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Nothing to See Here(56)

Author:Kevin Wilson

“I promise,” I told her, hoping that I was right.

“C’mon,” Carl said. “Let’s move.”

We walked into the library, air conditioner humming, not much activity on a weekday morning. The librarian, an old man with thick glasses and a really lovely smile that showed crooked teeth, waved to us. Bessie frowned, suspicious, but Roland said, “Hi!” A few seconds later, we passed an old lady with a stack of books in her arms. “Hi!” Roland said, and she nodded. There was a toddler in the kids’ area with her mother, and Roland said, “Hi!” and the toddler looked confused, but the mother replied with her own greeting.

Carl said, “Roland, you don’t have to say hi to everyone, okay?”

“Don’t make it weird, Carl,” I said. “It’s fine, Roland. Say hi to anyone you want.”

“I will,” Roland said, looking over his shoulder at Carl and making a face.

We walked over to a computer and did a quick search. Carl went with Roland to one section of the library, and Bessie and I walked over to another stack. “I feel funny,” Bessie said. “This stuff feels funny on my skin. I don’t like it.”

“I kind of like it,” I said, looking at my arms.

“Let’s just go,” she said, but I directed her to the aisle of books and we searched the call numbers until we found it: Dolly: My Life and Other Unfinished Business. Dolly looked like a good witch, like someone who just absolutely fucked up evil queens with her kindness.

“This looks good,” Bessie said, flipping through the pages, calming herself. But as soon as she looked up at me, the anxiety returned. “Can we please go now?” she asked.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Let’s find Carl and your brother.”

As soon as I said it, Carl was there with his hand firmly attached to Roland’s shoulder. Roland was holding two books on Sergeant York. “I think we’re good,” Carl said.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go check them out.”

“Wait,” Carl said. “Do you have a library card?”

“What?” I asked. “No. I don’t have one. I don’t even live here.”

“Well, I don’t have one,” Carl said. “I don’t have a library card.”

“Carl, why don’t you have a library card?” I asked him.

“Because,” he said, staying calm, “I do not like to borrow things. I like to have them. I like to keep them. So I don’t use the library. I just buy what I want.”

“Well, go get a card. Go sign up for one.”

“You need a proof of address,” he said, “like a piece of mail.”

“Do you have that?” I asked.

“Do I have a piece of mail with my address on it? On my person?” he replied. “Are you serious?”

“Well, why didn’t you think about this before we drove here?” I asked.

“Stop fighting,” Roland said. “Just ask the librarian if we can borrow them.”

“We need a card,” I said, and now it felt like we were stuck behind enemy lines with sensitive documents. It felt like a movie. Why was I doing this? Why didn’t we just put the books away and come back another time? Why didn’t we act like normal people instead of huddling up in the stacks, our bodies shiny with fire gel?

“I knew we shouldn’t have come,” Bessie said. It was weird to watch her, a kid who bit strangers, who seemed so angry, turn into this person, someone who was scared of the world. I wanted her to catch on fire, to jump out a window. That, I thought, I could handle. I could mitigate damage. I could not make people feel better.

“Do you want the book?” I asked Bessie.

“Yeah,” she said, looking at the Dolly Parton book. “I mean, she seems like a cool lady.”

I grabbed a book off the shelf, something about a monastery in Germany. “Give me that Dolly Parton book.”

Carl said, “Lillian, we’ll just come back. Madison definitely has a library card. She’s on the board for the library.”

“Here,” I said, handing Carl the Dolly Parton book. “Put this in your pants.”

“No way,” he said, but I punched his arm as hard as I could. “Just do it,” I told him.

Carl put the book down the front of his pants, and I hissed, “The back of your pants, man. Come on.” Then I turned to Roland. “Pick one of these two books,” I said, “and put the other one back,” and Roland, god bless him, simply turned and threw one of the books into the aisle, so hard and so beautifully, the book skittering across the floor and then bumping against the wall.

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