “dragon” in the title. She started a stack for the girl including Dragonwings by Laurence Yep, Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke, Dragon’s Nest by Emily Rodda (the first in a series), How to Raise and Keep a Dragon by Joe Nigg, among others. With every book added to the pile, the girl looked at Eve in absolute admiration. Clearly, she had superpowers.
Eve offered another of her warm smiles. It was rewarding enough just to get that kind of look from any patron, but from a child it made her entire career choice worthwhile. When she’d collected all she could, she turned to the child. “Well, I hope you’re happy with this selection! If you ever have any other questions, you can come to me if you’d like. My name is Eve, and it’s very nice to have been able to help you today.”
All shyness left the child. She set the books on a table and said, “Oh, thank you very much for helping me. I’m going to read all these books! I’m Georgette Walla.” It was very formal the way Georgette politely offered her hand, shook Eve’s, and then waited to see if Eve had anything else to say. Seeing that Eve wasn’t going to continue, she picked up her books, slurred a “thank you, Miss Eve” and hurried off into the opposite direction. Eve was struck. She wasn’t shocked that the girl was so polite, but that she was so forward, and that she had called her “Miss Eve.” Like a dream come true.
She vaguely heard Georgette calling to her “Uncle Chris” about all the books she found and wanted to check out, but Carla was beckoning her over to the circulation desk so she couldn’t ponder her victories for the moment.
“That was great! I told you that you’d fit right in.”
Eve blushed. She thought there was something important Carla wanted to say; she hadn’t realized that the whole encounter had been witnessed and that her friend was ever ready to praise her.
“You did really well, I’m so proud of you. And I can tell by your face that you’re proud of yourself!”
“Well, you know, I worked at a library before I came here. It’s not like I’ve never helped a patron before!”
Carla glared, but with a playful grin. “Of course, but you worked in a city library. At city libraries, you probably have less chance to help the relatives of rockstars.”
Eve stood stark still and silent. “Rock stars?” she squeaked.
“Yeah, they come in here all the time. I think she’s his niece or something. See?” She pointed in Georgette’s direction; she was excitedly explaining every book in the stack to her “Uncle Chris” who nodded and smiled at each, sometimes adding inaudible commentary.
Eve relaxed, then shrugged. “If he’s a rock star, I don’t know his band. Sorry.” No need to get worked up. It’s not like he was Kurt Cobain back from the dead. That certainly would have been frightening.
“Oh my gosh, act natural.” Carla started rustling papers and decided it’d be best to tie up the landline by picking up the phone and pretending to help a patron. Georgette was pointing in their direction; Eve guessed that the girl was pointing out the librarian who had helped her find all those interesting books. Again, she shrugged, and started making her grocery list. Anything that would get Carla’s intense stare off of her for not immediately “acting natural” in the presence of someone who was clearly important to her.
Georgette led the rock star over and plopped her stack of dragon books on the counter. Her smile spanned from ear to ear. “We’d like to check these out, please, Miss Eve.”
Eve blushed and grinned at the same time, happy that she’d been addressed again as ‘Miss Eve.’ She was disappointed, however, that she had to send the child away. “Sorry, Miss Georgette, but the check out counter is right across the room there. Do you see it next to the Now Read poster?” The girl nodded energetically. “They’ll help you get your books out so you can start reading them.”
“Thank you!” Georgette piped.
“Yes, thanks for helping her find her books, otherwise we would have been here all day,” said the rock star, who winked and then followed his niece towards the check out counter.
Carla gaped. Eve felt no change in her thoughts until her friend spoke.
“What are the chances that I have worked here for five years and his niece has never approached me, but on your third day you not only get to help her find all kinds of books but he actually speaks to you? I seriously have been,” she coughed, “admiring him from afar for a while.”
Though she had little attraction to the man, Eve glowed a little on the inside. It wasn’t often that someone found reason to be jealous of her, especially not based on a chance encounter, and it felt good to be the subject of adoration for once.
“Soar”
May
'08
If it is at all possible still, I may have fallen in love. Eve sighed slowly but loudly. Her apartment was empty, leaving her and her thoughts alone, and she relished the moment. It was a quiet Friday afternoon, as most Friday afternoons are for her. Her bare feet stuck out from beneath her on the living room couch; all the windows were open allowing a light breeze to tickle her toes. Outside she could hear the laughing of her neighbors, dogs barking playfully, and transportation of vehicles. People were just arriving home from work, as she had only an hour ago; everyone was getting ready for the weekend, whether it was to be a busy one or a lazy, slow-paced, relaxing one.
She found the small things endearing: The way the sunlight cascaded through the window, brightening certain patterns on her Oriental carpet and leaving other places in shadows. A dragon popped out one moment but Eve knew that less than an hour from that moment a flower would be more prominent. The sun shines where it feels its touch will be most appreciated. The pen she was holding was comfortable in her palm, and her diary lay haphazardly across her folded knees. She closed her eyes and breathed in once again the stale, lonely apartment air and smiled.
A year ago at this exact moment, she was lost. Her heart rested in a nook inside her chest always in a place which she was painfully aware of. It lowered sometimes bringing her tonsils with it, sometimes enough to make her cry. She may have been sitting on the same sofa, or her mother’s, a friend’s - it didn’t matter. The day-to-day was the same; she was alone in the world with nothing to look forward to.
As a fresh graduate, Eve had many prospects for herself. Almost five years ago she thought she’d be working in research in no time, waking up daily with new projects and ideas to look forward to studying. Yes, she worked part-time at a library with several opportunities to help children with their homework, but it wasn’t such a small community as she’d hoped. She’d wanted to form relationships, to be “Ms Eve,” the librarian whom certain kids went to for help, rather than “Mrs. Librarian,” the nondescript person behind the desk so married to her job that she was almost mistaken for it. If she couldn’t spend her life researching, she’d rather spend her life helping people learn to research, especially young people. It was an important skill for everyday life, and she felt it was up to her to help the general population realize that.
She wasn’t up to being an activist, though. Quiet Mrs. Librarian is what she became, hidden all those years behind self-consciousness and regret, trying to convince herself that the only way to be truly happy was to climb inside herself and smile.
Well, this was love. Love changes all things when it appears. Suddenly Eve found herself standing in the middle of her living room with butterflies in her stomach just at the thought of her beloved. It was a sensation she’d never thought she would feel again; her failed relationships of the past may have scarred her too much. A year ago she thought no one would ever find her, yet here she was rejoicing at the prospect of a new life. Instead of finding itself lodged somewhere in the pit of her stomach, her heart instead soared to new heights.
Fridays for Eve were half-days. She worked from 9 to 3, which gave herself an extra hour or two to run errands before the weekend rush came home. It was a pleasant time usually spent lazying around the house, grocery shopping, or reading. On this particular day, however, she took to browsing websites and found herself upon this particular “matchmaking” website. Portland, Oregon. So far away, and yet it seemed so perfect for her. An inner-city library located just a few blocks from a family neighborhood. On first sight of the small brick building built up to look just like those old schoolhouses Eve always remembered seeing pictures of in her childhood days, she fell in love.
Eve picked up her pen. Its name is Beaumont Library, and it’s on the other side of the country. I really hope to get to know it better soon…
“Family”
May
'08
Charlotte meandered to the back of the house. She knew she was going to the back room where she kept her family photo albums, but she never directly went towards that end of the house. She stopped to dust off the edges of the kitchen countertops, then rearranged the top of her dining room table. She looked at the book club edition hardcovers which lined her bookshelves thinking that she’d never read half of them, much less get back to the ones that she’d already read. It might be a good idea to try to sell them, she thought. She shook her head and smiled. George always liked the look of the matching leather bound books; she would find more of those to decorate her living room.
In the hallway, she straightened the paintings and admired her children from long ago. They smiled so brightly at her; Donald, her oldest, had always had bright white, straight teeth. In his fourth grade school picture, he wore a brown spring jacket with a red shirt. It was a lucky shirt to him and he wanted to wear it every day; Charlotte wondered if he remembered it at all. She probably had it in the basement with the rest of her children’s relics. Now he was a successful lawyer with a sweet wife and three beautiful children.
Eric came just a year after Donald; it was a quick and painless pregnancy. He was the explorer of the family, always getting into what was forbidden to him, always curiously taking apart toys and trying to reassemble them. She wondered why he went into activism. She was proud of her son who was always seeking to save the world, but he would have been a natural astronaut. He also had a successful family and brought the most adorable grandson into her life; he was just like his father. In the photograph in front of her now, Eric was stationed on top of a rock, completely radiant having conquered his own small island.
Gina never smiled in pictures and this one framed in gold of her holding hands with her father was no exception. Charlotte always had to smile at Gina’s pictures, because while she always looked so sullen and moody in them, she was such a bright, enthusiastic child. Gina was in Japan with her husband teaching English to younger children. Though Charlotte could never find herself more proud of one child over any of her others, the difference that Gina and Eric were making in the world made her indefinitely admirable. They truly had their father’s traits - benevolent, kind, and forgiving. Charlotte missed her terribly.
The last photograph in the hallway before Charlotte reached the furthest room showed a small girl sitting on Santa’s lap beaming. This one, her youngest, was the closest to home still. She had the fondest relationship with her father; when he died, Charlotte believed Eve stayed close to home because she was so distraught. Now, years later, she still fought to stay close despite rising prices in the area. Charlotte loved her youngest no more or less than her other children, but Eve worried her. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in ages and shied away from any motherly talk in that direction. Charlotte just wanted what was best for her children and Eve didn’t seem particularly happy to her. Perhaps she was wrong.
She sat down on the bed in the bedroom and sighed. It was meant to be a guest bedroom, but she rarely had guests; her children visited once or twice a year - with the exception of Eve, of course, who visited more often, but lived too close to stay in the guest room - and as her family got older they no longer wanted to make the trip to visit. Charlotte hadn’t seen her sister since Eve graduated high school and her husband’s family contacted her less and less every year since his death. On days like this one she found herself coming to the guest bedroom to straighten up, look through the old photographs, or just exist.
The closet held past dreams and former anxieties. With the big blue vinyl book on her lap, Charlotte revisited the past. This one was specifically special to her. She seldomly brought it out, especially not when her sons were visiting with their children and wanted to revisit their parents’ past. It was too much for her to fall into emotional outbreaks in front of her family. Now, however, she had the secrecy of locked doors and loneliness.
This book brought her through her life with her husband. The children weren’t in it except at their births; they soon after earned their own books. She saw him from the photos his mother gave her after their wedding through their four children, a dramatic mid-life crisis, and the last days of his life. She held her breath in the final pages and let the tears flow quietly but surely.
“Future of the Planet”
Apr
'08
“I heard that the bananas we eat today won’t be the same bananas we eat twenty years from now.”
“Is that right?” Eve replied, uninterested, clearly beginning to regret making this decision. She sat across from the dull-eyed, too-thin man whom her mother introduced to her. He was excited to be on this date, this outing as Eve preferred to call it, not wanting it to sound too official. He’d probably expect another one.
“Yes, and the bananas that were eaten in the fifties were not the same bananas we eat now.” He was proud of his knowledge, but Eve had already read an article that explained the mushy, sweeter consistency of the previous bananas and the virus that wiped them out. It was interesting at the time, but it wasn’t quite as enthralling coming from this over-ambitious person.
“Hum,” she replied quietly, too polite to disregard him entirely. He looked at her expectantly and she shook herself back to reality. It seemed like at any moment she was ready to drift into a dream world. “Yeah, I think I heard something about that - something to do with acidity?” She didn’t want to continue the conversation, but she feared if she changed the subject it would fall on her, and she wasn’t in the mood to answer questions about her childhood dreams.
He stared at her intently, obviously disappointed. “Oh, you’ve read about this.” It was a statement of disappointment; he was almost offended. Eve didn’t know what to say.
“Why didn’t you stop me? I would have said something more interesting to you.” He glared as he emphasized the word, forcing it out to her as if she had to take it against her will. She was shocked at this sudden change of mood; mere minutes ago, he was prattering on about a dark future of the planet, not seeming to care that she wasn’t interested. Suddenly, they were taking about bananas, and he was concerned that he was boring her. At least the banana thing was true, she thought to herself.
She’d been quiet for too long. His body shifted; he sat up straight and squared his shoulders.
“No, no, it is interesting to me; I just thought you would continue talking about your theories of the end of the world, so I was taken by surprise. I’d like to hear more about those,” she lied. Anything to keep him from being offended like this, from going to her mother and telling her that Eve didn’t even try to give him a chance. She had tried, really, but he didn’t give himself much of a chance.
He snorted loudly and faces swiped to the direction of their table. A smile crept across his face and Eve could see his eyes brighten. I’ve done it now, she thought to herself.
“Where was I then!” he exclaimed, ready to take on the day - or the world, as it were. “Besides all the good stuff I mentioned,” propriety, it seemed, went straight out the door when he spoke of the future of our planet, “bad stuff will happen too. Electric cars that don’t guzzle down insane amounts of gas, the human race’s adherence to strict policies that are based in helping the environment, the emergence of new species that help further the progress of emotional research - that’s all very interesting and good, but let me clue you in on the stuff most people don’t want to talk about.”
He waved his arms frantically and any on-looker may have thought the two were fighting. Eve shut down her mind not to allow his words to flow freely through her, but to allow her subconscious to kick in and bring her somewhere else. She was excellent at putting on a facade of intense interest while daydreaming of a better position for herself.
He said something about nuclear war, ice caps, and financial collapse, but she wasn’t with him anymore. She was in a parking lot wearing a long blue dress, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping silently from her chin. She faced the building in front of her, head up, too proud to admit to the emotion she was having even though her appearance clearly betrayed her. A man stumbled after her, distraught at her sadness.
“Wait, please, Eve,” he was saying, but she wasn’t listening. She continued to walk away from him, away from everything, and into the void. In front of her, the building was now on fire; she hadn’t realized it was already burning before. Her eyes were unseeing until she could feel the heat. The sky was lit up brightly, though it was night time, and in the distance she could hear the tat-tat-tat of machine guns.
The man, now next to her, pleaded with her; he gently wiped away her tears and forced her face to see his, though her eyes were still glazed either by the tears or her inability to face the truth. He held her close, stroked her hair, and whispered soothing words. She gave in and sobbed completely, her body shaking against his hard chest as he rocked her in comfort.
“We shouldn’t linger here,” he said softly, but didn’t release her, didn’t make any motion to move. She nodded and lifted her head, her face now without the waterfalls of sadness. They walked away from the burning building and towards a now-clear area where in their childhood a large forest occupied the space. It was sad to her that not even the tree trunks remained; she felt alone, lost, and afraid, though she knew the man holding her hand would protect her at any cost.
As they walked away from the end of the world, Eve smiled at the dinner table. Her “date” was still rattling on about the future, while she had imagined a scene that greatly contrasted with everything he said. It was impossible to think she would ever have the strength to survive a nuclear war, much less stay sane with constant gun shots and explosions sounding nearby, but no one ever said she couldn’t have an imagination.
Afterwords Cafe
Apr
'08
Some of you may recall the strange affair I had with Nanowrimo last November. I composed a 50,000 word novel and praised myself highly for my ability to write so much in such a short amount of time, recognizing that, obviously, all of it was brilliant. I started giving into grand ideas of several novels, short stories, ideas that actually turned out to be quite ridiculous but at the time drowned in glory and magnificence in my mind.
These past few days I’ve been reading a lot; I finished two books just today, and though one far outweighed the other in quality, I recognized my ability to write a semi-accurate 250-page historical fiction much overwhelmed my ability to write an extremely well-researched 500-page historical novel. I got to thinking about how wonderful it would be if I could write a series of short, easy-to-grasp historical fictions based on the Roman emporer Trajan and his times. There is plenty of fictional material about Julius Caesar and his Rome, Augustus and his changes, and even Claudius and Caligula have their fair share of immortality in writing. Trajan, however, seems to be overlooked despite the fact that he was considered a good and enduring emperor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d never read the name Trajan until just now, though you’ve probably seen mention of Trajan’s Column.
And in my thoughts of wondering whether I’d be writing a historical novel or romance, thinking that the romances have those awkward sex scenes but would allow me to focus more on character-detail rather than flooding the reader with historical facts, I thought about the other book I’ve left unfinished.
Afterwords Cafe was my masterpiece not even a full year ago, and now it sits patiently behind the big green chair I always occupy, half edited and waiting for a final copy. For just a few days in January I was intent on getting through it so I could retype it and set it aside again for another revision, but my life got in the way. It’s gotten in the way of almost every activity I used to enjoy, except reading. I don’t write on here as much anymore; I have some neglected websites (my TCG for example, hasn’t been updated in over a month, which I feel absolutely horrible about now that I’m one of those TCG owners who inexplicably abandon their games in favor of life until they suddenly remember about them again); my novel is half-edited, I don’t paint anymore, and I don’t write anymore. For a time, and continuing, all of my efforts and energy has been focused on eating healthily, keeping up with an exercise routine, reading, and spending time with friends and loved ones. I’m rebuilding relationships that have been neglected, but in doing so, I’ve neglected my friendships online and the responsibilities I’ve implemented on myself (websites, message boards, The Qbee, etc).
I can’t say I’m regretful. Except for the possibility of letting someone down, I’m enjoying my new lifestyle. It’s been four or five years since I could last say, “I spend less than two hours online per day.” The Internet all but sucked away my soul for the past couple of years; we were inseparable. I’ve fallen back in love with the written word, though, and I want to edit my novel. I want to compose another one. Unfortunately, if all my mental capacities are being filled by writing and books, I find less and less reason to hang around on here. I like to be away from this chair, no matter how awesomely comfortable it is. It’s rewarding to sit here for more than a few minutes, but not enough to want to stay too much longer than that. I have immeasurable amounts of energy, and I love it. (This comes, I believe, from exercising and eating right for my body. I recommend it to anyone.)
This isn’t a note of good-bye; it was actually sparked from the Sunday Scribblings prompt. I usually write about Eve, a character whom I’m developing for the 2008 Nanowrimo season, but this week all I could think about is my own desire to compose new, beautiful things and get all these lingering ideas out of my head. I am excited again about editing this book and putting Afterwords Cafe on my self-publishing website for purchase. No one has shown real interest in purchasing it, but I don’t care. I’d like to hold my own book in print and I like the personal satisfaction of knowing I’m published, even if it isn’t by HarperCollins or Penguin or another well-known publisher.
I’m also not going on hiatus. I will continue with my Sunday Scribblings, my Booking Through Thursdays (when I like the question), my book reviews, and my random other entries with details of my life. On the face of this website, nothing will change; I am merely explaining my distance. This is why I haven’t answered emails right away, why my responses are short and unimaginative, why I haven’t been commenting on friends’ blogs (though I have been reading them). I’m enjoying my life right now, which is in stark contrast to the confused post I wrote recently. Perhaps it’s the onset of Spring with its warmer weather and blooming flowers. Perhaps it’s that in the last few days rain has come down in sheets, for so long and with such strength that the apartment swimming pool now threatens to flow over with sparkling blue water. I look forward to swimming. Maybe it’s something much more inherent, like a primordial yearning to allow creativity to flow freely within me, to wake up with ideas and enact them throughout the day. Whatever it is, I like it, and I’m going to hold on to it as long as I can. I foresee this as an active season.
To start, I’m going to log off and continue editing my book. I’m sure I’ll inform my readers as to when it’ll be available for purchase, because although I fear no one is remotely interested, I still hang here on the thread of hope.
